Company: BalletMet

Age: 21

Hometown: Vega Alta, Puerto Rico

Training: La Escuela Especializada en Ballet Julián E. Blanco, Ballet Concierto de Puerto Rico, San Francisco Ballet School

Against the odds: After attending San Francisco Ballet School’s summer program in 2017, Dávila hoped to enroll full-time—and then Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico. “We had three months without power and a month without water,” she recalls, and her training was put on hold. A friend encouraged her to write a letter to the school about her situation, and they responded with a full scholarship. Dávila started in January 2018, and her teacher back home helped raise money to pay for a shared room in a hostel because the dorms were full midyear. “I told myself, ‘I’m gonna make this happen, no matter what.’ So many people sacrificed so much for me to get here.”

Finding home: Throughout her training and her first job at Tulsa Ballet II, Dávila struggled with her body image and hyperextension. “And being a Latina in the dance community is hard,” she says. “You’re around people who don’t look like you.” Joining BalletMet (she danced with the second company for a year before joining the main company) felt like coming home, she says, because artistic director Edwaard Liang “appreciates his dancers the way we are, and everybody is unique. Now I’m thankful for my body, instead of trying to change it.”

Memorable debut: Dávila was excited about her first lead role, as grown-up Clara in BalletMet’s 2022 Nutcracker, but then her partner got sick and missed tech week—they finished rehearsing backstage before their first performance. “During the coda we were like, ‘We made it!’ Then on the last lift, I slipped and fell. Every single show after that we were like, ‘It’s not over till we bow!’ ”

Dream roles: Manon, Kitri, and Juliet top her wish list, but when BalletMet does Romeo & Juliet next spring, she says, “I don’t care what role I’m doing, I’m going to enjoy it.”

What her artistic director is saying: “Iris creates incredible shapes and movement with her body, and she is able to trust her partners and fall into the choreography,” says Liang. “I believe her career will be bright.”

Savoring her time off: Dávila loves eating out, cooking, and baking, but nothing beats her grandmother’s fried chicken. “Whenever I go back to Puerto Rico, she calls me and asks, ‘When are you coming, so I can have the fried chicken ready?’ ”

The post Meet BalletMet’s Iris R. Dávila appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Chicago’s leading repertory company struggled, as all dance companies did, during the pandemic. But years of turnover and financial challenges had been creating uncertainty well before COVID-19 lockdowns began.

In March, Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell rounded the bend on two years in the artistic director’s chair. Picked to usher Hubbard Street through the turmoil and into a new era, Fisher-Harrell has proved a savvy and steadying leader, leaving her mark on the company while honoring its past. 

Fisher-Harrell is just the fourth director in Hubbard Street’s 46-year history—the first woman and first person of color to serve that role. Founder Lou Conte was artistic director for 23 years, followed by Jim Vincent and Glenn Edgerton.­ The company was not new to Fisher-Harrell; she had danced with Hubbard Street prior to a storied performance career with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.

When Fisher-Harrell auditioned for Hubbard Street in 1989, “I couldn’t take my eyes off of her,” says Conte, who was director at the time. “Nobody was as charismatic as her.”

Fisher-Harrell spent three seasons with the company. Though brief, her time there left an impression. The 19-year-old woman who arrived in Chicago in 1989 is often in her consciousness today.

“I was [at Hubbard Street] during the Tharp era,” she says, referencing a transformative multiyear commissioning project adopting new and existing works by Twyla Tharp. “When I envision Hubbard Street into the future, that’s the image that grounds me.” 

Fisher-Harrell leaned on Conte and former Ailey artistic director Judith Jamison as mentors as she navigated company leadership for the first time. “They were so powerful to me as artistic directors,” she says. “I’m asking for guidance or perspectives that I may or may not take. Either way, those relationships anchor me.”

A key priority from the get-go has been reconnecting with audiences. Before Fisher-Harrell’s directorship, a handful of highly entertaining programs were keeping the bills paid, like The Art of Falling (2014), a collaboration with The Second City, and Decadance/Chicago (2018), an evening-length assortment of Ohad Naharin works. But a critical mass of working-class Chicagoans failed to keep up with the company’s evolution toward a predominantly European aesthetic, culled from Vincent’s and Edgerton’s histories with Nederlands Dans Theater. Audience numbers had dropped off well before the pandemic, leaving some in the administration to question if they could continue to support a home season at the 1,500-seat Harris Theater for Music and Dance.

