I gripe. I gripe and gripe and gripe. I gripe because thing’s are unfair cause we’re in the arts, cause we’re female, cause we’re underfunded, cause we’re pushed around, cause we’re powerless and cause I’m sick to death of that twinkle in the eye when guys ask me what kind

of dance I do. Grrrrrr!

So, what is being done?

The DTRC, that’s what. Karen Kain was founding president of the Dancer’s in Transition Resource Centre. It was started to help dancers “transition” to another career after retiring at 35. They now also help dancers at any level in their career, with anything to subsidized health care to skills training and scholarships. It’s a good thing people.

Although it’s hard, sometimes, to feel like a dancer at all in Vancouver. Here there are so few dance jobs and contracts rarely last more than two or three months. It feels like we’re all semi-retired already, and the traumatic transition occurred after graduation. Something’s got to give. Truly, I will stop griping when there’s nothing left to gripe about.

I’d go and run off with the circus, but I can’t even audition unless I’m over 5’4″! (That’s a whole other ism)

Next post, I might just go join Facebook (those who know me will understand this is a BIG DEAL), to see what the “Defeated and Unmotivated Dancers Support Group” is up to. I hear they’ve got 49 members, so far.

Read this great Maissoneuve interview, from 2006, where Karen talks about the dance boom, and bust.

Looking around in dance class it’s deceiving, most people are women. If there are men, they are few, and often one of them is the teacher.

It’s a telling sign.

For a population that is overwhelmingly female, the dance world is as patriarchal as it comes. Men, in a kind of reverse glass ceiling, enter the game late (they face less ridicule when they reach adulthood) and are coveted in a way that makes me sting with injustice. Since men are so rare their presence is yearned for, male-only auditions are common, and male dancers with far less training or skill are hired alongside women who are at the top of their game.

Imagine that in the boardroom: “We NEED more women. It’s not a reflection of life without women. We’ll have to have women-only interviews. If we promote them to executive positions immediately then maybe we’ll be lucky enough for them to stay with us. Put them on track to become CEO.”

In dance this is not affirmative action, it’s normal practice.

Men do become the CEO’s in dance, meaning that the few men that are in dance are practically guaranteed to get a job, and if they work hard and keep at it they are likely to become prominent teachers, choreographers and artistic directors.

Far be it for me to say that successful male dancers aren’t any good, no, they are deserving and terrifically skilled. It’s just that they achieve positions of power much more quickly and easily than female dancers. Women are consistently left out.

Keeping things simple, lets look at the director of ballet companies since they are the biggest and most known in Canada. Crossing the country:

• Ballet BC has John Alleyne
• The Alberta Ballet has Jean Grand-Maître
• The Royal Winnipeg Ballet has André Lewis
• Les Grands Ballets Canadiens has Gradimir Pankov
• While the National Ballet of Canada, until recently had James Kudelka, and now only Karen Kain has ended a series of male directors.*

Like most things patriarchal, there is no one person to blame. It’s a systemic problem with a deep history and strong influence. You just have to see a recent report on movies that shows of 15,000 characters in films across ratings men outnumber women 3 to 1.

Can’t we just have a female-dominated art form and be okay with that? No art form seems to be worried about being male-dominated.

So I’m reduced to listening to what G.I. Joe used to tell us kids: “knowing is half the battle.” That’s about as much hope as I can muster at present, and from a patriarchal icon no less.

Go forth and change the world please people, because I’m currently tired of fighting an enemy that I can’t even touch.

*Let me explain, since nothing is so simple. Women tended to found these companies, such as Celia Franca and the National in 1951. She was followed by four men, with a two year stint of a co-artistic team of two women who replaced Erik Bruhn only as an emergency when he was stricken with AIDS — and they were administrators, not dancers. Karen Kain made the jump, but c’mon, did you have to be Canada’s most famous dancer and the National’s most loyal member to deserve the job?

For all my lauding of the CADA contract, it actually holds little weight since no one is obliged to use it. Separate contracts are drafted, disregarding CADA standards. But it doesn’t seem to matter what contract you sign. Even as dancers lay down their signatures, the choreographer says, “This may change.” Ahem, does that not defeat the very purpose of having a contract?

Choreographers hold authority and no matter how much they want to be down-to-earth and friendish, it’s a power relationship. The dancers are the employees in a job where you can’t complain because you’ll compromise capital “A” Art for God’s sake.

Choreographer: “Hey guys, is it okay if we run through the piece tonight after notes?”

Translation: “We will run through the piece tonight again after 45 minutes of notes. It will take longer than I anticipate.”

Dancer: “Um, okay.”

Translation: “My feet are bleeding and I’ve got bronchitis and don’t we have a 9am rehearsal tomorrow?”

If you’ve got a problem with something, you become the problem.

CADA’s been the only authority dancers really have, and it’s really too bad if that’s not worth anything.

