We recently connected with Aydan Cohen and have shared our conversation below.
Aydan, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.
I took a major risk along with my family when we moved our lives from Istanbul to the Big Bad Apple when I was just about to start high school.
May 2018. We had no definitive plan. We sold our home, said goodbye to our loved ones, put our valuables in a storage unit and packed our lives in a suitcase to just fly. I was a ballet student in a highly acclaimed performing arts school in Türkiye, but I felt so stuck in that world and just knew it was time to spread my wings. I took on the dance schools of the world that summer. I was auditioning in Europe and the US, and it was genuinely wherever the pasta stuck, we were going to move. It felt not only like we were flipping the page and starting a new chapter, but we were putting the current book away and starting a brand new one. And gambling with the devil on what the new book was going to be! The dream was to land and stay in New York, and spoiler alert, we did. I got into the internationally celebrated Joffrey Ballet School in the heart of Manhattan, and the story writes itself.
With a big risk like this, it is important to not look back, and focus on what is driving you forward. Reminiscence is a dangerous substance. Dreams don’t drive themselves. you have to press the gas and move. The road gets foggy sometimes in new environments. But I have found it is important to trust what your mind and body has naturally retained from past experiences, culturally and educationally. It will be enough to keep your chin high and keep a moral compass.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
My name is Aydan (pronounced i-done). I am a Turkish dancer and choreographer in New York City. Born in İstanbul, I originally started dancing in a Turkish folk dance troupe at six years old. After falling in love with the Juilliard School in NYC at nine years old, I learned English and started ballet in middle school. Today, from Broadway to the underground, from playwriting to belting Sondheim, I have trained in all New York has to offer to a performing artist, and continue to be a student of my craft. I have worked with some of the industry’s biggest names (Akira Uchida, Caili Quan, Juel D. Lane, Ellyn Marsh… ) and performed at the likes of Lincoln Center, Symphony Space, and more. I have choreographed many pieces including “They Called Me Rita”, a play based on the life and times of Rita Hayworth premiering at the United Solo Theater Festival. I was a performer and dance captain for New York based non-profit Flight Path Dance Project, and I am the youngest member sitting on their Board of Directors today at twenty years old. It is also my first season with the X Pro hip hop crew at the Brickhouse NYC, the city’s top commercial dance hub.
I believe what sets me apart from the other hundreds of thousands of dancers in the city is my adaptability and versatility. Saying “yes, and” has gotten me into many rooms and made me succeed in those rooms. I feel %100 confident that no matter what studio you put me in with whichever artist you would like, I will find a way to connect with them and I will thrive. And both New York City and the dance industry demands that kind of malleability. Beyond all of my career achievements, I am most proud to be an immigrant and a queer woman.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
When I was a sophomore studying at the Joffrey Ballet School, my class and I started working with a choreographer for a brand new piece in our concert. In my class of thirty, I was the youngest by a landslide and I looked the part too. I was a good dancer with a solid technical foundation, yet I had auditioned for every opportunity at school until that point and hadn’t heard a single “yes”. Every “no” was getting me all the more frustrated and impacting my self-esteem (which was already on the ground because I was fifteen years old…) This new choreographer gave me no other answer than “no”. I was not getting highlighted in her choreography, always in the frontline of the ensemble, but never a soloist. In a perfect world, I wanted to be the best dancer in class. There was an established group of “good dancers” that were rehearsing more than the ensemble and I wanted to be in that room so badly. I wasn’t picked. But here is the loophole: Choreographers are oftentimes open to dancers just being in the room and studying the dance. So I started going to the rehearsals for the “good dancers” group, learning their choreography in the back of the room. next thing you know, people start to get sick or not show up and they need someone to fill in for them. I started filling in often.
Halfway through the process, the choreographer got the whole cast together before rehearsal one day. In front of the class, she highlighted my work in extra rehearsals, and announced that I would be joining these highlighted sections of the piece. As everyone was applauding and congratulating me, I felt like I genuinely stepped up from where I started in my training. I was proud for the first time in a while.
Reason I say this is not because my idea of success should be attached solely to the applause of my respected peers. The reason this lesson was important is because it made me realize that hearing “no you are not enough” is not a valid reason to stop showing up if the opportunity is still there at your fingertips. Unofficial rule in the performing arts: If the door is open, walk the f**k in.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?
To pick up where I left off, “yes” and “no” in the audition room is one of the toughest realities to deal with as a performer. Oftentimes, the reason I find it is so hard and observe it lead to so many bruised egos is because artists tend to care an astronomical amount about their work. You are taught to “dance, eat, sleep, repeat” and be married to this lifestyle.
I find there is a very clear boundary that needs to be established between the passion for one’s craft and one’s general happiness as a person. It is essential as an artist to have a personality beyond my work, whether that be a social life, hobbies and interests, or setting time aside to metaphorically “smell the trees”. This boundary should be assumed as a work life balance, but so many professionals in New York lose sight of this and I have had to remind myself of its importance lately.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.aydancohen.com
- Instagram: @aydan.cohen



Image Credits
Tori Moore, Dirk Reps, Alexander Sargent, Kai Rose