A cascade of additional challenges included several key staff turnovers. Executive director Jason Palmquist had left in 2017, replaced by ex-politico David McDermott. And when McDermott got his hands on the ledger, it was apparent that cuts were needed.

The company roster shrank, as did dancers’ contract lengths. In March 2020, the company’s affiliated Lou Conte Dance Studio closed. Perhaps the most symbolic loss was the sale of the company’s building at 1147 W. Jackson Blvd., its home since 1998.  

“It needed $3 million in roof fixes alone,” says McDermott.­ “From an investment perspective, it didn’t make sense.”

Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell assumed leadership in 2021 at the height of the pandemic with her company in a beleaguered state. McDermott was on the selection committee. “She just got it,” he says. “She got Hubbard Street and she got Chicago—the richness and diversity of Chicagoland. It was clear to me that she was going to connect with Chicago and that the art she wanted to present was going to connect with Chicagoans.”

Fisher-Harrell was aware of the challenges. “This is the thing I was looking for, but I knew the state of affairs,” she says. “It felt like a reset, and I’m not afraid to create something out of nothing.”

As one of the few long-running repertory companies not named for its founder, Hubbard Street is in many ways unburdened by an obligation to honor Conte’s legacy. Still, Fisher-Harrell is committed to tapping into Hubbard Street’s roots. Conte, now age 81, is happy to be a mentor, but all parties are clear: Hubbard Street is Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell’s company.

“I care a lot about what happens, but I don’t have any control of it,” he says. “I told her to follow her own lead and do what she thinks is right. She has good instincts.” 

A top priority for Fisher-Harrell was to turn her gaze westward and engage more American choreographers, particularly^­ choreographers of color. “I’m building a repertoire,” she says. “There are things in the past that I want to ­revisit…like taking out your old albums. There are going to be those reaches back. But as I reach back, I still want to build.­”

In two seasons, that catalog has included first-time commissions­ from in-vogue choreographers such as Amy Hall Garner, Hope Boykin, and Rennie Harris. Fisher-Harrell has also reengaged the company’s stake in Chicago, programming works by city natives Lar Lubovitch, Randy Duncan, Rena Butler, and Conte, who restaged his signature duet, Georgia, in May. And in rebuilding the dancer roster, now back to 14, Fisher-Harrell favored versatility—a necessity given the wide-ranging rep.

“I don’t want to turn my back on the European road,” she says. “All of the roads that were open to Hubbard Street, I feel like, are fair game.”

One of those roads was a relationship with Canadian American choreographer Aszure Barton, who set BUSK on the company in fall 2021. Barton will be Hubbard Street’s next choreographer in residence, beginning a three-year commitment this fall. Her residency looks like The Tharp Project: She will stage previous works on the company as well as make new ones. 

When Barton last worked with Hubbard Street, the company was rehearsing in a temporary, out-of-the-way warehouse space near the expressway, adjacent to a loading dock. It now occupies a sparkly, retrofitted storefront (previously an Adidas store) at the Water Tower Place mall on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. 

The new space is a vast improvement, but still a temporary solution. As the company rebuilds, a permanent home is part of Hubbard Street’s long-term planning, as is reopening a school. Fisher-Harrell also hopes to add more dancers; perhaps reinstate a second company, apprentices, and a trainee program, to create more pathways to professional performance opportunities for promising young dancers; and to protect company dancers from burnout. 

All of that, she acknowledges, will take time.

“That’s dreaming big,” Fisher-Harrell says, “and I realize that we have to be fiscally responsible. I want us to approach [those dreams] the right way, so they last.”

Hubbard Street’s Next Generation

Alexandria Best

Raleigh, NC

BFA in dance, Pace University

Joined Hubbard Street in 2021

“Everyone is really here for the vision of Linda. The way that she has been involving so many different aspects from the Chicago community—I’m like, ‘Wow, this place is so fruitful.’ ”

Aaron Choate

Lexington, KY

BFA in dance, The Juilliard School

Joined Hubbard Street in 2022

“Hubbard Street is not one thing at all. I think that’s what is unique. I’ve never seen or felt a company that is so comfortable going so many different directions at the same time.”

Shota Miyoshi

Kanagawa, Japan

BFA in dance, SUNY Purchase

Joined Hubbard Street in 2022

“[Linda-Denise] always says, ‘The party’s on the marley.’ She always gives me a new mindset.”

