Photo: Rob Best
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
Current city: Oakland, CA
Age: 30
College and degree: University of Oklahoma: BFA in Modern Dance, BA in Art History
Website: www.kaneisee.org
How you pay the bills: Choreography commissions, teaching dance to youth and adults, Summer Dance Lab Manager at Shawl-Anderson Dance Center
All of the dance hats you wear: Choreographer, teacher, company manager/administrator (which includes everything from social media marketing to budgeting to grant writing to booking space to editing music), dancer (less recently), mentor
Non-dance work you do or have done in the past: House cleaner, bartender, server, and clothing retail.
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ka·nei·see | collective in Cookie Cutter. Dancers Emma Salmon, Vera Schwegler, Rebecca Morris, Ali Weeks, and Mallory Markham. Photo by Rob Best.
The first year after college:
I had two full-time jobs and taught dance classes on the side. I chose to stay in Oklahoma for one year (where I had gone to college) before moving to the San Francisco Bay Area. I worked regular business hours (plus performances!) for the Oklahoma City Ballet as a general administrator, which was invaluable in my journey to becoming an AD. There I learned how to do everything from making budgets, to planning fundraising galas, organizing costume inventory, working box office during the busy Nutcracker season, etc. At night and on the weekends I worked as a bartender where I not only had a blast and worked for marvelous owners, but was able to save enough money to pay off a hunk of my student loans as well as backpack through Europe for two months (which is when I met my now husband). During that same year I taught at a local dance school one night a week, and eventually implemented a ballet program implemented by Oklahoma City Ballet for blind and visually impaired children and adults. After that sleepless year I moved back to California, where I hoped to pursue being a dance artist.
Five years post-college:
After 4 enlightening, scary, educating, creative, poor, and eye-opening years in the Bay Area full of freelance dancing, various arts administration jobs, and building my teaching curriculum, I launched my company ka·nei·see | collective (inspired by the words “can I see?” and the phonetic spelling of my last name) with my closest friends. The company’s first home season premiered January 2015 to sold-out houses and generous press. From there we jumped in. At the time I was teaching 6 days a week, dancing in 2-3 various projects, taking class almost daily, and figuring out how to run a dance company. It was during this time I started to back away from performing in order to invest more time and energy into choreographing. This is also when I finally understood that the spoon fed version of “success” in dance was relative, and that instead there are infinite definitions of success!
Now:
Still bouncing between my many roles, still taking stabs in the dark and learning new things every day. Overall, my teaching and administrative work is consistent while my choreographic projects (either with the company or commissions elsewhere) come and go in waves, bringing me in and out of the many stages of the creative process. No two months are the same.
Major influences and inspiration:
At risk of sounding cliché, there are too many to name! Some include: all forms of art (hence that degree in art history...); stories of perseverance and compassion; my family, friends, colleagues, and mentors; nature and non-humans; a long, ever growing list of dance movers, makers and teachers.
ka·nei·see | collective in Nevertheless. Dancers Clarissa Dyas, Rebecca Morris, Mallory Markham, Madeline Matuska, and Vera Schwegler. Photo by Robbie Sweeny.
What is on your calendar for 2019?
Having just been named one of Dance Magazine’s “25 to Watch” for 2019, I’m feeling a strange mix of giddy excitement and crippling fear. So far in 2019, the company is producing a large performance piece and art gallery about sexual harassment in collaboration with Cat Call Choir, March 7-10 at Z Space (San Francisco); we are going on tour to Seattle, WA this June; I am a choreographer in ODC/Dance’s Sandbox Series program; I have a consistent teaching schedule throughout the school year; and I am directing the summer programming at Shawl-Anderson Dance Center. As is the norm in this career, I am continually applying to and seeking out opportunities - so we shall see what else arises. I love choreographing for college dance programs, and I hope to cultivate more of these experiences this year - this is me putting this dream out there!
What is the role of teaching within your dance life? What do you love about teaching? What does the phrase “teaching artist” mean to you?
I could write a novel in response to these questions! Most of my income is from teaching dance, and I adore it. I used to teach upwards of 18 classes a week, but recently only 7-10 a week. Teaching helps me stay grounded and in reality. Because I have the pleasure of teaching a large age range (age 3-adults) I get to explore dance from all sides, ranging from focusing on the placement of our scapula bones to telling stories via creative movement. Each age, level, and context has taught me so much - both as an artist and a human.
But most importantly, teaching is not about me! It is about sharing this transformational practice in order to teach students a variety of lessons including how to take ownership of their body, how to express themselves, how discipline and respect will move them through life, how to be compassionate in the world, how to release stress and anxiety, how to work as a community, and so much more.
Can you talk about building your dance company? When did you know you wanted to start your own company? What does a typical week look like with your work with the company (choreographing, rehearsing, arts admin, fundraising)?
I have always wanted to be a choreographer: one of my first dances was to Madonna’s Borderline where my sister kindly lay on the floor and I continually jumped over her, the “borderline.” Innovative, I know...ha! Years later when I was ready to start presenting my choreography professionally I knew I didn’t want to present under my name. I wanted to create a cohort, a family of artists who felt proud of the collective work we developed together. Hence, ka·nei·see | collective.
There is no typical week of company work, as it depends on the current project(s) and what stage of the process(es) we’re in. We roughly rehearse together anywhere from 3 to 10 hours a week (more for tech weeks). On my end, for my various roles for the company, I work anywhere from 7 to 30 or more hours a week. All of the collaborating artists, myself included, have a variety of jobs and projects we are involved in, so we have to be efficient with our creative time together, which can sometimes be frustrating when we’re trying to sink into the creative process. Time is a gift.
