Paul Taylor Dance Company to Move to Midtown in Major Expansion

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The Paul Taylor Dance Company, founded in 1954 by the renowned choreographer, has long been one of the city’s most prominent troupes. But it has struggled in recent years to find space to match its ambitions for more performances, rehearsals, classes and community events.

No longer. The company on Tuesday announced a major expansion that would more than triple its footprint, moving its headquarters to a Midtown Manhattan office tower next year from its current home on the Lower East Side. The company will use the space to build more dance studios and expand its education programs.

“It’s a new era,” said John Tomlinson, the company’s executive director. “There’s more opportunity for us.”

Under a leasehold agreement with George Comfort & Sons, a real estate investment and management firm, the Taylor company will essentially own two floors of a tower on West 38th Street for 30 years. The company and George Comfort will split the costs, around $8 million to $10 million, to renovate the 31,000-square-foot space and build dance studios.

Tomlinson said the new space would allow the company to attract more artists and students, given its proximity to major transportation hubs. The company, which plans to move to the new space early next year, also operates the Taylor School, offering dance classes for adults and children.

“We found this location that is about as close to the crossroads of the world as you can possibly be,” Tomlinson said. “And we found a landlord who was, incredibly, willing to invest with us and interested in seeing us become part of that community. And so it became a perfect match made in heaven.”

The leasehold arrangement will allow the Taylor company, a nonprofit, and George Comfort to claim an exemption from property taxes on the space.

George Comfort said it was pleased to help the dance troupe expand its presence in the city.

“World-renowned cultural institutions like the Paul Taylor Dance Company are the lifeblood of New York City and a key component to the Big Apple’s enduring allure,” Peter S. Duncan, the president and chief executive of George Comfort & Sons, said in a statement.

Paul Taylor, whose founder died in 2018, is one of the few dance companies in New York with a substantial real estate footprint. (Others include Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, the Mark Morris Dance Group and Dance Theater of Harlem.) Dance troupes have long struggled to find affordable space to rehearse and perform in the city, one of the world’s most expensive markets, especially since the pandemic, which has created new financial pressures for performing arts groups.

The pandemic forced Paul Taylor to cancel many performances and tours, hurting its revenues; the company’s budget fell to about $6.4 million in 2022 from about $10 million in 2019.

But the company has started to recover. The budget is now roughly $8.3 million and box office sales are roughly at prepandemic levels, totaling nearly $800,000 for its current fiscal year. The company last fall completed its annual season at Lincoln Center, which attracted 25,239 people, compared with 26,104 in 2019. The company has tours planned this year in the United States as well as Italy.

After its move to Midtown, the Taylor company will maintain its roughly 13,000-square-foot space on the Lower East Side, which it has been leasing for about 15 years. That space will be used for performances and community programs; it will also be rented out for events.

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🩰The Royal Ballet Casting For 50th Anniversary of Manon 🩰

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Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon returns for its 50th Anniversary

Francesca Hayward in Manon. Photo : Alice Pennefather/ROH

This new year, The Royal Ballet presents Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon, marking 50 years since the production’s 1974 premiere, and 100 years since the death of its esteemed designer Nicholas Georgiadis.

Adapted from Abbé Prévost’s novel Manon Lescaut, Manon embodies Kenneth MacMillan at his best, his acute insight into human psychology and his mastery of narrative choreography finding full expression in the impassioned duets of the central couple, visceral and urgent in their desire. With its evocative designs, and powerful tale of poverty, love and longing, the work is one
of the most dramatic and devastating ballets in the repertory. Set to music by Jules Massenet, and with lighting design by Jacopo Pantani, the ballet is regularly performed by companies across the world.

The production’s premiere, which received a standing ovation, was danced by Antoinette Sibley and Anthony Dowell in the lead roles. This revival now offers a new generation of dances the chance to take on some of ballet’s most beloved roles. Debuts include Yasmine Naghdi and Fumi Kaneko as Manon, and Marcelino Sambé, William Bracewell and Calvin Richardson as Lescaut.

In addition to a full stage run, the production will be broadcast live to cinemas across the world on Wednesday 7 February. The cast that night includes Natalia Osipova and Reece Clarke in the lead roles. Encores will follow from Sunday 11 February.

There is also an Insight event – 50 Years of Manon – on 12th January at 7.45pm, which is currently sold out but you can check for returns.

The Royal Ballet

MANON

17 January – 8 March 2024

Live in cinemas: Wednesday 7 February 2024, 7.15pm GMT

Encores from: Sunday 11 February 2024, 2pm GMT

£49–£140

Manon Casting

17 JANUARY 2024

WEDNESDAY, 7.30PM

Francesca Hayward, Marcelino Sambé, Alexander Campbell

19 JANUARY 2024

FRIDAY, 7.30PM

Lauren Cuthbertson, Matthew Ball, Ryoichi Hirano

20 JANUARY 2024

SATURDAY, 7.30PM

Yasmine Naghdi, William Bracewell, Luca Acri

3 FEBRUARY 2024

SATURDAY, 1PM

Natalia Osipova, Reece Clarke, Alexander Campbell

3 FEBRUARY 2024

SATURDAY, 7PM

Yasmine Naghdi, William Bracewell, Luca Acri

7 FEBRUARY 2024

WEDNESDAY, 7.30PM

Natalia Osipova, Reece Clarke, Alexander Campbell

9 FEBRUARY 2024

FRIDAY, 7.30PM

Marianela Nuñez, Roberto Bolle, Ryoichi Hirano

14 FEBRUARY 2024

WEDNESDAY, 7.30PM

Lauren Cuthbertson, Matthew Ball, Ryoichi Hirano

17 FEBRUARY 2024

SATURDAY, 1PM

Francesca Hayward, Marcelino Sambé, Alexander Campbell

17 FEBRUARY 2024

SATURDAY, 7PM

Marianela Nuñez, Roberto Bolle, Ryoichi Hirano

23 FEBRUARY 2024

FRIDAY, 7.30PM

Fumi Kaneko, Vadim Muntagirov, Joseph Sissens

26 FEBRUARY 2024

MONDAY, 7.30PM

CAST CHANGE

Sarah Lamb, Ryoichi Hirano, James Hay

27 FEBRUARY 2024

TUESDAY, 7.30PM

Fumi Kaneko, Vadim Muntagirov, Joseph Sissens

2 MARCH 2024

SATURDAY, 1PM

CAST CHANGE

Sarah Lamb, Ryoichi Hirano, James Hay

2 MARCH 2024

SATURDAY, 7PM

Akane Takada, Alexander Campbell, Valentino Zucchetti

5 MARCH 2024

TUESDAY, 7.30PM

Melissa Hamilton, Calvin Richardson, James Hay

8 MARCH 2024

FRIDAY, 7.30PM

Akane Takada, Alexander Campbell, Valentino Zucchetti

Casting is subject to change.

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Misty Copeland is ‘not scared’ to face a career beyond dance

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In a Land of Primary Colors, Home Is Where the Bounce House Is

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What makes a house a home? And what constitutes an American home? Planted dead center on the stage in “This House Is Not a Home,” a slippery, ever-shifting work by Nile Harris, is a house — a bounce house. But it’s more than an inflatable plaything.

It is at the heart of a web of ideas that touch on national politics, arts funding and a local New York scene — the tiny slice of Lower Manhattan known as Dimes Square. You get a sense of where Harris stands on that bit of geography: In “This House,” there is a fight. Over a vape.

Beginning Saturday as part of the Under the Radar festival, “This House” — sad and boisterous, dark yet at times blisteringly funny — will be reprised at Abrons Arts Center, where it was first presented with Ping Chong and Company last summer. (Harris is a member of Ping Chong’s artistic leadership team.)

A provocative look at politics and race, “This House” is a critique of the American experience that explores the intersections of modern-day liberalism, the attack on the U.S. Capitol, and well-meaning nonprofit arts institutions. It gets raucous. Will the bounce house survive this insurrection?

The idea for what became the work began in the summer of 2020 when Harris, 28, and his friend, the interdisciplinary artist Trevor Bazile, started to fantasize about a bounce house. It reminded them of the Capitol Building, Harris said, but it could also represent any institution — and then morph back into “a preadolescent meme.”

Harris started to envision a series of happenings that might incorporate a bounce house: “Should we pull up to a George Floyd protest with a bounce castle,” he said of one idea, “and have people jump for Black lives?”

The bounce house idea was placed on the back burner until 2021, when Bazile became the director of New People’s Cinema Club, a New York film festival funded in part by the venture capitalist Peter Thiel, a financial supporter of Trump-aligned candidates. “Trevor had a very clear point of view around, like, it doesn’t matter the hand that feeds you — it’s all bad,” Harris recalled. “There’s no clean money.”

“With this Peter Thiel money,” he added, “we bought a bounce castle because that was on our forever list to do.”

As part of the film festival that year, Harris and Bazile hosted a party featuring a bounce house in a Dimes Square loft. But just two days after the festival closed, Bazile, who was 25, died suddenly. (Harris declined to specify a cause.) While “This House” is a running commentary — sonic, spoken, choreographic — on many subjects, it is, at its core, a meditation on grief.

It’s also an extension of a manifesto, released by Harris and Bazile as a Google document, about a fictional board meeting. The manifesto, a labyrinth of hyperlinks, poses questions like: “Do you like Black voices or just the voices that say what you want to hear?” “Will you wear your Telfar bag to the race war?”

Throughout “This House,” Harris appears in disguises, including Woody from “Toy Story” and a gingerbread minstrel character he calls Timmy, whose face is fixed in a smile. “Maybe there’s some comment there about Blackness and Black life, but it’s a smiling face,” he said. “It’s approachable.”

