A Conversation with Cathy Eilers

This really wasnʼt as tough conversation or hard interview to schedule as I thought it may be. I simply asked Cathy for 30 minutes of her time and Tuesday at 1pm worked for her.

Cathy Eilers is the director of Joyce Soho. I knew she would be a person steeped in the
New York, downtown dance scene and a good person to have a conversation on dance with. I had no idea she would be so nice and easy to talk to. Given Joyce Soho’s location and reputation, I guess I was expecting a snobby hipster.

When I left the office, I was glad; it was a gorgeous spring day in New York City. The sun was shining and warming my face. It was one of those days where you need to put on your sunglasses for both the blinding light of spring and to guard your eyes from the wind that blows up street grit around you. Gorgeous!

I came within a block of Joyce Soho and found a film crew working on the street in front. I dodged extras as I entered the building. The crew had set up in the lobby of the theater and it felt odd to me to see so much equipment laying around in the theater lobby. I went upstairs and into Cathy’s office. She told me film crews rent there all the time. She mentioned that Pippin, the Operations Manager, had been at Joyce Soho since 3am that morning in order to accommodate them. Then Cathy, in her buzzy style, said that she couldn’t remember what our topic of conversation was supposed to be about. In her style, she abruptly stopped mid-sentence and paused. Still focused on her computer screen she explained, “I’m having a hard time finishing my thoughts lately,” then turned towards me, smiling hugely.

She immediately jumped in and started talking about the need for staff at the theater. Which led to the topic of these “hard economic times” and how everyone is still hurting. Economically, things are not getting better for her small theater, or the larger Joyce Foundation, but things are stabilizing. She shifted to talking about the Joyce Soho’s Meet the Agents panel. She said in one of the recent panels almost every agent in New York showed up and it became an Us vs. Them discussion between agents and dancers. The agents felt as if the dance companies who turned out for the panel discussion weren’t ‘good’ enough to be represented. The dancers just wanted more information. The point of the panel was to break down the mystery behind finding an agent and getting bookings. The discussion between the agents and the dancers never got that far. The topic of conversation skipped from there to how transparency in a person on the business side of performing arts is appreciated.

Cathy never stopped playing with the papers on her desk that were organized in a tiered column. Her hands never stopped touching the papers, the paper clips. Cathy’s energy is like a caffeine buzz. She appears very eager, in a good girl, pleasing way. Our banter literally zoomed from topic to topic. It went from submissions by young choreographers to Joyce Soho, to how the part of her job that she hates most is curating. She doesn’t like to feel like she’s “playing God.” And yet she is swamped with over 200 submissions and only 15 spots this season. She does not assume that she is qualified to create a season; however, it’s something she has to do, like it or not. She is frank and very practical. Cathy is a self-described helper.

During our conversation we didn’t solve any of the dance world’s problems, we didn’t come up with any new brilliant ideas on audience engagement or social media.

Our discussion turned to artists’ feelings. We both don’t like to hear about people taking this business too personally. Some young artists understand that curating, choosing and granting truly can be a numbers game once the panel/curator/presenter shows interest in the work. Once the idea, energy, theme of the dance grabs the attention of an educated programmer and the work stands apart, it then becomes a question of scheduling, fees and logistics. This is the business side of art. The dark side if you will.

Conversation swerved on from there to something that is a favorite topic at the Joyce Foundation meetings- current BFA dance program curriculums. It’s refreshing and yet depressing how each young dancer here in New York feels like the world is theirs for the taking. That greeness is not something one wants to squash. Cathy and I wished we could hand that newby an art/life/balance handbook- something practical. Cathy feels a sense of responsibility toward these people in her position as the Director of Joyce SoHo. Is the life of a dancer something you want to warn people about? I say let experience come to you.

We both wished for a Reality 101 class in BFA/Dance programs. A class where they teach young dancers how to balance their check books, build performance budgets, get their Pilates certification and open a bottle of wine. Maybe there should be a class or a full curriculum that allows eager young dancers to train in dance technique(s) while focusing on other aspects simultaneously- like writing on dance, arts marketing, technical stage craft…This is where Cathy ran her eyes over her desk and said, “We have a handbook that breaks down the process of putting up a show that we hand out to each choreographer that comes here (pause) but I don’t know where it is” and turned to me and again smiled hugely.

She seemed to have much empathy towards performers. It made me wonder if that’s why she was there, getting paid peanuts to help these young, emerging and sometimes not always emerging, choreographers produce themselves (or subsidize themselves) at her stage. After all, she is a self-described helper.

Transitions: A question of age

I went through a friend’s facebook photo album this afternoon. There were about 200 photos of her, me, and people we both know. For three years of our lives we danced in the same company, lived in the same city and sometimes shared the same room on tour.

Things are so different now for each of us. Sheʼs still living in Mexico City, her home, where her family lives and where she grew up. She still works in concert dance when she can, but makes the most money dancing in commercial events and as a producer. I havenʼt performed in years. I took time off because I thought I needed to go to graduate school and find where my other interests in life lie. I stopped performing because I just needed a break from touring all the time. A suitcase can only hold so many things.

When did the transition happen? How do you balance life as an artist through the regular pressures of life? Can you find stability (if thatʼs what you call it) as well as finding the time to create/participate in good, interesting, valuable dance works? Is it possible? I hope so.

A number of my peers are going through similar transitions. Many are either having children or have them already. I know of others who are in relationships that did not support them artistically, but support them in other ways and have since stopped dancing. Is this all just a matter of maturity? Am I going through more growing pains at the age of 34?

Where do the intersections of a healthy, happy life and art come and how are they smoothly weathered?

Here is the article by Maura Donohue “Mom” with Ellis Wood that inspired this post.

-Angela

On Money

Or why we, as artists, shouldn’t sell ourselves short.

Money is a touchy subject.  I’ve never been good with it. When I was younger, my brother was the one my family members would ask for 10 bucks.  He always had it.  Now he’s an electrical engineer, paid about four-times-as-much annually as I make as a dancer/writer/Artist Representative/Dance Advocate.  And I’m the one with the college degree.

Ask a dancer what their annual salary is and they probably don’t have a clear idea.  Artists have lots of jobs-paid and unpaid, performance and teaching, day and night.  Why is the subject of money in dance taboo?  Are we embarrassed to be paid for doing a job we love?  Why is compensation never clearly discussed in an audition?  Why do dancers keep working for free?  We create art.  Art is valuable to culture and human nature.  We should be paid accordingly.

I recently learned about a grant that awards choreographers with $10,000.  The proposal asks applicants to “describe how you would use $10,000 to shape a sustainable future for your dance company.”  One artist’s response was:

In order to shape a sustainable future for my company I will open a 401k.

Brilliant!  This is how we should be thinking about money.  Dancers should not be shy about asking for it in exchange for their services.  Choreographers should not be afraid to put an appropriate price tag on their work, one that provides them with sufficient livable wages.  One needs a job in order to eat, jobs strengthen the community and the economy.  Dance is our job.  We should be paid to live by doing a job we love.

This is the video that inspired this blog post:   Made Here

-Angela Leum