Danceletter 16

I’m not going to pretend that this week hasn’t been tough. I’ve been anxious and unfocused (which, ok, I sort of always am, but this is more extreme than usual). Yesterday I took the day off from Twitter, a good idea. Today I tried to let myself do nothing, freeing myself even from writing this newsletter. But after some time in the sun this afternoon (thank you, front stoop), I started to feel more energized.

I realize that my situation is about as good as it could be, under the circumstances. I’m still working. I like where I live and who I live with (my boyfriend, who is as calm and proactive under pressure as I am anxious and sullen). My family and I are healthy (at least for now). I have loving, supportive friends and colleagues. I have a therapist! I even have health insurance that covers much of the cost of therapy (a small miracle).

I guess I’m just sharing where I’m at, very honestly, to reassure you that if you, too, are feeling this way, even if you have everything materially that you need, you’re not alone. I know that for me, this reminder can sometimes help.

As I mentioned over on Instagram, my longest spell of contentment this week was by far the 75 minutes I spent teaching my first Zoom class, to 26 students now scattered around the country and the world. This week I lectured on Irish dance and Riverdance (a familiar topic that, in case you missed it, I recently wrote about here). My class, Dance in New York City, is structured around attending performances, and Riverdance was the last show we saw live, on March 10 and 11 at Radio City (which, by the end of that week, had shut down). I felt conflicted about allowing my students (and myself) to go, but many of them expressed how happy they were to have caught one last show in New York before dispersing. (Most are seniors, so depending on where they’re heading post-graduation, Riverdance might have been their last NYC hurrah for a while.)

When I learned I would have to move my course online, and replace live experiences with digital ones, I was sort of overwhelmed by the possibilities, so I narrowed my search to high-quality videos of full-length performances. Here are a few finds, which I hope might be helpful to other educators, or anyone in need of a dance fix:

OntheBoards.tv: This contemporary performance library, which works closely with artists to document their work (and compensate them for it), is offering free access through April. Where to begin? I’m still exploring all the titles, but a few that I can vouch for (having seen them live) are Tere O’Connor’s Bleed, Okwui Okpokwasili’s Bronx Gothic, and Beth Gill’s Electric Midwife. Especially if you’re new to these artists (or if you’re teaching about them), the site’s Shifting Contexts section is really helpful.

Chocolate Factory Theater archive: The Chocolate Factory’s archive of performances, on Vimeo, has always been free. What better time to dive in? A few of my personal favorite entries are Mariana Valencia’s BOUQUET, Milka Djordjevich’s ANTHEM, and Jimena Paz’s YELLOW. Most works in the archive also come with a “context video” (again, good for teaching or just personal edification).

Night of 100 Solos: Via the Merce Cunningham Trust’s Vimeo page, you can now watch last year’s monumental celebration of Cunningham’s 100th birthday, as performed in New York, London, and Los Angeles. (Fond memories of crowding into BAM for this one. Remember crowds?)

Marquee.tv: If you’re in the mood for ballet or classical modern (e.g. Paul Taylor, Mark Morris), this is the place for you. With Marquee TV’s 30-day free trial, you can watch recorded performances of the Royal Ballet, Alonzo King LINES Ballet, New York City Ballet, and much more.

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater: Starting Monday, March 30, at 7p.m. (EDT), the Ailey company will be streaming works from its repertory, kicking off with the ever-uplifting Revelations (and a Revelations dance class). The Ailey All Access page lists all of the institution’s online offerings (including classes with Ailey Extension teachers).

My first paid-subscriber-only post will be coming soon, with an extended list of recommended online dance-viewing. Which brings me to…

A note on paid subscriptions:

Some good news: My first week of paid subscriptions brought in more than $600 for the NYC Low-Income Artist/Freelancer Relief Fund and the Dance Union’s NYC Dancers Relief Fund (COVID-19). This morning I sent $310 to each fund, which felt pretty good given my modest (but loyal!) readership. Many thanks to the first wave of paid subscribers.

While I’m delighted about the funds raised so far, I was less delighted to learn that Substack (the company that hosts this newsletter) takes 10% of each subscription payment, and Stripe (the company that manages payments) takes 3.9%. That comes out to about $4 per yearly subscription (so far the most popular option). I suppose I should have looked into this sooner, but I was eager to get started, so these substantial fees came as a surprise. I wrote to Substack to ask if they would waive theirs, considering the circumstances and their generally writer-friendly attitude, but they declined.

Every dollar counts right now, so here is my solution: If you want your full payment to go to the NYC Dancers Relief Fund and/or the NYC Low-Income Artist/Freelancer Relief Fund, donate to them directly. If you send me confirmation of your donation of $30 or more, I’ll sign you up for a complimentary yearly subscription. Just forward your GoFundMe confirmation email to sburke28 [at] gmail [dot] com.

Also, if you are yourself a low-income artist or freelancer, and a donation is not in your budget right now, just respond to this email, and I’ll add you to the complimentary subscription list. (You can also still sign up for free to receive most of what I publish.) The last thing I want to do right now is create some sort of exclusive thing.

Thank you for reading, and hope you all are hanging in there.

SB