Dyer Rhoads, the production’s dramaturg and set designer, has created a vibrant set that brings to life a universe of primary colors, where paintings, plastic and, of course, the bounce house, function as a larger-than-life diorama. But because “This House” reacts to the events of the moment, it will not be the same show it was last summer.

“I always say it’s 60 percent set and 40 percent improvised,” Harris said of the show, which is informed by world events and uses improvisation, including audience interactions. “It responds to current affairs, it responds to the conditions that it’s put in. And we are in a very different state in the world than we were six months ago.”

Improvisation means everything to Harris, who added, “How I understand being a moving and performing body is responding to what is presently happening in the room.”

“This House” features the performance artist Crackhead Barney employing her daring crowd work; and the dancer Malcolm-x Betts, whose unfurling, out-of-body improvisations lend a vivid vulnerability to an increasingly fractious stage world. To Harris, the work is a play. But the “the play,” he said, “is the people. The play is about me, Malcolm and Barney and our thoughts on the world.”

Harris, born and raised in Miami, was a serious theater student growing up. He attended the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, along with Rhoads, and graduated with a B.F.A. in acting. “I’m an actor for better or worse,” he said. “I don’t know what I am.”

Actually, you get the feeling that he does know — or at least that through making art, he’s figuring it out. Harris has created shows since his teenage years; after moving to New York in 2017, he discovered the experimental downtown dance world and took a formative workshop with the choreographer Sidra Bell. “It really cracked open my brain,” he said of her improvisatory approach. “If I have any dance education, that is a point of reference."

He studied clowning, too: “A lot of how I understand my relationship to audience is through the notion of clowning,” he said. “There may be laughter, there may be costuming, there’s physicality.”

Creating the physical approach for Betts’s movement in “This House” began when the pair spoke about childhood memories; Betts said that it was as if the bounce house represented the ghosts of children.

Betts’s improvisations are rooted in his movement background — Black club house dancing, vogueing, West African dance. “The dancing is very physical,” he said. “The memories are moving through me, and memory can also trigger you to go into a space that you don’t expect to go. It’s triggering in a way that enables something new to unlock.”

Even as Harris calls “This House” a play or even an opera — the sound design is an important component, especially the way that vocal amplification is incorporated — he thinks a lot about language in the body. He doesn’t consider himself a dancer, though he has performed as one, and dance is a continuing practice for him, he said, “inside of my greater theatrical concerns and convictions.”

“I love dancers,” he said. “I hang out with dancers, I’m in that community of people. There’s just something about that community of artists that is really just moving. If you can commit to valuing impermeable things that barely exist and dedicating your whole heart to it? It’s so not shiny, it’s so not sexy. It’s just, like, that commitment is work. And that feels really important.”

That also relates to something Rhoads, the dramaturg, said about “This House”: “In a lot of ways, it’s ended up being about the risks we take for art.”

And Harris is open to risks. Big ones. “Do you want to know my dream?” he said. “I really want to create and direct a pop star concert. It’s not narrative — it’s associative, it’s sound based, it’s image based and it’s dancing.”

He said he was thinking of a Doja Cat — someone who would get him, someone who would appreciate his affinity for creating interludes with weird little meme jokes. “I want to work with scale,” Harris said. “There’s no opportunities for emerging artists or an artist in New York to work with scale. By hell or high water, I will.”



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Dance Math: George Balanchine and Trisha Brown

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Happy New Year. I like the number 2024. It almost looks like 2+2=4. Common sense. Hopefully there will be more of that, all around, this year than last year.

In dance, numbers matter. I’m thinking of two choreographers whose brilliant use of numbers are very different: George Balanchine and Trisha Brown. What prompted me to notice this was two recent events: The latest issue of Dance Index, and the creation of Trisha Brown Company’s Vimeo page. In the first, Jed Perl mentions Balanchine’s use of numbers as an inspiration for some of Arlene Croce’s writings featured in that issue. The second has posted several pieces and excerpts of excerpts that illuminate Trisha Brown’s math.

For both choreographers, the math helps the audience make sense of the work, and it helps the dancers stay connected to the other people onstage.

Boston Ballet in Stravinsky Violin Concerto, ph Liza Voll

In Balanchine’s Stravinsky Violin Concerto (1972) each of the 4 soloists introduces themselves with an entourage of 4 dancers. Each star has their own constellation—or backup group. Four tight groups of 4, and one spread-out group of 4 (the leads). The 4 leads break into 2 and 2, one exquisitely modernist duet after the other. The corps of 16 (8 women and 8 men) breaks into 4 groups of 4, or 8 couples. They never all do the same steps until right near the end, and then, suddenly, for the very last position, they all break into couples—just to remind you that you’ve been watching 10 x 2 = 20 people.

Kansas City Ballet in Stravinsky Violin Concerto ph Steve Wilson

In La Valse (1951), naturally the unit changes to 3. (After all, it’s a waltz.) It starts with 3 women in elegant Karinska gowns. Later a man partners 3 women at once (shades of Apollo). The corps of 24 is sometimes divided into trios, and of course the timing is in 3/4. And the woman in white is caught in a triangle between her lover and the death figure.

New York City Ballet in La Valse, costumes by Karinska

Balanchine famously said, If you don’t like the dancing, you can close your eyes and listen to the music. Well I say, If you don’t like the dancing, you can keep your eyes open and count the math.

For Trisha Brown, the Accumulation series is not only about numbers, but also about how we learn. We go back to the beginning each time and add something new. Trisha made her first Accumulation in 1971. She stands in silence and begins her 1st move, extending her right thumb outward, just like a hitch-hiking gesture. After a while, she adds the 2nd move, which is both thumbs extending outward. With the thumbs constantly going, she intersperses a dropped arm, a sinking hip, a head turn. Since she repeats each addition a few times, whenever the new move comes, you notice it. (Click on Accumulation on the Vimeo page.)

Group Primary Accumulation (1973) photo Nina Vandenberg, 2008

Brown’s Group Primary Accumulation (not yet posted on the Vimeo page) is a more explicit counting dance, structured like “The 12 Days of Christmas.” In it, 4 women gradually accumulate 30 moves while lying down, not even seeing each other until movement # 13. In order to stay together, they have to feel the group rhythm as they are counting. Their concentration is intense, which makes the audience concentrate too. When we are counting along with the dancers, we’re involved in a physical memory game.

Tamara Riewe, Melinda Myers, and Judith Sanchez Ruiz, in a screen grab of Glacial Decoy, set design and costumes by Rauschenberg

In Glacial Decoy (1979), 2 women perform together for a while. Then a 3rd enters from the side, joining them in near unison, then a 4th, creating the illusion that there are even more dancers extending laterally, beyond the wings. It’s hard to count the dancers because they keep drifting in and out. Meanwhile there are definitely 4 frames of Robert Rauschenberg’s photographic images upstage that keep changing. Whereas the number of dancers is destabilized, the number of frames, even as the images shift to the next frame, is stable. (Click on an excerpt of Decoy on the Vimeo page.)

Watching these math-rich ballets, you can meditate on the numbers. I feel that our arithmetic brain is stimulated simultaneously with the art brain. They require a multi-layered alertness from us.

Both Balanchine and Brown have made many ballets rich in math. I invite you to enter your own favorite numbers dances, from either of them or any other choreographer, in the Comments below.

Group Primary Accumulation (1972) ph Babette Mangolte, design from Columbia conference on dance history titled Accumulation

 



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Maurice Hines, Tap-Dancing Star With His Brother, Dies at 80

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Maurice Hines, a high-wattage song-and-dance man who rose to stardom as a child in a tap-dancing act with his brother, Gregory, then performed on and off Broadway, including in shows he directed and choreographed, died on Friday in Englewood, N.J. He was 80.

His death, at the Actors Fund Home, was confirmed by his cousin Richard Nurse. No specific cause was given.

The Hines brothers inherited a tap-dance tradition on the wane and, decades later, had a lot to do with bringing it back into the public consciousness. They started dance classes in Harlem when Maurice was 5 and Gregory was 3. After two years, they came under the tutelage of the great tap teacher and choreographer Henry LeTang, who made them into an act modeled after the high-flying Nicholas Brothers.

They spent many days watching show after show at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, soaking up the styles of tap dancers like Teddy Hale, Bunny Briggs and the duo Coles and Atkins, sometimes getting lessons from them in the alley out back. As the Hines Kids, they performed at the Apollo, too, and at Catskills resorts, Las Vegas casinos, Miami nightclubs and theaters in Europe, as well as in the 1954 Broadway show “The Girl in Pink Tights.”

Since tap dancing was going out of fashion, the Hines brothers folded more and more comedy and singing into their act, inspired by Sammy Davis Jr., a role model with whom they performed. Their father, a drummer, later joined them, and as Hines, Hines and Dad, they toured the country, appeared often on “The Tonight Show” with Johnny Carson and, in 1968, recorded an album, “Pandemonium!”

The brothers had distinct styles. Gregory gravitated toward the loose but hard-swinging improvisational mode of hoofers like John Bubbles, while Maurice drew more broadly from ballet and jazz dance, embellishing his close-to-the-floor footwork with florid arm gestures like those of his hero, Fayard Nicholas, while throwing in high kicks and spins.

Their approach to the audience differed, too. Gregory “was so laid back, so effortless,” Maurice told The New York Times in 2016, “and he would always say that he never had to worry about the audience when we performed together because I would get them. Because I was relentless. That’s how we worked so well together.”

“Maurice was always in charge,” Mr. Nurse said in the 2019 documentary “Maurice Hines: Bring Them Back.” In the act, Gregory was often the butt of the jokes — “the lovable idiot,” his father called him — and in 1973, Gregory quit, moving to Southern California and becoming a kind of hippie who played in a jazz-rock band.