I love CADA, but they are small (the BC Chapter is run by one person), new (contract was drafted in 2001), and trying to represent the rights of the most maligned, underpaid and female-dominated art in Canada. Good luck.

Cue Actor’s Equity.

As of today, Feb. 5th, the Canadian Actor’s Equity Association has extended its arms to dancers through the brand new, Canadian Dance Policy. This means that dancers can join Actor’s Equity – the actor’s union – and receive the protection of that established organization.

Compare this new contract to the CADA contract, you’ll see that in essentials, they are the same. I can only hope that:

a) the two-tiered equity/non-equity situation of the acting world isn’t so bad

b) that there is enough incentive to become a member

c) union dues aren’t too high

and most importantly:

d) that this will actually become an effective tool in protecting and empowering dancers, not just another contract to casually skirt

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p.s. Here’s a Teamster who’s familiar with hurry up and wait.

Tales from the war zone: My Top Ten reasons not to teach children dance at Community Centres.

1. Mental Illness. Almost every parent puts their two-year old in dance classes, so these classes are always full. However, two-year olds can only walk, run, march and gallop. They can’t skip. Also they learn from repetition. Walk, run, march, gallop, repeat, repeat, repeat.
2. Disease. Children are petri dishes of all existing strains of the common cold. They can sneeze an amount of snot that matches the volume of their proportionately large heads, and you need to clean that up. You, like them, always be sick.
3. Pee. Little children will pee on the floor. And other children will, despite valiant herding attempts, promptly stumble into the puddle.
4. Pink Tutus. I’ve never seen a behavioural difference between girls and boys in classes. But once boys hit four, they start to realize that dance is, for some reason, for girls. I blame the tutu. The useless, inappropriate and unstoppable tutu.
5. Occupational Hazards. Teaching on cement floors. (See my previous post). Play equipment, escape hatches, floors that have the dirt from the senior Chinese ballroom dancers shoes on them. (These seniors have also been known to thrust children out of the way as they push, chairs first, into the room.)
6. Restraining Orders. Parents and grandparents are unreasonable. Some think you should be preparing their two-year old for the Kirov. Others scream at you when you say parent-participation doesn’t include their entire family of ten.
7. Mental Illness part II. Kid’s music, see #1.
8. Tantrums. Best to place screaming child at the side of the room and ignore it.
9. Blood. As one parent consoled me once “kids bleed like stuffed stuck pigs.” One kid fell on her face and split her lip so badly, that she left a trail of blood on the floor and a bloody hand print on her mother’s back as the mom ran for the bathroom, clutching the child.
10. Depression. Knowing, after training your whole life as a dancer, that you are now marching, galloping and – if you’re lucky – skipping, for a living.

+ Making a difference. The trump card of dance teaching: children will love you, some parents will appreciate you and some community centres will pay you well. If you find this, it will keep you going a bit longer. Otherwise, if you are willing to go full-time, inflexible and for the long-haul, apply at a studio. Although then you can add politics to the list.

P.S. As trained dancers, we are mostly not trained to teach. I wanted to mention this, but it’s the subject of a whole other post.

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Feb. 8, 2008:  Thanks to Catherine for pointing out that it’s actually a stuck pig.   I obviously don’t understand the metaphor.  That’s a true story by the way.  Also, Catherine (see her comment below), does win.  She taught me to teach preschool (and beyond) and has been teaching for over ten years.  And yes, the work has infinite importance, but unless its teachers are supported, none but the truly masochistic will make it a life’s work.

exercises.

Guess I’m not alone.

Lack of compensation for being unable to dance, plus the ethos of perfection (AKA self-punishment) contribute to this lack of respect for our bodies. Funny, since our bodies are all we’ve got.

Although we tend to wait until we can’t walk before seeking professional help, dancers certainly have come up with ingenious ways to prevent and treat their injuries. Here are my TOP FIVE:

1. Cellophane. Alright, so this was in the 1970s, and now all anyone treats with it are animal wounds, but in the 70s cellophane was the new best thing to keep muscles warm. Wrap up that sore muscle with cellophane and feel the heat and sweat build – tasty! This one, needless to say, didn’t last.
2. Red flower oil. Move over deep cold, forget tiger balm, in Vancouver red flower oil is the thing. When greeting a dancer you’ll notice a pungent cinnamon smell rising from their sore neck/back/entire body. The influence of Chinese medicine has popularized this one: it’s a soothing hot-cold (or cold-hot, depending on your perspective). See also white flower oil.
3. Shmata. According to those who swear by them, a shmata is a piece of clothing, often cut from the bottom half of a sweater, that is worn around the hips to keep them warm. Think saggy mini skirt over pants. Dancers, unlike Jennifer Beals, aren’t that fashionable and definitely not that naked. This ain’t no hot yoga.
4. RICE: Rest Immobilization Compression and Elevation. It’s kind of like a mantra. Except everyone always get the “I” wrong. According to chiropractor Dr. Robert Cannon, it does NOT stand for ice. Although ice is probably a dancers best friend, so…
5. Ice. Every physio therapist has told me: on for 10-15 minutes and off for the same (alternate with heat only if there is no swelling). Gel packs are nicest and you can make your own: one part rubbing alcohol to three parts water in a strong freezer-weight (try doubled) ziplock bag. Ooh la la, DIY ballerina!