The post Hubbard Street Dance Chicago Is Returning to Stability—And Its Roots appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Copeland plays Rose, a dance teacher and waitress supporting her mother, Gloria (former Dance Theatre of Harlem and Complexions Contemporary Ballet member Christina Johnson), who lives with dementia. The two struggle to keep their home in a rapidly gentrifying Oakland, California. Rose befriends Sterling (Alonzo King LINES Ballet’s Babatunji Johnson), a local man who renews her hope for the future of her community and its culture. Throughout the film, Rose and Sterling largely interact through contemporary dance, with Sterling also communicating through turf dance, a street style that originated in Oakland.

Flower is mostly nonverbal, creating an inclusive story ballet in film form. It took root years ago, when executive producer Nelson George—who directed the documentary about Copeland, A Ballerina’s Tale—encouraged Copeland to further explore acting after seeing her perform La Bayadère in California. Copeland and Fayyaz, Flower’s producer, continued to develop the idea. “We took the ball and ran with creating a new form of storytelling for film,” Copeland tells Pointe. “That has been like our baby that we’ve birthed during the pandemic, but with a lot of intention.” The only dialogue comes from unhoused individuals, meant to give voice to the voiceless.

“I feel that the work I’m doing off the stage is equally as important as being a presence on the stage,” says Copeland. “This is the direction that dance and ballet should be moving in—telling these types of stories that will invite different communities and make them feel seen and heard.”

Most of Flower’s creative team have ties to Oakland. Copeland was inspired by the city, her husband’s hometown, for its history of activism and the way its youth culture uses art as a tool for social justice. “It was important for the creatives to have a real say in cooperation with the project,” she says.

The film features choreography by Alonzo King and creative pair Rich + Tone Talauega, and music composed by Raphael Saadiq. Copeland began working with King on the movement approximately a month and a half before filming started. “We just went into the studio and started creating,” she says. “He would ask me, ‘What do you think your character would be saying in this moment?’ Then, we would create based off of that, and we gave Rich + Tone the space and freedom to do what they do, like with conversations about who Babatunji Johnson’s character was.” Copeland wanted the choreography to feel fully relatable and human. “I have such a sensitivity to different genres of dance coming together,” she says. “It can work so beautifully and organically, and feel like a conversation of two different languages.”

At times, Rose escapes into a dreamlike state. In one scene, inspired by the 1983 hit Flashdance, she warms up and freestyles before teaching a ballet class. She then appears to be transported to the stage of Segerstrom Center for the Arts, highlighting the comfort and freedom she finds in movement. The addition of Segerstrom was originally unplanned. “It was just supposed to be in the studio, in my element, and then I loved the idea of this transformation,” Copeland says.

The walls of Rose’s studio are decorated with illustrations of trailblazing dancers by Salena Barnes from Copeland’s book, Black Ballerinas: My Journey to Our Legacy. “We wanted it to feel authentic to this character and her connection to the Black community and Black dance community,” says Copeland.

Copeland reflects on Flower as her first performance since the pandemic and motherhood. “Even with the surgeries and injuries I’ve had, I’ve never taken that much time off from dance, so my body was in a very different state,” she says. During the biggest dance scene—a pas de deux between Rose and Sterling—she was pregnant. “To have that experience within this new experience of being a producer and in this type of film, it felt good. Now, stepping back and watching it, I feel like there are so many layers to my intentions, but also what I was feeling in those moments.”

During a talkback with CNN’s Sara Sidner following the Lincoln Center screening, Copeland and Fayyaz revealed plans to make Flower a series of shorts, with each focusing on an issue specific to a different city. “We were able to provide jobs to people in the area, especially during a time when people weren’t getting as much work and productions were closed down,” Fayyaz said of the Oakland installment. “We want to continue doing that in other communities across the country.”

The post Misty Copeland’s New Film, <i>Flower</i>, Explores Inequity and Celebrates Community appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I’m a fourth-generation Korean American. I grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in a Hispanic neighborhood, attending bilingual Spanish and English schools by day while experiencing a very Asian American experience at home. My best friends were American Indian, Hispanic, and Asian American. Early on, I learned to move between different cultural worlds by embracing one concerted language: dance. Movement became my primary, galvanizing mode of communication. Through dance I expressed how I perceive the world.