At first, Maurice was at loose ends without his brother, but he was soon cast in a production of “Guys and Dolls,” and he coaxed Gregory back to New York with the promise of work. It was he and Mr. LeTang who got Gregory hired to join Maurice in “Eubie!,” a 1978 Broadway revue based on the songs of the early jazz composer Eubie Blake. They were a brother act again, doing joint interviews and appearing together on “Sesame Street.” But it was Gregory, not Maurice, who was nominated for a Tony Award for his performance in the show.

And it was Gregory who became a star in Hollywood movies and again on Broadway in the 1984 Duke Ellington revue “Sophisticated Ladies.” When Gregory toured the show to Los Angeles, Maurice took over Gregory’s role in New York. “Gregory said I would make the show run longer, and I did,” Maurice recalled in an interview.

With Mercedes Ellington, a granddaughter of Duke, Mr. Hines created Balletap USA, a company that danced not just to jazz but also to contemporary music, like that of Michael Jackson. But he soon abandoned the company for the chance to appear with his brother in a 1984 film, Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Cotton Club.”

In the film, set in and around the famous Harlem nightclub of the same name in the 1920s, the Hines brothers play a brother act much like themselves. Their fraternal affection and tension inform scenes that were largely improvised, as they reprise Hines Brothers routines, feud when Gregory’s character becomes a star soloist and eventually reconcile onstage. Offstage and off camera, they were soon feuding again, not speaking to each other for a decade for reasons they never publicly revealed.

In 1986, Maurice created, directed, choreographed and starred in a Broadway show, “Uptown … It’s Hot,” a rare achievement for a Black artist. His performance, which surveyed several decades of Black popular music, earned him a Tony nomination as best actor in a musical, but the show closed within a few weeks.

In 1994, Maurice took over for his brother again, this time in a touring production of the innovative Broadway musical “Jelly’s Last Jam,” for which Gregory had won a Tony Award for his performance as the jazz pioneer Jelly Roll Morton. (In his acceptance speech, Gregory thanked everyone in his family but left out his brother.)

Filling the role meant going toe to toe with the teenager who played the young Morton: Savion Glover, who would soon be considered Gregory’s successor as the king of tap. Once, during a challenge-dance exchange between the older and younger Mortons, Maurice, then in his 40s, did a flip into a split — “and Savion knelt down before me,” Mr. Hines said in an interview.

Mr. Hines created more touring shows, such as “Harlem Suite,” but Broadway success eluded him. “Hot Feet,” a 2006 Broadway revue, set to music by Earth, Wind and Fire, that he conceived, directed and choreographed, closed within a few months.

In his final show, the critically acclaimed “Tappin’ Thru Life,” which toured from 2010 through 2019, he sang, danced and told stories — mainly about his brother, who died of cancer at 57 in 2003.

Maurice Robert Hines Jr. was born on Dec. 14, 1943, in Manhattan. His father worked various jobs, including as a salesman, a bouncer and a semiprofessional baseball player, before becoming a musician and joining his sons’ act. His mother, Alma (Lawless) Hines, was a waitress at the Audubon Ballroom and helped manage her sons’ careers. The family soon moved from Harlem to Brooklyn, and the brothers, while pursuing their career, attended schools for professional children.

In the early 1980s, Mr. Hines joined the jazz dance teacher Frank Hatchett in running the Hines-Hatchett dance studio in Manhattan (now Broadway Dance Center).

Later that decade, he moved to Los Angeles, where, with Silas Davis, his partner at the time, he adopted and raised a daughter, Cheryl Davis. She is his only immediate survivor.

Mr. Hines was known for speaking his mind. He liked to tell a story about appearing on Regis Philbin’s TV show, refusing to dance, and then, after Mr. Philbin danced instead, informing him, “Your charisma doesn’t extend to your feet.”

In interviews, Mr. Hines often complained about New York theater critics, the economics of Broadway and prejudice against Black artists. In his final years, though, he spoke mostly about a glorious past and about missing his brother.

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Introducing Our 2024 “25 to Watch”

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Electric performances, thought-provoking choreography, buzzy bodies of work—the artists on our annual list of dancers, choreographers, directors, and companies poised for a breakout share an uncanny knack for arresting attention. They’ve been turning heads while turning what’s expected—in a performance, from a career trajectory—on its head. We’re betting we’ll be seeing a lot more of them this year, and for many years to come.

Clarissa Rivera Dyas

Freelance dancer and choreographer

Clarissa Rivera Dyas (center) with Megan Lowe and Malia Hatico-Byrne in Megan Lowe Dances’ Gathering Pieces of Peace. Photo by RJ Muna, courtesy Dyas.

Clarissa Rivera Dyas thrives most in collaboration with other artists, and layers different art forms with sophistication. She created Something Remains, her 2022 evening-length choreographic debut, with visual artist and composer Jakob Pek. In it, Dyas and her three dancers pushed the boundaries of physicality as they danced with long rolls of paper and paint, serving as both brushes and canvas. Her dynamic movement, which defied predictability as it showcased both strength and vulnerability, served as the perfect counterpoint to Pek’s experimental score.

Dyas, a sought-after performer for artists like Robert Moses, prioritizes disrupting norms, challenging expectations, and embracing the raw, vulnerable, and even sloppy in her work. “How can we involve the idea of failure?” she asks. “As a Black queer artist, there is little room for failure. How can we allow for failure?”

In 2021, after recurring experiences of being tokenized in the largely white-led Bay Area dance scene, she co-founded the nonhierarchical artist collective RUPTURE alongside fellow queer Black artists jose e. abad, Stephanie Hewett, Gabriele Christian, and Styles Alexander. “It’s about being in process with collective rest, play, and somatic experimentation as resistance,” she says, “challenging what it means to be in dance and performance.” A RUPTURE event might include dance, live sound design, spoken word, visual art, multimedia elements, community engagement, improvisation, and play. In June, the cohort will present a new work at San Francisco’s Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture.

Rachel Caldwell

Danielle Swatzie

Freelance dancer, choreographer, and filmmaker

Danielle Swatzie poses against a blue wall on one leg. Her back leg bends in a parallel attitude as her torso tips parallel to the floor. She twists to look at the camera, one arm by her head, the other pressing long against the wall beside her. She wears a purple tank top and blue jeans.
Danielle Swatzie. Photo by Shocphoto, courtesy Swatzie.

If any contemporary dance artist captures the spirit of Atlanta’s up-and-coming generation, it’s Danielle Swatzie. Take her solo The Fleeting Serenade. In the section set to Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of the jazz standard “Angel Eyes,” Swatzie whirls across the stage, her legs slicing arcs, arms gesturing in staccato bursts as she embodies the emotional turmoil churning beneath the song’s smooth surface.

A graduate of Philadelphia’s University of the Arts, Swatzie is equally compelling in front of or behind a camera. She creates an aura of honesty, thoughtfulness, and fearless compassion combined with a drive to unpack­ inner emotional landscapes. Her dance films, which illuminate a vision of a more equitable world, have been garnering increasing attention. META, a solo reflecting on family, generational trauma, and feminine empowerment, received the 2021 BronzeLens Film Festival Award for Best Music/Dance Video. Her growing roots through concrete was selected for American Dance Festival’s 2023 Movies By Movers festival. The film features seven young women artists, Black and white, who join together in precarious group counterbalances to confront individual experiences with racism and find wholeness as a community—as Swatzie says, through “radical connection and radical love to manifest radical change.”

—Cynthia Bond Perry

Grace Rookstool

Soloist, Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre

Last season, Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre’s statuesque Grace Rookstool made a pair of major debuts. The then–corps-member embodied emotional resilience as Mina in Michael Pink’s Dracula and showed off her commanding stage presence and technical prowess as Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. She dances with an assuredness that artistic director Adam McKinney says got her promoted to the rank of soloist for this season. “She is a consummate professional, a classicist, and has a natural sensibility to embody music,” he says of the 23-year-old.

Born and raised on Whidbey Island, Washington, Rookstool trained at Pacific Northwest Ballet School and in its Professional Division Program. While there, she was selected for an exchange program with Dresden Semperoper Ballett and danced in its production of La Bayadère. She joined PBT’s corps de ballet in 2019.

Grace Rookstool balances in back attitude on pointe. Her arms are raised in a soft V similar to Swan Lake. Her blonde hair is loose behind her shoulders. She wears a black practice tutu over a turquoise leotard.
Grace Rookstool. Photo by Anita Buzzy Prentiss, courtesy PBT.

A truly versatile dancer, Rookstool says she most enjoys high-flying jumps. Expect her career to soar in 2024.

Steve Sucato

Erina Ueda

Dancer, Giordano Dance Chicago

Erina Ueda balances on the tips of her toes in forced arch, knees turning in. She lifts the chin as she regards the camera, arms crossed so one elbow elevates an elegantly raised hand. She wears a white cardigan open over black leather leggings and black heeled jazz shoes.
Erina Ueda. Photo by Todd Rosenberg, courtesy Giordano Dance Chicago.

Erina Ueda’s breakout moment with Giordano Dance Chicago came last April in Kia Smith’s Luminescence. With a cast of 22 dancers filling the cavernous Harris Theater, the piece starts and ends with Ueda completely alone, in a solo showcasing her unbridled facility and unflappable joy. Giordano’s dancers are known for their silky jazz technique balanced with razor-sharp precision. Ueda has that and more, bringing honesty and authenticity to the company’s rep. 

Ueda earned a BFA in dance with a minor in psychology from the University of Arizona, not too far from her hometown of Chandler, Arizona. Born in Japan, she was the first Asian woman to join the 60-year-old Giordano company. She’s upped its digital game, too, as the company’s social media manager and video content producer since her arrival in 2022.