Despite these tricks of the trade, there is no substitute for taking the time off (doing your exercises) and letting the injury heal before you dance again.

Finding a way to make this possible without the revenue loss, depression or frustration is the hardest part.

Desperate for a job, you are willing to overlook safety concerns to get one. Don’t bring it up since so many others are just waiting to replace you. It’s like dancers are still stuck in the Great Depression.

Conditions are forgiven since the choreographer has so little money or so much vision. Hey, you’re lucky if you’re getting paid.

But this isn’t what real life is supposed to look like, not according to the rules under CADA BC (Canadian Alliance of Dance Artists, British Columbia). This contract is only from 2001 – so young is the fight for professional standards.

Here are the top three conditions of the Health and Safety part of the contract:

1. The rehearsal and performance floor is not a pock-marked cement floor, but sprung, smooth wood. Not a cement floor. Not a cement floor covered by battleship linoleum. Not wood right on cement. Not “it’s-only-for-performance-nights” cement. Not a cement floor that is painted glossy red to make it look like it’s not cement.
2. This non-cement floor should have a surface temperature between 10 and 35 degrees Celsius.
3. Air temperature should be between 18 and 35 degrees Celsius. Not long johns, sweaters and so many socks and legwarmers you look like a mummified hipster.

These are the rules. And we’ve got to fight for them, if we want to be able to use our body for the next project, and the next, and when we go for a walk when we’re eighty.

FYI, regarding my last post: to be considered an apprentice by CADA standards you must have graduated LESS than two years from a professional training program. That means the “eternal” apprentice is actually against the rules! Most significantly, however, this means that apprentices SHOULD BE SIGNING THIS CONTRACT TOO, whaddya know!

Except in dance.

Within the grossly underpaid fine arts, only theatre comes close to the lack of pay for dance. There are so few dance jobs out there that dancers should be grateful to be dancing – and pay? What a bonus!

It’s a funding issue, surely, and most choreographers want to be able to pay their dancers. But they can tiptoe past the tricky issue of wages by taking on an apprentice.

Special grants have been created to support these emerging artists and so project with apprentices gets funded. But the apprentices work for free, often rehearsing and performing alongside paid professionals.

It’s supposed to be a leg-up. It becomes a problem when the jump to getting paid never happens. (Or a jump from inadequate pay – think honorarium, or in-kind pay, or at most a small grant you apply for on your own.)

Your dance career starts to look like a never-ending series of apprenticeships.

I have been an apprentice twice, along with almost all the dancers I know, including a friend who is nearing two years as an apprentice.

What’s that saying…three-times an apprentice, never a dancer?

This category, along with the sticky term emerging, was intended to help new dancers.

I know dancers who have been performing and creating exciting work for years and are still considered emerging, whereas if they were visual art stars they’d be having a retrospective.

These terms have become the shackles of the new generation who can never make the leap to professionals, languishing in the poverty of Canadian dance funding.

Dance is hard, punishing work. The position of authority and desperation in the choreographer-dancer relationship makes this whole free labour thing smack of exploitation.

(From Disney’s Fantasia)

Meetings are held. The words “parallel career” are thrown at you.

They tell you stories about the dancer who was also a doctor – he would run out of class when his pager called him in for an emergency. There was that girl who made brownies and made a lucrative cottage business. Or the dancer who started a successful dance clothes company.

These ridiculous examples were to be the elements of our survival.

Now how do you get the skills for this parallel career in a program where you have no time, really, to do anything outside dancing, eating and sleeping? Never mind becoming a doctor.

Dance jobs don’t pay, so in the real world you teach or wait tables. But you’ll be lucky to have enough time to make it to morning class. And if you don’t take class, are you a dancer any more?

As for grants (where all the dance money comes from), to be eligible:

• The BC Arts Council requires at least three post-school years of professional experience
• The Canada Council requires “that recent graduates…develop a professional portfolio prior to applying.”

…And only then are you even considered “emerging”.

It’s even harder for a choreographer. To be eligible:

• BC Arts requires two professionally produced works
• Canada Council requires three

…Which means you had to pay your dancers, somehow.

Better start making brownies.

However, some people are trying to fill the gap. Moving Space and Time points out that on Feb 8-9 the On The Move conference (aimed at new graduates) is taking place. I attended it in its first year, 2004, and it looks like it’s been getting better every year.