As a choreographer, questions on your mind right now:
- I am worried about the sustainability of concert dance and am wondering how we cultivate more dance goers and lovers. The word “accessible” is really important to me. Creatively, what makes a work both genuinely accessible to the masses and thought provoking to seasoned dancers? Logistically, what programs can we continue to put into place to foster dance interest, involvement and appreciation?
- How do we make social change? So far for me this means either hoping my work inspires audiences to ask questions of themselves and their environment and/or brings awareness to an issue, hopefully potentially resulting in individuals feeling compelled to do something in response. But is that really successful? What other approaches are there? And what are the psychological factors that make work intriguing enough to genuinely spark change?
- Privilege, gender, and racial equality in dance.
- Since I cannot emotionally sustain always making work about social justice, how can I discuss the necessity and importance of work whose mission isn’t as overt?
- Personally, how do I switch my brain while in process between a creator and the person who’s receiving the “I’m late!” texts from dancers or the emails about ticketing system malfunctions. How can I stay invested in the work and not be influenced by the neverending outside factors? I am currently practicing this.
Tanya Chianese in rehearsal with ka·nei·see | collective. Photo by Rob Best.
How do you find dancers? What do you look for in a dancer?
When I started ka·nei·see | collective, I asked my closest friends to collaborate with me. Besides the obvious, which is that they are powerhouse performers, this was the best choice because out of love they were willing to commit fully to a process with me for little money and also to compassionately stumble through things with me as I learned how to direct. Besides those who have moved away, all of these marvelous women still dance with the company and have been pillars to our success.
I am drawn in by dancers who clearly have a technical foundation but have also clearly cultivated and explored their personal movement aesthetics. Because I do so much group work they still need to be able to move as one with other dancers, but when given solo movement they can transform it into their own language. Of course, I am also interested in artists who ask questions, who invest in the process with me, who communicate, and who are both passionate and compassionate individuals.
I am still figuring out the best way to find new dancers. Auditions have proved remarkably successful for me in finding brilliant artists, however the rejection process is by far the worst part of this role I have yet to experience. Our recent audition had 67 participants, and writing 64 personalized “no” emails took all of my emotional wellbeing, especially as I cherish many of the dancers I could not afford to hire. The rejection practice in general is not how I wish to be involved in my community, though there is simply no way around it in some cases.
Asking artists directly seems like the best option, but I also only want to work with movers who genuinely want to collaborate with me, too. The best processes are conversations, and those are best had when both parties enthusiastically want to be there. If only there was Tinder for pairing makers and movers...
On finding a mentor:
Don’t be afraid to reach out to someone you admire; they are only human and are probably honored by your enthusiasm!
How do you balance the administrative and creative needs/projects for your company?
I don’t - it’s honestly a constant struggle. Over the past few years I have had to make sacrifices in other aspects of my dance identity, such as performing less or teaching fewer classes, in order to make enough space for the many aspects of running the company. I don’t regret it even a little bit; how lucky I feel that I get to do this! When I have to negotiate admin work that is no fun or genuinely horrible, I move forward by reminding myself of the end goal which is the creative work itself and its possible impact, the opportunities built for others, and the self fulfillment.
Financial advice to pass onto dancers just embarking on starting their own company:
As leaders in our field, it is our responsibility to change the trend of unpaid dance work, not the performers’. I think suggestions that imply dancers should insist on not working for free is unfair - it underestimates just how hungry and desperate dancers are to move, especially young artists. The job is not on them, it is on us. The first time I presented work publicly I paid each dancer a whopping $15 - basically their bus fare and a coffee. Fortunately I pay more than that now, but still nowhere near enough. Regardless, I have paid artists for every single show we have ever done, no matter how small, and am working hard to continually increase pay.
I have never made a single dollar from my work as director of ka·nei·see | collective, but rather, I still pay for much of it out of my own pocket. All company income (donations, grants, or ticket sales) goes directly towards production expenses and my collaborating artists. Though many have told me to pay myself, I have zero regrets. This is my dream, and the happiness I receive from making work is worth more than anything. And it is also necessary - my collaborators are still not paid enough, and monetarily supporting and thanking them is the most important financial expense. Without them, there is no art.
What does wellness mean to you? How do you support wellness for your dancers?
With our current project Nevertheless about sexual harassment and assault, we have had to take lots of emotional breaks both in and out of the studio. Not only are we researching difficult stories, articles, investigations, and history on a daily basis, but inside the studio we are embodying, and swiftly shifting between, both the harasser and the victim. It takes a significant amount of vulnerability and strength. We are practicing loving touch at the beginning of rehearsal and conversation throughout the process. I make it a point to check-in (outside of the studio) with dancers when I notice them struggling. I strive to be open and approachable - I believe and hope if my collaborators know I trust, believe in, and listen to them then they are given the freedom to push themselves and the work to new levels.
Final thoughts: Hope/belief/love of the profession:
There are simply no words to express my love affair with dance - perhaps you feel the same way. Everyone dances, and everyone deserves to dance. It is never ever about perfection or about “success” (as I thought as a young dancer), but instead about the art and making sense of the world via authentic, shared explorations and experiences. It is my hope to make this creative world more accessible to the masses.
And thank you, everyone, for everything! I am so lucky to be in this family of dance with you.
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