—Lauren Warnecke

Donovan Reed

Dancer, A.I.M by Kyle Abraham

Nature metaphors spring to mind as you watch A.I.M by Kyle Abraham’s Donovan Reed. They seem driven by wind, buoyed by water, licked by fire. They might stop a liquid phrase cold with a thorny angle—not breaking the spider’s thread of movement, but rather snapping it taut. They can make the unlikeliest shapes look organic. (Though these qualities never feel less than authentic to Reed, they are very Abraham-esque: Reed, who’s danced with A.I.M since 2018, can channel the choreographer with uncanny precision.)

But Reed is an unmistakably human performer, too. In Abraham’s MotorRover—a duet that responds to Merce Cunningham’s 1972 work Landroverthey temper Cunningham’s signature formality with playfulness and wit, carrying on a danced conversation with partner Jamaal Bowman that seems full of little inside jokes. Reed’s a force of nature with a soul.

Margaret Fuhrer

Donovan Reed swings one leg in a parallel attitude behind them. Their opposite arm swings to one side, hand in a fist, as they twist to look over their shoulder toward their back leg. They are barefoot and wear brown pants and a tank top with a strip of flowing blue material. The sleeveless shirt reveals tattoos on their left arm.
Donovan Reed in Kyle Abraham’s MotorRover. Photo by Christopher Duggan, courtesy A.I.M by Kyle Abraham.

Kaitlyn Sardin

Irish and hip-hop dancer

You might know her as @kaitrock: the artist whose one-of-a-kind, Irish-dance-meets-hip-hop mashups have earned her an avid following on Instagram and beyond. While traditional Irish dance, with its strict verticality, might seem at odds with more full-bodied and grounded ways of moving, Kaitlyn Sardin finds their common thread: rhythm. Through drumming feet, swiping arms, or swiveling knees, she can tease out the intricacies of whatever sound is fueling her. (Beyoncé, Tinashe, and Victoria Monét are a few current favorites.) In every aspect of her short-form solos—including her colorful fashion choices—she is unabashedly herself.

Kaitlyn Sardin smiles sunnily as she flies through the air. Her legs are tight together, one heel tucked up behind her, the opposite arm tossed overhead. She wears a brown, geometrically patterned blouse open over a black sports bra and beige athletic shorts. Her blonde and brown braids fly around her.
Kaitlyn Sardin. Photo by Isabella Herrera, courtesy Sardin.

A former competitive Irish dancer with a foundation of razor-sharp technique (she grew up training at the Watters School in Orlando), Sardin broadened her dance horizons as a student at Hofstra University, where she began adding forms like dancehall and vogue to her vocabulary. She has toured with the Chicago-based Trinity Irish Dance Company and is gearing up for new projects in 2024. From February 14–March 3, you can find her performing in Jean Butler’s What We Hold at the Irish Arts Center in Manhattan. 

Being Black and queer in the mostly white, sometimes culturally conservative world of Irish dance, she’s aware that younger dancers who break with convention might see themselves in her. Her advice for them? “Just go for it. Don’t be afraid, and the world will embrace you.”

Siobhan Burke

Jake Roxander

Corps member, American Ballet Theatre

Watching Jake Roxander as Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet last July, it was hard to believe that he was making his Metropolitan Opera House debut in the role. Without a trace of nerves, the 21-year-old American Ballet Theatre corps member fully inhabited the character—cocky, loveable, magnetic, with flashes of hot-tempered recklessness. Then there was his dancing: Each solo was thrillingly virtuosic and highly musical, with pirouettes that paused momentarily on relevé—just enough time for him to give an impish grin before he was on to the next feat. 

Roxander comes from a family of dancers; he and his brother Ashton, a principal with Philadelphia Ballet, were trained by parents David and Elyse Roxander at their studio in Medford, Oregon. He spent a season with Philadelphia Ballet’s second company before joining ABT’s Studio Company in 2020, where he stood out in Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes and a duet from Twyla Tharp’s Known by Heart.

Jake Roxander piques to croisé attitude back, palms open in high fifth and second. He smiles easily, chin raised. He wears an orange-brown tunic with white poofs along the sleeves, white tights, and ballet slippers. Similarly costumed dancers with prop mandolins and watching villagers are visible upstage.
Jake Roxander as Mercutio in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet. Photo by Rosalie O’Connor, courtesy ABT.

ABT has wasted no time pushing Roxander to the forefront since he joined the main company in 2022. This fall he danced principal roles in Harald Lander’s Études and Alexei Ratmansky’s Piano Concerto No. 1, and debuted in the role of Puck in Sir Frederick Ashton’s The Dream. With his powerful, unforced technique and boy-next-door charm, he is making a name for himself, and fast. 

Amy Brandt

Jindallae Bernard

Choreographer, filmmaker, and corps member, Houston Ballet

Jindallae Bernard balances in a clean first arabesque, arms high by her head. She wears a feathery white tutu and headpiece, pink tights, and pointe shoes.
Jindallae Bernard in Stanton Welch’s Swan Lake. Photo by Amitava Sarkar, courtesy Houston Ballet.

Jindallae Bernard’s portrayal of the jealous Lady Rokujo in Nao Kusuzaki’s Genji, an Asia Society Texas Center commission, exuded chilly charm and understated, seductive sensuality. Her quiet authority and stoic elegance also served her well in Stanton Welch’s neoclassical Tu Tu at Houston Ballet, though she proved equally capable of turning up the voltage in Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes. And her talents extend to choreography and filmmaking, too.

Bernard joined Houston Ballet’s corps in 2022. She’s been with the organization since she was 6 years old, rising through the Academy and Houston Ballet II before landing an apprenticeship in 2021. During her training, she took on several choreographic opportunities. Her whimsical short dance film Phase, created in 2020 during a virtual summer program composition class, so caught the eye of artistic director Stanton Welch that the company showcased it during its first live performance after the pandemic pause. “Her work feels so high-end, from the story to her use of color and light, and her directorial insight,” says Welch. He selected her to premiere a new ballet in December for the company’s annual Jubilee of Dance, for which she created Parodie de l’histoire du ballet. Says Bernard: “My goal is to contribute in as many ways as I can.”

Nancy Wozny

Kia Smith

Executive artistic director, South Chicago Dance Theatre

An African American woman on a black background dances wearing a blue flowing dress. She arches backward with one leg bent, one arm extended and the other arm bent above her head. Her eyes are closed.
Kia Smith. Photo by Michelle Reid, courtesy Smith.

Last year’s premiere of Memoirs of Jazz in the Alley proved a perfect showcase for choreographer and director Kia Smith. The evening-length “dance opera” exemplified her choreographic voice—note-by-note precision, fluid torso movement, unexpected gesture, powerful unison—and marked the debut of her 7-year-old company, South Chicago Dance Theatre, at the Auditorium Theatre, its largest venue to date. The work paid homage to Smith’s childhood experiences at her musician father’s weekly Jazz in the Alley gatherings. That background surfaces in the way her dances feel born out of the detail and nuance of jazz music.

Smith’s success lies not only in her artistic acumen but also in the way she considers dance and the business of it on a large scale. The Chicago native is both artistic and executive director of SCDT, which has expanded its presence at home through the South Chicago Dance Festival and abroad with its Choreographic Diplomacy international exchange program. Amidst a growing list of outside commissions—notably including the rousing Luminescence for Giordano Dance Chicago’s 60th anniversary last spring—this year Smith will bring her company on tour to Seoul, South Korea, and return to the Auditorium Theatre with another world premiere.

Maureen Janson

Hohyun Kang

Sujet, Paris Opéra Ballet

Hohyun Kang piques to first arabesque on a shadowy stage, a subtle smile on her face. She wears a simple white tutu, pink tights, and pointe shoes.
Hohyun Kang. Photo by Svetlana Loboff, courtesy Paris Opéra Ballet.

A morbid teenager involved in a murder-suicide isn’t exactly an easy first major role. Yet from the moment South Korea’s Hohyun Kang, who joined Paris Opéra Ballet in 2018, stepped out as Mary Vetsera in Mayerling last season, she found logic and purpose in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s choreography. As she draped herself around Paul Marque, her Prince Rudolf, her lines sizzled with dramatic tension.

It was an arresting breakthrough for the 28-year-old, who had been on balletomanes’ radar for her easy, radiant musicality and technique in ballets such as Balanchine’s Concerto Barocco. A graduate of Korea National University of Arts, she was noticed by William Forsythe shortly after joining POB and landed a soloist role in his Blake Works I, before quietly making her way up the ranks and becoming a sujet (soloist) last season. She is already slated for a Kitri debut in April—and may well follow in the footsteps of Paris’ first South Korean étoile, Sae Eun Park.

—Laura Cappelle

Karla Puno Garcia

Musical theater choreographer

When last year’s Tony Awards had to go without a script and instead lean on dance to set the scene, host Ariana DeBose knew just the choreographer who could pull it off: Karla Puno Garcia. The resulting opening number brought viewers on a danced journey through the United Palace theater, using Garcia’s spunky, sassy movement to amp up excitement for the night. Later, Garcia’s unapologetically feminine flair and super-satisfying musicality showcased DeBose and Julianne Hough in a duet that felt both timely and timeless.

Karla Puno Garcia poses against a white backdrop. She steps into one hip, one arm crossing over her torso while the other drapes overhead. She gazes directly at the camera. Her black hair is loose around her shoulders. She wears a white cropped shirt, black pants, and strappy black heels.
Karla Puno Garcia. Photo by Laura Irion, courtesy Garcia.

Garcia was the first woman of color to choreograph the Tonys. But it’s far from her only brush with the event. A Broadway vet who’s been dancing on the Great White Way since her college days at New York University, she previously performed with the casts of Gigi and Hamilton at the Tonys and was a dancer and associate choreographer in 2021 when Sergio Trujillo choreographed the opening number. Soon, she may even be up for a Tony herself: She’s making her Broadway choreographic debut this January with Days of Wine and Roses, which she co-choreographed with Trujillo.