As a young dancer I studied ballet, modern dance, jazz, and even martial arts. As I grew older, I developed a movement style that embraces all these forms. When I began choreographing, I founded a company of diverse dancers, Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company. My dancers also speak my language, and add their unique cultural experiences to the interpretation of my choreographies.

I still feel invigorated in the studio. This is my sacred space where I can express my memories, emotions, and life experiences. I develop dances that express unique stories that celebrate the tribulations and triumphs of our shared human experience.
My feeling about and dedication to dance have deepened over the decades. At moments of fatigue, dancing rejuvenates my body and my mind.

Now, I often ruminate on the fact that dance is passed down from generation to generation—teacher to student. You can’t learn to be a professional dancer through a YouTube video or TikTok. I thoroughly enjoy choreographing, teaching, and coaching a new generation of dancers and celebrate how the journey of passing on physical knowledge from one dancer to another continues. Although I do not perform anymore, I am deeply thankful to continue to be in the studio alongside professionals in their prime. I now understand the field from multiple vantage points.

When I’m asked to give advice to a young dancer, I tell them to nurture what is unique about their life and to explore how this informs their dancing. An honest understanding of the self will allow you to dance for a lifetime.

The post How Choreographer and Artistic Director Dana Tai Soon Burgess Uses Dance to Move Between Cultural Worlds appeared first on Dance Magazine.

An Eye-Opening Summer Intensive:

“Dance Theatre of Harlem was my first non-commercial summer intensive. I got to stay in New York for about six weeks, and it was so cool to see a predominantly Black company extend their resources and their talent to young people who were trying to dance. To just be around that culture was exciting.”

Bringing More Representation OnScreen:

“So many people say this, but growing up, I didn’t see myself. And you realize the detrimental effects it has on you and your identity and how you present to the world. Most people who looked at me just identified me as Black, so being able to unapologetically be Black and Latina, it’s given me confidence that I didn’t know that I needed. And hopefully it shows other Afro-Latinos that they belong and that they’re represented—and represented in a positive way.”

Her Go-To Classes:

“I love taking Horton technique. I was very blessed to learn from Don Martin, who performed with Lester Horton Dance Theater and Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and I just fell in love with it.”

Getting the Part:

“I sent in my tape, and a couple of days later my agent called me and said, ‘They’d like to do a chemistry read with you and Jabari [Banks].’ A few days after the chemistry read, my agent called me and was like, ‘You’re going to be Jackie.’ I was extremely anxious the day he called me, too. I had taken myself on a sushi date and was reading to try to take my mind off of it when I saw his contact pop up on my phone.”

How Dance Informs Her Acting:

“I think being a dancer puts me more into my body; it helps me to think on my feet and go with what I feel.”

The post How Dancer and “Bel-Air” Actress Jazlyn Martin is Carving Out Her Own Creative Path appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Cincinnati Ballet

Age: 23

Hometown: Havana, Cuba

Training: Cuban National Ballet School with Ramona de Saá, Ana Julia Bermúdez, and Yaima Fuentes

Accolades: Gold and silver medals, Havana International Ballet competition; winner, Youth America Grand Prix Chicago; Top 12, YAGP New York Finals

Budding bunhead: Ochoa began ballet lessons at age 5 and quickly developed a passion for the art. She went on to study at Cuba’s national school for eight years before joining the National Ballet of Cuba in 2017, where she danced for three years, launching her professional career at 17.

Broader horizons: As a member of Cuba’s corps de ballet, Ochoa shined in staples of the classical canon like Giselle, Swan Lake, and Cinderella, swiftly rising to the rank of first soloist. But, says Ochoa, “I’d always dreamt of dancing in the U.S.,” so she connected with Cervilio Miguel Amador, a former dancer with the National Ballet of Cuba who is now a rehearsal director at Cincinnati Ballet. She joined the company in February 2022 as a corps member.

Branching out: Cincinnati Ballet’s wide-ranging repertoire offers a good challenge, as Cuba was largely focused on the classics. “Here, you do everything, and I am excited every time a choreographer comes to start working on a different type of ballet,” she says.

What Cincinnati Ballet’s artistic director is saying: Jodie Gates promoted Ochoa to soloist in January after her “exquisite” performance as the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker. “The backbone of her work is a very strong technical base, but it’s the richness of her artistry that makes her shine,” says Gates. “She has this intuitive way of approaching roles and really understands what it means to command the stage.”

