We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Gavin Larsen a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Gavin, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. How did you learn to do what you do? Knowing what you know now, what could you have done to speed up your learning process? What skills do you think were most essential? What obstacles stood in the way of learning more?
I have been learning how to be a dance writer, critic, and commentator for as long as I have been dancing. The process of training to become a dancer is as much mental and intellectual as it is physical, which is not something most people realize. For students who are fully invested in learning their craft, the technical training goes hand in hand with critical thinking: you must analyze the information you receive and that you see, assess it and translate it to your own body. As you do those things, you are developing an aesthetic frame of reference for the art form along with the ability to critique it.
That analytical approach served me well as a performer but little did I know how fundamental it would be to my careers after I left the stage. As a dance teacher, I use the research I did on my own body to inform my students in their practices/development, and as a writer, I am able to translate into words the physical dissertation, so to speak, that I created as a performer.
The work of writing for media publications came fairly naturally to me because I’d read dance magazines voraciously for decades. When I got my first assignment for Dance Teacher magazine, I already understood how to shape the article and what tone it should have. Learning how to contact sources and conduct interviews was a process of trial and error, but with the help of my editors, I think I made relatively few mistakes.
I’d advise any performer who is interested in writing about their field to read every piece of journalism they can, and to analyze why certain pieces work. Try to ascertain what writing strategies are used and to what aim. Imagine what information has been left out– and there always is plenty of that– and why.
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.
I am a former professional ballet dancer. After I retired from performing, I turned to teaching and writing about dance. I have been a regular contributor to many dance media publications for over ten years, and my memoir was published in 2021. I teach dancers from age 10 to adult, beginner to professional level.
I got into dance the way most people do– by following my intense passion for it. From my very first class at age 8, I was fascinated by ballet, and not many years later I knew it would be my life’s work. By 14, I was fixated on a professional ballet career. I had talent, drive, and luckily, support from my family and opportunity for excellent training. I became professional by 17 and danced for multiple companies in the US and Canada before retiring at 35.
I am immensely proud of my stage career, but now that I have moved beyond it, I am beginning to see that my greatest contribution to the dance field may be through my writing and teaching. Those are the channels through which I am leaving a lasting mark and an enduring one. My book, Being a Ballerina: The Power and Perfection of a Dancing Life, tells the story of the “everyday ballerina.” It is ostensibly a memoir, but my aim was not to tell my life story. The book expresses, through the prism of many of my own experiences, what it means to live inside the dancer’s body, feel her soul, her spirit and understand what makes her tick. The book illuminates truths much larger than the minutia of ballet. It is about the human condition, what propels us forward, what holds us up, and the relationship each of us has with ourselves.
As a teacher, the greatest reward is not placing students in professional companies, though that is very gratifying. The most beautiful part of guiding young people through dance is helping them develop that same sense of self, of purpose, of accomplishment and the satisfaction that comes from pushing oneself through barriers towards personal greatness.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
As a very young, ambitious dancer, brand new to the professional life, I scrambled to learn the ropes, advance my career, fit in, make friends, and manage the responsibilities of adult life all at once– and this was happening before I’d reached the age of most college graduates.
It was rocky at times, sometimes fun, sometimes lonely, confusing, and overwhelming. Being an introvert both helped and hindered my progress: I was very happy to focus straight ahead on my goal of progressing upwards through the ranks, but it was not my instinct to turn to colleagues and peers for support, bonding, and information.
During my first season with the ballet company I’d joined directly out of high school, I was cast in a very small solo part in The Nutcracker. It was exciting, but I was oblivious about how to prepare for the role, mentally, artistically, and technically. It didn’t occur to me to ask for advice from an older dancer, who most certainly would have been flattered and welcomed the chance to help an awkward youngster.
I learned the part, performed it a few times, and never got any feedback from the artistic staff. I did not know (and again, it did not occur to me to seek guidance on protocol) to ask for critique from anyone. I assumed that if I’d done badly or made mistakes, someone would tell me. I didn’t think that silence was a bad sign.
The next year, the casting went up on the bulletin board without my name for that role. I was shocked, embarrassed, devastated. By that point, I’d gained enough awareness and confidence to realize I should not just let it go. I steadied my nerves and approached the artistic director. The response to my query as to why I was not cast was simply that I had not done a mature enough job the previous season. My voice shaking, I asked for another chance. I was given permission to rehearse the part, with no guarantee of a performance.
I set aside my pride, walked into rehearsal, and looked at the soloist dancers who were veterans in the part. I copied their artistic flair, their projection, their timing, and then when I stepped into the center of the studio to show the director what I could do, I felt the room watching.
The performance casting went up and the next day, and there was my name.
For the rest of my career, I never again shied away from seeking help, guidance, critique, or feedback. I can’t say it was always natural to do so– pride is a powerful thing, as is fear of looking inadequate– but I learned to look for those who would be knowledgeable yet sensitive, who had a good perspective on my situation and reliable experience. Many times I’ve been bruised emotionally, sometimes I’ve rejected the advice, and sometimes it’s taken a while before I can see the value or truth in what I’ve received. But always I’ve forged a connection and at the very least, gotten another set of eyes on my work.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
The most rewarding part about being a creative and interpretive artist is seeing, hearing, and feeling the impact I’ve made on my audience, whether they are sitting in a theater watching me dance or reading one of my books or articles.
As a performer, applause is fleeting, polite, and relatively meaningless. That is not to say that if you are in an audience you should not clap! But on stage, we know the audience WILL respond in that impersonal manner, and as soon as the curtain is down and the house lights are up, the applause stops and we are separated from those who’ve just witnessed our work. The opportunity to really hear a viewer’s reaction to my dancing and thoughts on what it meant to them is rare. But when it happens, I know it’s sincere. Whether it’s a chance meeting in a public place, a letter or email from an appreciative audience member, or a comment via social media, I know a special effort has been made because someone felt strongly enough to want me to know how they feel.
As an author, the reactions, responses, comments, and emotional outpouring I have received have been truly unexpected and overwhelming. People have told me they were moved to tears, laughter, deep reflection and gained insight they’d never imagined. As I was writing the book, I did not think about what sort of response I wanted to elicit from my readers. I simply wrote from my heart, with truth and bravery. And that is how I danced, too. I realize now that my dancing life prepared me for my writing life, and that as an artist, I am both at the same time.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.gavinlarsen.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gavinalarsen/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/gavin.larsen.58/; https://www.facebook.com/GavinLarsenAuthor/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/gavinlarsen1/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/Gavinalarsen
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_vuiWHothM&t=2s&ab_channel=GavinLarsen
- Other: Threads: Gavinalarsen
Image Credits
Ashby Baldock, Blaine Covert