For his part, Trujillo thinks she’s “unstoppable” as a choreographer: “Karla’s like a musician that can play all the instruments with her feet and arms and body,” he says. “She comes across as incredibly gentle, but she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

—Jennifer Heimlich

Kuu Sakuragi

Soloist, Pacific Northwest Ballet

Kuu Sakuragi looks over his shoulder to throw a broad smile at the audience as he leaps into the air. His legs are pressed together and raised behind him; one arm opens in second toward the audience, the other stretching over head. Two male dancers stand slightly upstage, pointing past Sakuragi as they take wide stances.
Kuu Sakuragi with Lucien Postlewaite and Luther DeMyer in Alexei Ratmansky’s Wartime Elegy. Photo by Angela Sterling, courtesy PNB.

With a raw physicality matched with bighearted sensitivity, Kuu Sakuragi is quickly heading toward rockstar status at Pacific Northwest Ballet. He creates electrifying spectacles onstage, delivering one jaw-dropping performance after another. His big technical jumps look as if he’s floating on air, an impression only heightened by his gravity-defying turnin David Parsons’ Caught, while his warmth and humility come through as deference to the other dancers onstage, as in Alexei Ratmansky’s Wartime Elegy. A PNB DanceChance student and Professional Division graduate, Sakuragi joined the corps in 2020 after dancing with Alberta Ballet for three years and was promoted to soloist in November. “Certain dancers live more completely in the moment when they’re dancing,” artistic director Peter Boal says. “Nureyev, Wendy Whelan, Carla Körbes come to mind. Kuu is one of them.” 

Gigi Berardi

Sydnie L. Mosley 

Founding executive and artistic director, SLMDances 

Sydnie Mosley, a Black woman wearing a flowy purple jumpsuit lunges back with her arms out. Her short black afro is held back by a purple scarf, her face shows a clear expression of joy. She is standing barefoot in front of the natural background of Ashfield, Massachusetts. 
Sydnie L. Mosley. Photo by Travis Coe, courtesy Mosley.

In the spring and summer of 2020, conversations about racial equity and social justice erupted across the dance field. How could exclusionary systems be transformed? How could imbalances of power be corrected? How could people better care for one another?

For the choreographer, performer, educator, and writer Sydnie L. Mosley, these questions were nothing new. The Baltimore-born Mosley has been envisioning a future free from oppression—with dance as one way to get there—at least since 2010, when she founded her Harlem-based collective SLMDances. For people just beginning on that journey, she and her collaborators became a guiding light.

A self-described “creative home for trans, cis, nonbinary, queer, disabled, fat, masculine presenting, Black women and femmes of many generations,” SLMDances takes seriously the term “collective,”operating through a model of shared leadership and responsibility. Their community-engaged, joyfully interactive works have tackled issues like street harassment (The Window Sex Project, 2012) and the economics of dance (BodyBusiness, 2015). Their latest, PURPLE: A Ritual in Nine Spells, honors the Black feminist playwright, poet, and dancer Ntozake Shange, whose legacy Mosley extends through her own intertwining of movement and language. Premiering at Lincoln Center last summer, PURPLE marked a turning point for Mosley in its visibility and scale. Her vision persists; what’s changed, perhaps, is the world’s readiness to join her.

—Siobhan Burke

Laila J. Franklin

Independent dance artist

Laila J. Franklin gazes seriously at the camera from amidst trailing vines and greenery. Her hair is cropped close to her head; she wears a voluminous black sweater covered in multicolored puff balls. One arm curves down in front of her, the other twisting up behind her.
Laila J. Franklin. Photo by Bailey Bailey, courtesy Franklin.

Contradictions power Laila J. Franklin’s charisma. She can shift from sly comedy to earnest sincerity over the course of an eight-count. She moves with disarming frankness, making even complex gestures look straightforward and open; she also seems to keep part of herself closed to the audience, protective of her own mystery.

That sense of unknowable-ness sits right at the center of choreographer Miguel Gutierrez’s I as another, which Gutierrez and Franklin performed in New York City last spring. The intimate, probing duet suggests we can never truly know each other, or even ourselves—but we can try. In I as another, Franklin showed a kind of virtuosic empathy, living fully inside Gutierrez’s creative vision without erasing herself. Forget walking in someone else’s shoes—she can dance in their feet.

Franklin, who earned a BFA from Boston Conservatory in 2019 and an MFA from the University of Iowa in 2021, is also a choreographer, teaching artist, and writer. Maybe over time we’ll get to know her better through her own work. Maybe she’ll always keep part of herself a mystery. Either way, she’ll be holding our attention.

Margaret Fuhrer

Lucy Fandel

Independent dancer and choreographer

Lucy Fandel lies on her back, arching to match the curving of the rock around and beneath her. Her eyes are closed, arms draping overhead, while her bare feet press against the edge of the rock. She wears a simple white t-shirt and black shorts.
Lucy Fandel. Photo by Bailey Eng, courtesy Fandel.

In the semi-improvised, place-based dance Lucy Fandel creates, the land is something alive, not just a backdrop. “The inhaling clouds, quivering blades of grass, swarms of gnats, or the occasional romping dog pulled us in,” she writes of her and Bailey Eng’s creative explorations during a residency in Spain. In a section of their filmed field notes, Fandel responds viscerally to these movements in the environment while dancing atop a rocky outcropping, at once fluid and angular as she articulates through her hands, rib cage, pelvis. 

A dance artist, writer, and arts outreach worker, Fandel grew up in Concord, Massachusetts, and Beaulieu-sur-Mer, France. “Switching languages forces you to think differently,” she says. She later crossed borders yet again, moving to Montreal to study contemporary dance and sociology at Concordia University. Fandel’s attachment to sociology field work influenced her dance perspective and, today, she’s at the forefront of the burgeoning sustainable eco-dance movement in Canada. She’s right at home engaging with the landscape during her outdoor research (“conversations,” as she calls them), examining the vectors of science and dance while sensitizing people to the natural environment in all its ambiguity and transformation.

—Philip Szporer

Miguel Alejandro Castillo

Choreographer and freelance performing artist

Miguel Alejandro Castillo runs, mouth wide open seeming to yell. His arms are outstretched, pointer fingers aiming ahead and to the side. His puffy hair flies behind him, as does the draping fabric of his red costume. Words in white font on a black backdrop are projected on the back wall.
Miguel Alejandro Castillo in his loud and clear. Photo by Maria Baranova, courtesy Castillo.

Onstage, Miguel Alejandro Castillo emanates a warmth and wit that creates instant connection. An incredibly committed performance in Faye Driscoll’s whirlwind ensemble work Weathering last April highlighted this generosity. As part of a precarious flesh sculpture that teetered off the edges of a spinning raft, Castillo maintained an active, intense bond with his fellow performers, even as his ponytail swept the ground and it became increasingly unclear whether he was being supported or smothered.

Castillo brings a bright presence and big love into the studio, Driscoll says, alongside an impressive conceptual curiosity. “He’s embracing the full range of human experience,” she says, “connecting the light and the dark.” In his own choreography, the Venezuelan artist, who started in theater, explore­s his native country’s diaspora, blending forms to forge a kind of future folklore.

Castillo recently completed a New York Live Arts Fresh Tracks residency and acted as movement director for the David Lang opera Prisoner of the State. He’ll keep building on that momentum in 2024: In addition to choreographing John Adams’ opera The Gospel According to the Other Mary for Volksoper in Vienna and touring Weathering, Castillo will be a choreographer in residence at both PAGEANT performance space in Brooklyn and Abrons Arts Center in lower Manhattan. 

—Candice Thompson

Naomi Funaki

Tap dancer and choreographer

During the in-person debut of Ayodele Casel’s Chasing Magic, Japanese tap artist Naomi Funaki commanded attention with her clear, confident sounds. She modulated her tones and phrasing to cover a broad emotional spectrum, from contemplative to exuberant, as she floated through a duet, in a role originated by Casel, with joyful ease. “Her technical prowess and rhythmic voice are dynamic and contain so much depth and nuance,” says Casel, who invited Funaki to make her choreographic debut last April during Casel’s Artists at the Center engagement at New York City Center.

Naomi Funaki is caught mid pull-back, tap shoes hovering above the floor. Her arms fly behind her, but she gazes intensely forward. She is costumed in a grey-white puffy dress that matches her shoes. Her dark hair is piled in a bun atop her head. Greenery is visible beyond the stage.
Naomi Funaki. Photo by Christopher Duggan, courtesy Ayodele Casel.

Casel is not alone in her sentiments. Funaki was the recipient of a 2023 Princess Grace Award and is an apprentice with Dorrance Dance. She performed in the December premiere of Caleb Teicher’s reworked Bzzz, a tap-meets-beatbox show for which she also served as assistant choreographer, and in January will show off her range in Leonardo Sandoval’s samba-inflected I Didn’t Come to Stay with Music From The Sole.

Ultimately, Funaki’s goal is to bring the spirit and professionalism of the New York City tap community back to Japan. Casel has every faith that she will, and along the way inspire a whole new generation of tap dancers.

—Candice Thompson

Olivia Bell

Corps member, New York City Ballet

Some dancers demand your attention. New York City Ballet’s Olivia Bell politely requests it. But the elegantly understated dancer is no wallflower. A fervent musicality powers her fine-grained technique, giving it a lush, romantic sweep. 

Bell, who only joined New York City Ballet’s corps in May, still has surprises in store. At last summer’s Vail Dance Festival, she danced Balanchine’s Tarantella, a mile-a-minute showstopper that must have been nearly impossible to survive at Vail’s one-and-a-half-mile elevation. Bell handled the challenge with not just polish but sparkle, nailing the work’s witty musical phrasing and showing off the prodigious pirouettes that most of us had previously only seen on her Instagram page. Here’s to more surprises, and soon, on NYCB’s stage. 