The reel deal: If you haven’t watched Ochoa perform live, you’ve likely seen her trending on social media. Reels of her fouettés (sometimes reaching eight pirouettes) have been shared on numerous­ ballet fan pages. “I love turns!” says Ochoa, adding that it was common to engage in friendly competition with her colleagues during breaks in Cuba.

Downtime: On her days off, Ochoa likes going for walks with her boyfriend, Cincinnati Ballet principal Rafael Quenedit, and their Weimaraner, Kratos. Ochoa has befriended many of her colleagues, including first soloist Maizyalet Velázquez, a fellow Spanish-speaking dancer.

High hopes: Ochoa is excited to dive into contemporary work, while also performing in her “dream ballets” like Don Quixote and George Balanchine’s Jewels during the 2023–24 season.

The post Meet Cincinnati Ballet’s Katherine Ochoa appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Paliński moved to Los Angeles from his native Poland in 2015, looking for bigger opportunities after competing on “So You Think You Can Dance Poland” and performing with the top recording artists of his home country. The following year, he landed a job that would take his career to new heights: He was chosen to be a dancer for the burlesque superstar Dita Von Teese, joining the all-male Vontourage on her Strip, Strip, Hooray! tour.

Seven years later, Paliński—whose background includes ballroom, contemporary, jazz, and hip hop—has become a principal dancer, choreographer, and rehearsal director for Von Teese. For her Glamonatrix tour, which began in 2019 and ended in February after a two-year, pandemic-imposed pause, his offstage duties ranged from auditioning dancers to managing lighting cues and spiking props. Paliński also continues to dance for other artists, including a recent tour with the reggaeton sensation Karol G.

Von Teese and Paliński are preparing for a Las Vegas residency expected to open later this year. He will serve as a principal dancer and her creative associate responsible for choreography.

Strip, Strip, Hooray! was one of my first jobs after moving to L.A. I continued dancing with Dita, and, eventually, I choreographed a number for a new show of hers. I proved myself with that. Then for the next show it was like, “Can you choreograph multiple numbers?” It was the first time I could go back to choreography professionally after doing it in Poland, because after moving here, I had to start from scratch.

Dita saw some of my passion projects and concept videos, and she asked me, “Did you edit this yourself? Is this your concept?” Based on that, she started trusting me more with the creative side of her show. Even with big artists, sometimes you don’t need huge credits. They can see a passion project you did with no budget, and if it’s done really well and it makes them feel something, they can
trust you.

What makes Dita’s tours different from other commercial tours is that there’s a lot of individuality, and solo performances from the backup dancers. Some of the solos are burlesque performers with their own acts, and some we create for dancers who were not previously burlesque performers. A solo is very different from being a backup dancer; there’s so much playing with the audience in being the only person onstage.

In creating a solo, there is a certain amount of tapping into the performer’s natural style and ability. What I typically do is create the vision, and I love to be prepared with the steps before rehearsal rather than creating them on the spot. I teach it, and for those slow moments, I give an intention. Then, I see what the performer does with it. It’s allowing them to bring life to it, identifying their superpower and letting them live in that realm. You can adjust the expression, the story, or certain steps or positions, so they can really shine.

In an audition, the first thing we look for is stage presence. You have to be able to stand and be electrifying.

With choreography I love playing with stillness; the contrast between intense, sharp moments and then just being there and not moving for a while. I learned so much in working with Dita—how you can get the audience to react exactly how you want by sectioning the movements correctly and playing with the music.

I always wanted to be a versatile dancer, and I think that helps me now with choreography for shows like Dita’s. We had one number that’s jazzy and flowed a little bit from elements like West Coast swing and jazz. There’s another with a huge cake, a Marie Antoinette–inspired performance. Dita pulled inspiration for that from Madonna’s­ “Vogue” performance at the 1990 MTV Video Music Awards.

My days on tour are longer, because I have to come to the theater early on show day and spike all of the props with the crew, and make sure of where everything’s going to land. In every theater, the sight lines are different. Sometimes we have to go narrower with the props, and sometimes you can spread them out more. We make sure they are seen from each angle. When the dancers come in, we have a crew-and-cast meeting for all of the safety measures. After that, we run some of the numbers, and then I clean it. I watch it on video and make any adjustments.

