We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Rachel Damon. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Rachel below.

Rachel , looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Earning a full time living from one’s creative career can be incredibly difficult. Have you been able to do so and if so, can you share some of the key parts of your journey and any important advice or lessons that might help creatives who haven’t been able to yet?

I earn a full-time living by pairing two part time jobs, one in dance and one in theater. I figured out in college that I like doing production work, which means lighting and costumes and scenery and stage management – those sorts of things. I was on student work crews at both colleges where we would make the scenery or work on the props and be on the stage crew for shows, and that work not only paid me, but it put me in groups of people who I really felt a kinship with. The very smart creative types who were not as interested in being on stage – by which I mean often times the people who don’t like to be looked at as much or paid as much direct attention to – they prefer to be behind the scenes. That really speaks to a part of me, which is very introverted and intense. The cycle of working on a show has intensity for sure in that it culminates in some sort of public sharing and requires you to deal with the pressures of that launch.

So I was in college and doing a lot of producing student shows and learning about technical theater and not really doing my homework for my major! Which was political science at the time. I just really preferred being hands-on with people who still wanted to talk about how society works or doesn’t work, and where we fit in or don’t fit in; people who are not afraid to own their marginalized identities. That work paralleled being in performances as a dancer, choreographing and creating projects, as the director or choreographer. I’m very passionate about that aspect of my career, the creating something out of nothing part. I also recognize that it’s very difficult to make a living as a performer or director. A lot of my colleagues went into teaching as a means of making a more stable income that supports their artistic practice, but I opted to go the production route. So I’ve gotten to do all kinds of shows from the onstage perspective and the backstage perspective. I’ve been able to travel the world and work in all kinds of venues inside and outside, and just gained a ton of experience by being overbooked for a good decade.
The pandemic shut down interrupted most of my field, and the silver lining for me personally, since I came through with my health intact, is that it dropped the bottom out of my workaholism. Closures forced me to reassess my workload and life balance in a new way. So I was fortunate that once performance companies started to work again, I was able to go back to my job at Blue Man Group, which is owned by Cirque du Soleil, where I’m a stage manager. And that job is extremely flexible and I’m able to be there 1 to 3 days a week, typically. That leaves room for Synapse Arts, my creative home and nonprofit organization, to be my primary focus. Synapse has been built by many people over 20 years now – we started with a $4,000 budget in 2004 and now employ a staff and a team of teaching artists and various creators – still all part time though, and we all work two or more places.

Something that I know now which could’ve been helpful when I was younger is to sit with feelings and select which opportunities really feel aligned with how you want to live your life. I spent a lot of time saying yes to everything and set myself up for a cycle of burnout that wasn’t healthy. I don’t know how much that would have changed my path, because I’m very glad for where I ended up in my career. I think I would have benefited from moments of slowing down and reflecting, instead of always pushing through or forward.

Rachel , before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I make dance projects. My creative home is called Synapse Arts and it is a Chicago based nonprofit that creates, performs, and educates all ages, identities and income levels. We’ve been a core part of the Chicago dance landscape for 20 years, and we work closely with the Chicago Park District as Arts Partners in Residence. That means we teach classes, host performances, and work in the studio and office spaces at three park locations. Everything we do is free or very low cost to the public – you can take a 10 week session of one of our classes for about $40. So that means that we do a ton of fundraising through grants, donations, and sponsorships, as well as work with earned income streams such as commissions and residencies.
We do a lot of creative problem-solving. In any setting where I’m working, whether that’s on a theater production, a dance performance outdoors, a film, in the classroom, or in myriad meetings, I am always trying to make room for solutions and answers and processes that account for the people who are doing the work and the people who are receiving the outcomes. That means approaching issues with a mindset that the group knows more than I do and even if I’m the guide in that setting, that it’s my job to listen to everyone and empower everyone to speak up so our combined skills and identities can co-create effective and long lasting solutions.
One example is our New Works program, which is mentorship that runs for six months for underrepresented choreographers. They are selected through an open call and receive resources to make a new work while they’re learning how to self-produce. We’ve done that program a number of ways and with each round it starts with the same structure, but is tailored to the artists and the moment we’re in. For example, in 2023 we were still having covid-related complications and gave the artists the option to make work for a stage, for site specific location, on screen, or for a live stream. We had artists who made videos, stage performances, and site specific performances, as well as a zine (a self-made small magazine). Each artist needed different methods by which to deliver their messaging, and some of those methods we hadn’t considered before, but we were happy to support.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

A lesson I had to unlearn is what “professional” means. A lot of times professional can be code for white or middle class, or male. This shows up in writing, and interpersonal networking of all kinds, and repeatedly in any hiring process. As a leader, I feel it’s my responsibility to help create more leaders, and that has brought me a lot of lessons in how different people speak, write, and comport themselves. Professional can mean subdued and serious and groomed in particular ways. I didn’t recognize when I first started working professionally, by which I mean, getting paid to do the work that I do. How much of that was infused in me through my private school education. I gained privileges that are foundational to an education in a small private setting, in addition to being a white person. It took a while to recognize, unlearn, and make new space for types of professionalism that don’t erase someone’s background. I think you can create a working culture that still encourages loud laughs and big hand gestures, apparel that celebrates the individual, sharing food of all kinds at the lunch table, and writing that’s more poetic than formal and scholarly.
I still notice it when I’m proofreading someone’s writing style and have to stop, recognize my reaction, and truly assess if my changes are improving someone’s writing or if I’m just reducing their self-expression by editing to match my educational background.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

I think a lot of people who don’t consider themselves creative actually are creative. Our society tends to prioritize things that can be monetized. So capitalism can send you messages like you aren’t a watercolor painter because no one would buy your paintings. Or you have never published any of your recipes so you can’t consider yourself a creative cook or chef. I think that these messages are erroneous. You don’t have to be good at something for it to be enjoyable, you don’t have to show anyone or receive feedback in any form for your digital illustrations or embroidered home goods.

I also think that a lot of people who, when they hear I’m a choreographer or dance maker, seem sort of wrong-footed or like they have no idea what that means or what to ask next, are concerned that they should know. Typically education in the United States doesn’t have much dancing or watching dance in it. It’s often treated as a separate practice or luxury or an elite art form. I think this is leftover from the traditions of Ballet and is successfully being shifted by dance forms like Breakdancing, West African dance, Baratanatyam, and social dance forms like Salsa and Swing. The knee-jerk response of “Oh I can’t dance” or having a fear that you don’t know how to watch dance is a good representation for how we interact with a lot of things that are new or unknown to us. If someone at a dinner party tells me they’re a mathematician, I have no clue what that means in their day-to-day life. They might think that I get up at 6am to do ballet class every day (which I have never done in my life).
What I’m saying is to give yourself more grace, especially when it comes to learning something new. Or being bad at something! It takes courage to be bad at something, and I really like that in spaces that are formed by creative people, there’s a lot more room for flubs and mistakes because as the dear Bob Ross will tell you, a lot of those “happy accidents” turn into cool discoveries. Oftentimes creative people have been through a lot of marginalization or criticism, or feeling misunderstood in some way. Those people are willing to take risks, which is really best done where there are others to catch you when you fall.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://synapsearts.com/
• Instagram: synapse.arts
• Facebook: /SynapseArts
• Other: Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/user7374256

Image Credits

Matthew Gregory Hollis, Matt Griffo, Frank Konrath, Megan Rhyme, William Frederking