Margaret Fuhrer

Olivia Bell poses in tendu croisé devant. One arm is extended side, the other by her head. She gives a radiant smile, natural hair framing her face. She wears a purple, flowing dress over tights and pointe shoes.
Olivia Bell in Balanchine’s Walpurgisnacht Ballet. Photo by Erin Baiano, courtesy NYCB.

Pauline Casiño 

Commercial dancer

Pauline Casiño, with braided hair and wearing a white crop top and pink pants, poses with her right arm pointing diagonally upwards onstage in the Broadway musical Once Upon a One More Time.
Pauline Casiño in Once Upon a One More Time. Photo by Rebecca J. Michelson, courtesy Casiño.

Pauline Casiño booked her Broadway debut without an in-person audition. She learned about casting for Once Upon a One More Time, directed and choreographed by Keone and Mari Madrid, after the first round of auditions had already concluded and asked her agent to help find a way in. “I always knew of Keone and Mari,” she says. “As a fellow Filipino, I wanted to be part of something they’re creating.” Even though she had never taken class with the Madrids, let alone worked with them before, she landed the part of Esmeralda through a video submission. Onstage, she brought the ensemble character to life with her unforgettable fluidity, powerful femininity, and magnetic presence.

Casiño, who moved to the Bronx from the Philippines at age 12, grew up thinking dance was extracurricular. While studying chemistry in college, she danced in commercial choreographer Candace Brown’s The Soul Spot and BTS’ Love Yourself: Speak Yourself New Jersey concert, but it wasn’t until she graduated in 2020 that she fully embraced dance as her profession. Since then, she has performed with Anitta and Doja Cat at MTV’s Video Music Awards, as well as choreographed and directed her own dance visual. Only three and a half years into seriously pursuing a dance career, Casiño has already proved she has star quality. 

Kristi Yeung

Rafael Ramírez

Flamenco dancer and choreographer

With fluid arms, deep, effortless lunges, supple contractions, and rapid, complex footwork, Rafael Ramírez spellbinds. But it is his old soul, which adds sensual vulnerability to his performances, that leaves an indelible impression.

Rafael Ramírez arches back, knees bending and one foot propped on demi pointe. His eyes close as one hand brushes his face, elbows pointed to the ceiling. He wears a black suit jacket open over matching black pants.
Rafael Ramírez. Photo by Gabriel Asensio, courtesy Ramírez.

Ramírez’s prowess in both traditional and contemporary flamenco captivates across venues, from Spain’s most prestigious tablaos to international theaters with the companies of famed choreographers such as David Coria and Rafaela Carrasco. He’s also garnered critical recognition: In 2021, he won the highly coveted Desplante Masculino at the International Cante de las Minas Festival and, last year, received the 2023 Best New Artist Award from the prestigious Festival Jerez for his Entorno. He carried that momentum into the 2023 Bienal de Málaga, where he premiered Recelo, a collaborative work with prize-winning dancer Florencia Oz exploring the primal emotion of fear, and into a 10-city U.S. tour of his solo show, Lo Preciso, this past fall. With more performances of Recelo ahead, Ramírez enters 2024 on the road to international recognition.

Bridgit Lujan

Yuval Cohen

Corps member, Philadelphia Ballet

Yuval Cohen in retiré passé, arms in an elegant L as he tips slightly off balance. He is in the center of a large rehearsal studio, wearing a white and blue biketard and black ballet slippers.
Yuval Cohen. Photo by Arian Molina Soca, courtesy Philadelphia Ballet.

An elegant carriage and genteel demeanor make Yuval Cohen an ideal storybook prince. But behind that refinement lies impressive power. His explosive, elastic leaps and strong, centered turns had everyone buzzing at last summer’s USA International Ballet Competition in Jackson, Mississippi. The 21-year-old Israeli dancer, a newly promoted Philadelphia Ballet corps member, was the first from his country to medal, taking home the senior bronze.

Cohen’s USA IBC coach was his longtime mentor, Nadya Timofeyeva, with whom he trained at the Jerusalem Ballet School. In 2018, she took him to a competition in Russia, where he won first prize and a spot at the Vaganova Ballet Academy. After becoming the school’s first Israeli graduate in 2021, Cohen joined Moscow’s Bolshoi Ballet. But the pandemic created visa complications, forcing him to return home that summer. 

Cohen joined Philadelphia Ballet II in October 2021 and became a company apprentice the following season. He’s already gained notice in a range of featured roles, including a Stepsister in Cinderella, the Gold variation in The Sleeping Beauty, and Escamillo in Angel Corella’s new production of Carmen, which premiered this fall.

Amy Brandt

Sean Lew 

Commercial dancer and choreographer

Sean Lew, a dancer in a white t-shirt, olive pants with pink trimming, and off-white socks, competes at the Red Bull Dance Your Style National Finals in Chicago on May 20, 2023. He is jumping in the air, with his fists stretched behind him and his knees pulled to his chest.
Sean Lew competing at Red Bull Dance Your Style’s 2023 U.S. national finals. Photo by Chris Hershman/Red Bull Content Pool, courtesy Lew.

In viral YouTube videos, two seasons of NBC’s “World of Dance,” performances with stars from Janet Jackson to Justin Bieber, and his own hour-long dance film, II, Sean Lew has won over millions of fans with his articulate athleticism, honest storytelling, and undeniable charisma. The 22-year-old is far from new to the industry, but he’s still taking his career in new directions. In 2023, he conquered his biggest fear: battling. “It’s not just if you’re good at dancing, then you can battle,” Lew says. “People live, breathe, and eat battling.” He amped up his fitness training and studied freestyle genres such as house and krumping, and, after a humbling early-round loss at his first battle, he went on to win the Red Bull Dance Your Style Los Angeles regionals in April. He then brought home the national title in May and represented the U.S. at the global competition in November.

Despite his newfound commitment to the competitive freestyle scene, Lew continues to grow his career in other areas. Over the last year, he launched his first fitness and dance intensive, Artist Range, with trainer Karl Flores; was a first-time creative director for Jackson Wang’s Coachella performance; and was a first-time co-producer on a Dermot Kennedy music video. “The beauty and curse of my life,” he says, “is I just want to do everything.”

—Kristi Yeung

Solal Mariotte

Independent choreographer and dancer, Rosas

Solal Mariotte pauses in a spotlight. He leans back, twisting toward a raised, bent arm. A dancer beside him raises both hands as though casting a spell. Circles and squares are etched in different colors of tape across the stage. A man stands to the left playing guitar.
Solal Mariotte (right) in Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s EXIT ABOVE — after the tempest. Photo by Anne Van Aerschot, courtesy Rosas.

In EXIT ABOVE — after the tempest, Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s typically minimalistic world suddenly seemed looser and brighter. The reason? A new generation of dancers, led by French newcomer Solal Mariotte, who got his start in hip hop. The curly-haired 22-year-old acted as a mercurial leader, shifting easily from floor work to the air, launching himself into arresting dives to the floor.

At 18, looking for a challenge, Mariotte applied to P.A.R.T.S., the school founded by De Keersmaeker in Brussels, where he immersed himself in contemporary dance while co-founding a breaking crew, Above The Blood, on the side. In addition to joining Rosas in 2023, he is also developing projects with his crew and as a choreographer. In January, a new version of his solo Collages/Ravages will premiere at the prestigious Suresnes Cités Danse festival in France. With his influences now cross-pollinating­ in captivating ways, a shape-shifting career beckons.

—Laura Cappelle

Kamala Saara

Dancer, Dance Theatre of Harlem

Midway through William Forsythe’s Blake Works IV last April, Kamala Saara transfixed the audience in a soulful, introspective solo. She stretched her long limbs expansively, pulling every inch out of them before retracting dynamically into the next phrase. She seemed to be lost in a dream, her arms sweeping through an unseen atmospheric viscosity. And while the solo is deeply internal, Saara invited the audience at Dance Theatre of Harlem’s New York City Center season into her world. 

Kamala Saara is lifted a few inches off the floor by the waist, legs in coupé back. One arm twists across her waist, the other in high fifth. Her dark hair curls around her face as she turns her head toward her partner. She wears a teal leotard and a flowing pastel, pink skirt, no tights, and pointe shoes painted to match her complexion.
Kamala Saara with fellow Dance Theatre of Harlem artist Kouadio Davis. Photo by Theik Smith, courtesy DTH.

Saara, 21, grew up studying at the Yuri Grigoriev School of Ballet in Los Angeles, spent two summers at the Bolshoi Ballet Intensive in New York City, and at 16 was invited to Moscow to perform at the Bolshoi Ballet Academy’s annual gala. She moved to New York in 2019, training first with Andrei Vassiliev before entering the School of American Ballet. SAB’s focus on speed and lightness, she says, made her more versatile.

Meanwhile, then-DTH artistic director Virginia Johnson had had her eye on Saara since Chyrstyn Fentroy invited her to take company class at age 15. Saara joined DTH in 2020, shining in Stanton Welch’s Orange and Balanchine’s Allegro Brillante. This season, she takes on the principal role in Balanchine’s Raymonda-inspired Pas de Dix, adding a glamorous ballerina part to her repertoire. 

—Amy Brandt

Water Street Dance Milwaukee 

Contemporary dance company

Six dancers lunge out of a square of light, each raising a splayed hand as though catching something from the air. Visual representation of a soundwave is projected on the back wall. They are costumed in black tank tops and wide legged pants slit up to the mid-thigh.
Water Street Dance Milwaukee in Morgan Williams’ Imagery Portrayed. Photo by Tyler Burgess, courtesy Water Street Dance Milwaukee.