Especially for a new show, I’m learning new things, but I also have to make sure everyone else knows what they’re doing and be able to answer their questions. What’s challenging is making sure that I’m on top of my stuff as a dancer, but taking care of everyone else as a leader at the same time. I try to give as many tools to new dancers as possible, so they can be self-sufficient. For example, there are a ton of costume pieces for each number, because we take off a lot of layers. The dancers make a list for each number.

There are a lot of moving parts in a touring show, and things constantly change. Sometimes, you’ll change the order of the layers Dita takes off, how she’s taking them off, or she’ll add or take a piece away. That then affects the timing of our choreography, and we have to figure out how to fit it. That keeps it exciting.

We’re brainstorming ideas about a show that’s a hybrid of our touring show and a Vegas revue. Dita wants it to have show girls and show boys. It would allow us to create bigger performances and have more dancers. It’s my dream to create grand numbers that are dance-heavy and hire people who have been consistently auditioning and showing their best.

The post How Alek Paliński Juggles Being a Performer, Choreographer, and Rehearsal Director for Burlesque Star Dita Von Teese appeared first on Dance Magazine.

That said: We need to talk about Kolton Krouse. Specifically, we need to talk about Kolton Krouse in the Trumpet Solo.

The solo arrived in the middle of “Sing, Sing, Sing,” DANCIN’s second-act opener, set to music made famous by Benny Goodman. A virtuosic three-minute wiggle originally created for Ann Reinking, it requires a finely calibrated combination of introspection and extroversion—“like you’re in a back room dancing for yourself in the mirror,” Krouse says. In the wrong hands (and, especially, legs), it can wilt. But Krouse teased and tickled and va-va-voomed it into full flower. By the solo’s climax, the audience was eating from the palms of Krouse’s impeccably manicured hands.

“Trumpet Solo needs an artist who can play outside of the boundaries of the steps,” says DANCIN’ cast member Dylis Croman, a Fosse veteran who memorably performed the number in the 2002 recording of Fosse. “You immediately feel that Kolton has that freedom and joy, that sense of fun, like a tiger getting ready to pounce. And let me just say: Their kick layouts are outlandishly good.”

The list of artists who’ve tackled the Trumpet Solo is short—and before Krouse, it featured only cisgender women. In DANCIN’, 27-year-old Krouse, who is nonbinary, performed the routine as part of a track that included roles in both heels and flats. (Their other big solo, “Spring Chicken,” used some of the “Mein Herr” choreography immortalized by Liza Minnelli­ in Cabaret.) It was a significant step toward inclusivity that also felt natural. Fosse asked dancers to be themselves onstage; DANCIN’ simply showed Krouse as Krouse.

“The thing about Kolton is that they are truly comfortable in their skin, which is what Bob always wanted,” says DANCIN’ director Wayne Cilento, who performed in the original 1978 production. “And that actually made it really easy to figure out the tracking. Like the Trumpet Solo: The question was, who was the best person in the room to do it? Kolton was the one.”

Krouse’s secure sense of self has been evident from a young age, bolstered by well-founded confidence in their own talent. A star of the dance competition and convention circuit, they became the first four-time National Outstanding Dancer at New York City Dance Alliance, winning the Mini title in 2007, Junior in 2009, Teen in 2012, and Senior in 2014. There were bullies in their conservative Arizona hometown, but Krouse largely shrugged them off. “My feeling was, this is such a small chunk of our lives,” they say. “Sure, you can yell at me. But pretty soon, I’m going to get out of here, and you’re probably going to stay in Arizona, and, you know—bye.”

As a student Krouse felt the pull of New York City, which had “an energy that made me feel like I belonged,” they say. Looking for ways to channel that energy, they enrolled at The Juilliard School. 

They admired the abstract concert dance repertory that shaped much of Juilliard’s­ curriculum. But soon they realized that what they really wanted to do was tell stories. “I started to focus on the idea of Broadway because it brought all the pieces together—the acting, the movement, everything I loved best,” Krouse says. They also had a difficult time with the school’s culture. “I got this sense that in order to become­ an artist, they had to break you down and then build you back up, which was not it for me.”

So Krouse was ready to leap when they heard that Andy Blankenbuehler, an acquaintance through NYCDA, was choreographing a Broadway revival of CATS. Though Krouse initially asked to audition just for the experience, they ended up booking the show. They spent their sophomore year doing double duty: full-time Juilliard student by day, Broadway feline by night. 