In Milwaukee, ballet is king. But funders, dancers, presenters, and audiences are all sitting up and taking notice of Water Street Dance Milwaukee, giving the city the top-shelf contemporary company it deserves. The company, which rehearses in a suburban Milwaukee enclave, launched just as the pandemic hit, but still managed to build a roster of impeccable dancers, create a dance festival, and form pre-professional programs. The city’s dance community is mobilizing around Water Street’s momentum as the company produces new festivals, outdoor pop-up performances, and shared auditions. It performs all over the Midwest, but directo­r Morgan Williams’ goal is to take Water Street international. He sprinkles up-and-coming choreographers, like Kameron­ N. Saunders, Madison Hicks, Braeden Barnes, and Leandro Glory Damasco, Jr., into the rep alongside his own choreography. At just 33, he is a savvy director and choreographer with support from some of the region’s sharpest dance leaders and a long runway ahead.

—Lauren Warnecke

 

Header collage photo credits, left to right, top to bottom: Ryoko Konami, courtesy Naomi Funaki; Michelle Reid, courtesy Kia Smith; Todd Rosenberg, courtesy Giordano Dance Chicago; Laura Irion, courtesy Karla Puno Garcia; Rosalie O’Connor, courtesy American Ballet Theatre; Angela Sterling, courtesy Pacific Northwest Ballet; Kat Stiennon, courtesy Water Street Dance Milwaukee; Erin Baiano, courtesy New York City Ballet; Jay Spencer, courtesy Miguel Alejandro Castillo; Isabella Herrera, courtesy Kaitlyn Sardin; Julien Benhamou, courtesy Paris Opéra Ballet; Nir Arieli, courtesy Dance Theatre of Harlem; Steven Pisano, courtesy A.I.M by Kyle Abraham; Lawrence Elizabeth Knox, courtesy Houston Ballet; Alex Harmon/Red Bull Content Pool, courtesy Sean Lew; Robbie Sweeny, courtesy Clarissa Rivera Dyas; Anne Van Aerschot, courtesy Rosas; Bailey Bailey, courtesy Laila J. Franklin; C-Unit Studio, courtesy Pauline Casiño; Anita Buzzy Prentiss, courtesy Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre; Nicole Mitchell Photography, courtesy Danielle Swatzie; Gabriel Asensio, courtesy Rafael Ramírez; Camille Augustyniak, courtesy Lucy Fandel; Arian Molina Soca, courtesy Philadelphia Ballet; Travis Coe, courtesy Sydnie L. Mosley.



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‘Priscilla,’ Olivia Rodrigo and the Year of Girlhood and Longing

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Rodrigo realizes that, in its first throes, “Love Is Embarrassing.” (It is.) On that throbbing track, she admits the hold “some weird second-string loser” has on her. On another, “Get Him Back,” she jokingly lays out a conflicted revenge plot as the bridge drops to a whisper: “I wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut,” she confesses. “I wanna meet his mom — just to tell her her son sucks.” She’s cataloging her humiliations, but she’s laughing at them, too.

She refuses to wallow for long, and I’m convinced this is partly what gives the album its buoyancy. (It’s an approach that, in hindsight, would have given me more relief than the semester I spent writing love-stricken poetry on tiny notecards at my university’s performing arts library after a brutal breakup.)

Girlhood, strictly marked in years, comes to a close in the waning years of adolescence. But for some, I think this period calls for a less tidy metric, one that makes room for a soft transition into late girlhood, or adolescence — with all of its intensifying feeling — and then post-girlhood, with its own round of heartbreaks. Lauryn Hill was 23 in 1998 when she released a relationship album for the ages. “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,” multiplatinum and Grammy-winning, tracked her recovery from a series of rumored breaks: with her hip-hop trio, the Fugees, and one of her bandmates, Wyclef Jean, with whom she was said to have shared a stormy romance. For a generation of us, it was as if she’d found our own love letters and read each one out loud.

This fall, reunited with her bandmates, the girl from South Orange, N.J., returned to the stage to breathe new life into that indelible collection. On opening night of a short-lived tour, I watched from the Prudential Center in nearby Newark as Hill wailed the exasperated plea from “Ex-Factor”: “No matter how I think we grow, you always seem to let me know it ain’t working.” It had been 25 years since Hill’s “Miseducation”; a quarter-century for perspective, love and motherhood to right-size once outsize feelings. She sang the words she’d written all those years ago, but this time her voice was tinged with unmistakable joy.

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💫Here Is The New Year’s Day Concert From Vienna 2024 💫

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Photo : Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

On 1 January 2024, ORF will broadcast the traditional New Year’s Day Concert by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra from the Großer Musikvereinssaal in Vienna for the 66th time. The major musical event, which always welcomes in the New Year with a cheerful and contemplative programme of works by the Strauss dynasty and their contemporaries, is now broadcast in around 100 countries worldwide.

New Year's Day Concert
Photo : Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

For the second time since 2019, the German Christian Thielemann will once again conduct the New Year’s Concert. Since their first collaboration in 2000, he has been one of those Philharmoniker conductors who are particularly close to the orchestra. The Philharmonic Board was particularly keen to ring in the ‘Bruckner Year’ with Thielemann to mark the Upper Austrian composer’s 200th birthday. After all, Thielemann and the Philharmoniker have recorded a complete cycle of eleven Bruckner symphonies together for the first time in the orchestra’s recording history, which was released in October 2023. For the first time, the New Year’s Concert will therefore also feature a composition by Anton Bruckner (arrangement: Wolfgang Dörner), the Quadrille WAB 121, in addition to the usual Straussian waltz bliss. Bruckner will also dominate the concert interval, which will be presented by ORF with a film by Felix Breisach that traces the composer’s life between Ansfelden, Linz and Vienna with the participation of two smart choirboys from St. Florian Abbey.

New Year's Day Concert
Photo : Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

The two embark on a great journey of discovery, travelling through the most beautiful Upper Austrian landscapes by balloon, exploring Anton Bruckner’s birthplace Ansfelden, wandering through Bad Ischl, the Linz Ars Electronica and Bruckner’s Viennese place of work, the Musikverein. And, they admire and support several philharmonic ensembles that interpret various arrangements of Bruckner’s works at iconic locations. Back in St Florian, the choirboys will perform their secret anthem, the famous chorus Locus iste, where Bruckner is buried under the great organ.

New Year's Day Concert
Photo : Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

For the New Year’s Concert, Christian Thielemann and the Philharmonic Orchestra have selected nine pieces that have never been performed in this setting before. These include the “Archduke Albrecht March” by Karl Komzák, the “Figaro Polka” by Johann Strauss, Son, the polka “Die Hochquelle” by Eduard Strauss and the New Year’s gallop “Glædeligt Nytaar!” by Danish composer Hans Christian Lumbye.

Vienna State Ballet featured in New Year’s Day Concert

Once again, the ballet in the concert programme will be presented in places where dance has never been performed before: Bad Ischl and the Emperor’s Villa allude to the forthcoming “European Capital of Culture Bad Ischl Salzkammergut” with the “Ischler Walzer” by Johann Strauss, son; the Renaissance Rosenburg in the northern Waldviertel, built on medieval foundations, is the imposing setting for the second waltz danced, the “Wiener Bürger” by Carl Michael Ziehrer.

Italian choreographer Davide Bombana, who last worked on the New Year’s Ballet in 2018, created the two charming dance interludes with soloists from the Vienna State Ballet, including Ketevan Papava and Eno Peci, Olga Esina, Hyo-Jung Kang, Ioanna Avraam, Elena Bottaro, Brendan Saye, Masayu Kimoto, Giorgio Fourés and Zsolt Török.

New Year's Day Concert
Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

The extraordinary and very precious ballet costumes were designed for the first time by the Austrian Susanne Bisovsky. The fashion designer, who was born in Linz and lives in Vienna, studied under Vivienne Westwood and worked with J.Ch. de Castelbajac and Helmut Lang. Susanne Bisovsky’s world of clothing, which she develops together with her partner Joseph Bonwit Gerger, unfolds primarily under the name “Viennese Chic”. This draws on the historical, borrows from traditional costume and folklore with typical floral designs and draws inspiration from all over the world with elegant panache.

New Year's Day Concert
Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

Michael Beyer is the director responsible for the ballet interludes pre-produced in August 2023 and will also lead the television team with 15 cameras during the broadcast on 1 January. The live commentary of the concert will once again be provided by cultural presenter Teresa Vogl.

New Year's Day Concert
Copyright: ORF/Thomas Jantzen

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Matthew Paluch mulls on dancers’ social media use – is Insta becoming a chore?

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Matthew Paluch mulls on dancers’ social media use – is Insta becoming a chore?

Isabella Boylston and Jovani Furlan from Instagram

If you use social media and love dance it’s very likely you follow your favourite artists on a number of different online platforms. I’m Gen X, so I use social media, but probably in a more diluted way compared to those younger than me (no TikTok here). Instagram is my weakness, but of late it’s become more chore than pleasure. Why? Because a lot of accounts seem to have gone down the ‘commercial route for personal gain’ direction rather than producing themed content for their adoring bunhead fans, who get more from intimate studio and live performance material than anything else.

Therefore I find myself musing over the role social media now plays within the dance world – specifically ballet – and how it’s potentially influencing the way dancers present themselves and are consequently perceived. Once, dancers were recognised purely on the merit of their performances as audience members didn’t have access to anything else. Yet 2023 couldn’t be more different, with attainable insights now ranging from pet snuggles to the brandishing of luxury leather goods (#ad).

Instagram has been around for 13 years, and of course advertising for much longer, even in relation to dance. Margot Fonteyn, arguably one of the most famous – if not the most famous – dancers of all time, was often pictured in Dior and Yves Saint Laurent mid-20th century. I don’t pretend to know the inner workings of these relationships, but I’d presume it was along the lines of ‘you scratch my back and I’ll bedeck yours with haute couture’.

And who will ever forget the iconic image of Sylvie Guillem for Rolex circa 1993, smiling and zipping her infamous extension up to almost ear level with the tagline: “They call this position six o’clock. Sylvie Guillem’s Rolex calls it five fifty-eight and seventeen seconds precisely.” Considering Guillem’s campaign happened 30 years ago, one would have come across it sporadically in glossy magazines and maybe the odd billboard. It’s a very different situation exposure-wise in the current social media, self-branding world we live in.

So it’s somehow inevitable that conversations concerning appropriateness and balance are taking place – well they are in my circles anyway. But who or what is the point of reference in all of this? When does topical presence become saturation? What qualifies as one too many collaborations being endlessly plugged on Insta? And does everyone still find the time to be a committed, focused artist?

I don’t mean to sound like a party-pooper, as most of my adult life has been spent championing for the agency I feel dancers deserve. But more often than not I currently groan when opening Instagram and witnessing the content, as there seems to be far less dance footage and artist journey posts, and way more ‘check out this loot I’m pushing for freebies’ endorsements. Kardashianism (as in Kim et al) has left Los Angeles and arrived in Opera Houses the world over it seems.

None of this can make discussions behind closed doors easy. Dancers, no matter how famous, are generally contracted. So does the employer have the final call when a decision needs to be made about plugging a specific product or sanctioning an ongoing commercial relationship? And dancers with large public followings tend to have managers, so that’s another level of business diplomacy that needs to be considered. IMHO it’s all gone a bit cray-cray in the last 12 months, and the balance is evidently skewed way more in one direction.

Here are some Instagram followers numbers for context. I’ve included six companies and their highest profile members (online), and Kardashian for added comprehension:

Kim Kardashian 364m

American Ballet Theatre
Isabella Boylston 698k
James B. Whiteside 429k

New York City Ballet
Tiler Peck 469k
Jovani Furlan 154k

Mariinsky Ballet
Maria Khoreva 649k

Royal Ballet
Marianela Núñez 589k
Steven McRae 232k

Paris Opera
Dorothée Gilbert 136k
Hugo Marchand 132k

La Scala Ballet
Roberto Bolle 858k
Nicoletta Manni 154k

It’s important to note that individuals have different approaches to how they make use of their celebrity status. Some of course include aspects of mindfulness and dance education, others less so. And I’m not proposing what’s considered the appropriate equilibrium, but I’m also aware of people in important positions concerned over ‘tone deaf’ output. Being in Vogue is one thing – a form of infomercial in a very recognisable building is quite another.

So here’s to a more aware 2024. Isn’t that what we’re all working towards anyway? Social media isn’t going anywhere, and personally I’m fine with that (thank you Mark Zuckerberg for giving New York City Ballet the tools for ‘Flash Footage’) but hopefully the short term future will be full of important, potentially difficult conversations which will manifest in more proportional content output, without removing anyone’s freedom of expression. Most things tend to come down to self-awareness – just ask Kris Jenner.

Matthew Paluch mulls on dancers’ social media use – is Insta becoming a chore?



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Mapping the Lesser-Known Territories of American Modern Dance

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The creation of American modern dance, in the first half of the 20th century, was akin to the development of jazz or the Broadway musical, all potent new forms of expression for a country on the rise. Its history has often been framed as a simple genealogy of mavericks and rebels — almost all white — big personalities who commanded a lot of attention: Isadora Duncan and Ruth St. Denis and Ted Shawn begat Martha Graham and Doris Humphrey who begat Paul Taylor, Merce Cunningham and José Limón. “Border Crossings: Exile and American Modern Dance 1900-1955,” an exhibition at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts through March 16, tells quite a different story.

It begins with Matachines, a dance-drama that has been performed by both Pueblo Indian and Hispanic people in the American Southwest for hundreds of years. The next section is about jazz modernism: how Black artists developed new aesthetic possibilities for dance at the start of the 20th century.

“We wanted to see what happens if you start somewhere else,” the art historian E. Bruce Robertson said in a joint interview with his co-curator, the dance scholar Ninotchka Bennahum.

“We’re not saying that Martha Graham and Ruth St. Denis aren’t important,” said Linda Murray, the curator of the library’s Jerome Robbins Dance Division. “But if you move those people out of the center, what are the other voices that move in?”

There are many candidates. “Border Crossings” highlights dozens of dance artists through photographs, costumes and other artifacts, along with more than nine hours of film footage. Mexico assumes new importance, as do Asian immigrants. Dancers respond to two world wars, the rise of fascism, persistent racism and the inequities of capitalism.

In its study of the effects of exile, the show looks not only at migrations between countries, caused by war and political turmoil, but also at migrations internal to the United States, caused by racism. The show’s definition of modern dance stretches enough to include a section on Black dancers in classical ballet, and the final galleries zero in on influential Black dance artists of the 20th century, like Katherine Dunham and Janet Collins. The exhibition finds room as well for contemporary artists of color to weigh in on the meanings of crossing borders, literal and metaphorical.

This all adds up to a show that Robertson admits is overstuffed. But, he said, it is “a template for something much larger, a map of the territory.” He and Bennahum emphasized how much they had to leave out and how much they could not find because of what Bennahum called “archival silencing,” the unequal representation of artists of color in the historical record.

In recent years, many scholars have been working to correct that imbalance. This exhibition surveys that work, which is rarely collected in such wide-ranging form. Students of dance history might encounter some figures for the first time, but also see artists together — in the same photograph — that older categorical thinking might have kept separate: like the Indian dancer Uday Shankar and the flamenco star Vicente Escudero looking chic while shaking hands in 1930s Paris. Both dancers were modernists; both influenced American dance.

For the exhibition’s lead image, the curators chose Dunham. Trained in anthropology at the University of Chicago, Dunham drew on her fieldwork in the Caribbean and the American South to develop an Africanist technique, a popular company and an influential school.

In the photo, she leaps outdoors in Italy. “That image displaces all those images of Isadora Duncan frolicking in the ocean,” Robertson said, calling Dunham’s the show’s “pivot point.”

“We were so blown away by the sense of freedom in the image,” Bennahum added. “But we don’t even know who the photographer was. There’s so much about these figures that is unknown.”

“It’s about putting dance at the center of the study of modernism,” Robertson said. “The basic point the show makes it that trauma defines modernism, and trauma is embodied and expressed through the body. That is why we feel that dance is probably the art form that most fully expresses the traumas of the 20th century.”

“It’s a dancer’s show,” Bennahum said. “In a sense, any of the figures we included can stand in for the rest, not because they all had the same experience of exile, but because every one of them really defined dance modernism in their own unique way.”

In that spirit, here are three images to stand for the many.

Born in Japan in 1897, in the 16th generation of a samurai family, Yeichi Nimura moved to the United States in 1920. After studying at Denishawn, the school established by Ted Shawn and Ruth St. Denis in Los Angeles, he toured his own work, often based in Japanese traditions, and established an important studio in Carnegie Hall. John Martin, in The New York Times, credited Nimura with “the ability to command attention every moment.” Along with Michio Ito, a Japanese-born dancer who found success in New York and Los Angeles, Nimura is among the Asian artists sometimes left out of histories of modern dance. The internment or deportation of some artists of Japanese descent during the Second World War is another thread of the exhibition.

In this photo, he is rehearsing for the Long Island Pageant in 1930, doing his Japanese sword dance over an automobile. “That says everything about the collision of tradition and modernity,” Robertson said.

Born in Philadelphia in 1935, Delores Browne studied ballet at the Judimar School, led by the pioneering Black dance educator Marion Cujyet. In 1953, Browne was accepted into the School of American Ballet, but she was not invited to join its affiliated company, New York City Ballet. Instead, she joined Ballet Americana, later called the New York Negro Ballet, touring Britain. When that company’s backer died, forcing it to fold, she could not find work; almost no one was hiring Black ballerinas. She still took classes with top white ballet dancers, and when one of them asked her, “Who are you with now?” the question led her to quit dancing.

One of her Judimar colleagues, John Jones, coaxed her back a few years later for some independent recitals, and she began working with Black modern dance choreographers, including Alvin Ailey, Talley Beatty and Geoffrey Holder. She became a respected teacher, especially at the Ailey school. But she never had the career as a ballerina that her talent and skill would seem to have promised. (She died on Oct. 2.)

This publicity photo from the 1950s captures Browne’s grace and lightness. “It’s one thing to say ‘a thousand soldiers died on that hill,’ but it’s another thing to look at this photo and see how this particular career was cut short,” Bennahum said.

When Edna Guy, born in New Jersey in 1907, was 15, she saw a performance by Ruth St. Denis and discovered what she wanted to do. St. Denis, a white woman also from New Jersey, made art by imagining herself into cultures other than her own: Egyptian, Indian. Guy wrote St. Denis a fan note and many letters. In one, she said: “I shall be the first colored girl to make the world see that a little Negro girl, an American, can do beautiful and creative dances.” St. Denis allowed Guy to train at the Denishawn school but not to dance with the company, hiring her instead as a seamstress and personal assistant.

In the early 1930s, Guy connected with the short-lived Black choreographer Hemsley Winfield, who created the New Negro Art Theater Dance Group in 1931, one of the first Black concert dance companies. Guy performed as a guest with that troupe and on her own, doing both Orientalist pieces in the St. Denis manner and African inspired work. In 1937, she helped organize “A Negro Dance Evening” at the 92nd Street Y, which included the New York debut of Katherine Dunham.

This image, by the Japanese American photographer Soichi Sunami, captures Guy in costume for “A Figure From Angkor Wat,” one of St. Denis’s fantasies of Cambodian dance. Guy performed this during a pathbreaking recital she directed with Winfield in 1931. The exhibition’s wall text describes Guy’s performance in it as “double role playing: first as a white modern dancer, and then as a Cambodian priestess.”

“It speaks to the complexity of artists of color moving into white spaces of appropriation,” Bennahum said. “It’s a way to take back their power, commenting on the space through their body.”



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