The show—and the (ill-starred) 2019 film, which Krouse booked some months later—marked both a professional and a personal turning point for Krouse. Wearing the full-face CATS makeup every day opened the door to further play with cosmetics, nail art, and fashion; playing a creature rather than a person allowed them freedom to explore the feminine qualities that had always been part of their dancing. 

“I started to think about, Who is Kolton Krouse?” they say. “After a lot of experimenting, everything morphed into this androgynous situation—the masculine and the feminine all bled into each other, in my dancing and offstage, too. And that’s when I found Kolton.”

Krouse dropped out of Juilliard in their senior year, after they were denied a deferral to accommodate the CATS film’s production schedule. They landed a few more high-profile commercial dance jobs—including, in a bit of foreshadowing, the FX series “Fosse/Verdon.” Finding another­ ­Broadway role proved more dif­­fi­cult. “It was really hard to get into the room as me,” Krouse says. “There were a couple projects where they said, ‘No, you can’t show up in makeup and heels.’ It felt like a constant battle.” Frustrated, they switched agencies in search of better support.

When COVID-19 shut the world down, Krouse moved back to Arizona and drifted—not not intentionally—away from dance. “I just figured I’d take the time to work on other things I’d always been curious about,” they say. They explored voice training and songwriting with the musician Mario Spinetti, a longtime friend, recording covers and filming music videos for fun. Watching Nathan Chen and Yuzuru Hanyu compete at the 2021 World Figure Skating Championships re-sparked Krouse’s childhood figure-skating dream, previously snuffed out by dance commitments. They started taking classes; a teacher channeled them toward ice dancing, where, unsurprisingly, they excelled. (You can see skating’s influence in their dancing today: the way they throw themselves up into a saut de basque as if it were an axel, the way they wrap their foot in coupé to increase their turning speed.)

In the fall of 2021, as theaters began to reopen, Krouse got the call for the DANCIN’ audition. “I was like, Bob Fosse? Yes. Immediately, yes,” they say. They’d grown up watching Cabaret, and had loved learning the nuances of Fosse style on “Fosse/Verdon.” “With Fosse, the intention is always so clear,” they say. “Even in more abstract pieces, it’s almost like a silent movie—the audience understands what the people they’re watching are feeling or thinking, and sees them as humans instead of characters.”

That emphasis on the humanity of the performers feels consistent with a more flexible approach to gender. “Bob was very forward-thinking in that way,” says Corinne McFadden Herrera, DANCIN’s associate director and musical stager, who also helped with choreographic reconstruction. “Already in Cabaret, in the ’60s and ’70s, he was creating characters with an androgynous fluidity.” The DANCIN’ team didn’t seek out gender-nonconforming performers or plan to cast roles against gender “type,” but they embraced the fullness of Krouse’s identity—and skill set. 

“If Bob had had a Kolton in his life, he would’ve loved it,” Cilento says. “He would never have hidden that talent.”

Though the show made little fanfare about its casting choices, it sat at the middle of a conversation unfolding across Broadway about how the industry can better include nonbinary performers. Onstage celebrations of artists like Some Like It Hot’s J. Harrison Ghee and & Juliet’s Justin David Sullivan belie ongoing concerns about gendered awards-show categories and casting processes. 

“I think change could be coming, and I think it’s definitely getting better with certain directors and choreographers, but it’s still really tricky,” Krouse says. They’ve been unsure, for example, about how to navigate recent calls for “female-presenting” and “male-presenting” performers. Usually they end up essentially auditioning twice. 

“If it feels right, you can show them the combo in a heel and then the second time do it in a flat,” they say. “It’s hard. But if they’re not allowing space for you, you have to make space for yourself.”

Eventually, Krouse hopes to carve out space in other fields, too. They’re still studying voice, and plan to return to skating at some point. You might see them onscreen someday, acting in a horror film (“Wouldn’t that be incredibly fun?”) or a superhero movie (“I could do all the stunts”). And they hope to walk in fashion week—a dream that, for a person seemingly born to wear heels, feels eminently attainable. 

The DANCIN’ cast included some of the best movers on Broadway, yet Krouse was repeatedly singled out by critics. (The New York Times review called them “the one with the face-slapping kicks,” an epithet since featured in Krouse’s Instagram bio.) That attention, Krouse says, was a nice surprise. But they were more excited about the visibility than the praise. 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even have cared if everyone hated it, as long as I could connect with that one person who hadn’t seen themselves onstage before,” they say. “What I really want for my art is for people to come away from it saying, ‘That makes me want to be more me.’ ”

The post Kolton Krouse Blazes Their Own Trail On Broadway and Beyond appeared first on Dance Magazine.

A Hesitant Start:

“The very first time my mom asked me if I wanted to try ballet, I said no. I loved sports, and I thought ballet was really hard and the music was really boring. I cried the whole first week, but then I met a nice teacher and started to love it.”

Moving to a Different Country:

“The big challenge is language. Before I moved here in 2019, I couldn’t speak English at all. When COVID happened, I went back to Korea for almost a year and a half, and that’s when my English started getting better.”

Her Pre-Performance Routine:

“I do a lot of relevés and balances. Always before a show I’m really nervous, so that’s why I listen to something fun like K-pop music. Right now, I like the new girl group NewJeans.”

Getting Promoted to Soloist:

“The funny thing is, I had no idea. We had a meeting all together, and Kevin McKenzie said, ‘This is a promotion meeting.’ I sat down with my friends like, ‘Okay, someone is getting promoted.’ They call out Chloe Misseldine, Betsy McBride, Breanne Granlund, and Sung Woo Han, and then Kevin says, ‘SunMi.’ I was almost crying because I felt like it was a dream.”

A Career-Creating Moment:

“When I did the Moscow International Ballet Competition in 2017, the whole thing just changed my mind. I took my bow, came backstage, and my teacher asked me how I felt. I was really happy, and after that performance I knew I wanted this.”

The post ABT Soloist SunMi Park is Rocketing Through the Ranks appeared first on Dance Magazine.

What drew you to Sor Juana’s story?
Not everybody knows about Sor Juana. But so many scholars, authors, and artists continue to be inspired by her and her work. She is in our ethos.

Some people call Sor Juana the first feminist of the Americas. What she lived through, I feel, is still parallel to what women deal with today in facing dampening expectations. Sor Juana taught herself how to read at three, and during the Baroque era it wasn’t even common for women to go to school. She studied mathematics, philosophy, you name it. She was an artist at heart and composed music, wrote poetry, and crafted operas. She was radical.

I think about feminism and the world now, and how there’s so much censorship of people’s identities and voices—questioning people and their choices when all they want is to live authentically. So her story really resonates with what’s going on in the world today: Can I have permission to live as myself?

How did you approach her story choreographically?
It’s overwhelming but exciting—I mean, there’s no way to tell the fullness of her story in a 30-minute piece. I have been working with a dramaturg and scholar, Kiri Avelar, who is a dear friend of mine that worked here in the school.

I wanted this to be more than just a biography of her life. I like playing with vignettes that aren’t necessarily in a straight line or in the same time period. Some are in a surreal place, and others are more literal. I’m also hoping to bring in the company dancers’ voices and the things they’ve struggled with considering their own identities, letting them tap into that to bring this story into our time.

What does the result look and sound like?
The choreography is a fusion of contemporary dance, ballet, and modern. And with jumping around in time, the costuming and music are very intentional for each section. I’m using a variety of music: some Baroque, some more modern, and some in between. There’s also a piece in it that Sor Juana composed, and recordings of Sor Juana’s poetry throughout.

Lots of people came to see Sor Juana; two queens fell in love with her. So that fascination is what I’m trying to capture onstage. And her decision to take up the veil—the transformation into the nun, which was a decision she made to protect her ability to express herself during that time—is another story I wanted to tell.

How does Sor Juana connect to Ballet Hispánico’s larger mission?
One of the most important things for me is providing another example of what a Latinx contemporary dance voice can look like. I feel that sometimes, audiences aren’t sure what to expect, or they come in with stereotypes in their head. The best thing is when the curtain goes down, and there’s chatter. Or better yet, when there’s silence, an exhale, and then chatter: “Let’s talk about that.”

I feel like that’s what the arts do, right? And it goes beyond dance. Art opens the portal into questioning what we may have thought, or what we thought we knew when we walked into that moment. I believe thatBallet Hispánico does that every day.

The post At Ballet Hispánico, Michelle Manzanales Brings an Undertold Story to the Stage with <i>Sor Juana</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.