Art vs. Business

(This was me - before a performance, and midway through taking off my make up after. I like those two pictures - a good friend of mine took them, and was great in capturing the difference between show and reality)

A while ago I had a very interesting conversation with my sister, Alex. When we were kids, we really didn't get along too well. We are very different personalities, and it took us to grow up until we could fully appreciate each others differences. Not that we hated each other... we just didn't understand where the other one was coming from. She liked to play soccer with the boys in the village I ran away from. She is a police woman... I became a ballerina. Need I say more? I also left my parents house to go to ballet school when we were both pretty young, and from then on we really didn't have much of a chance to work things out the way "normal" kids would. Anyway;
I actually remember the turning point in our relationship - it was a letter she sent to me (before either one of us had e-mail) almost ten years ago. She opened a door for us, and I know she agrees when I say that we have become "best friends" from that point on. I love her dearly, am proud of who she is and am lucky to have her as my sister.
So - the conversation I had with her revolved around her concern about me not missing my life as an artist. She was wondering why - after years of being dedicated to ballet - I don't show any signs of sadness about having left my childhood dream and my life as I have lived it for so long.
Hearing her say this made me think. Am I covering things up? Am I hiding my TRUE feelings about the whole situation from myself and from others? Am I even fully aware of the fact that everything I have worked for as a dancer has come to an end? I started thinking about other dancers who have retired, going through rough times while trying to deal with the end of a career and a new start. And of course - thinking about it made me question myself even more. What is wrong with me? Why am I not suffering from withdrawal symptoms?
For the true test, I watched one of my old performances on DVD the other day... and NOTHING! The only thing I was thinking while watching was:"My feet hurt!"
The truth is that there are a lot of reason why I think I am happy about the way things are. For one, I think I did well while I did it. (I am sure there are people out there who think otherwise, but then again - there will always be people who enjoy thinking or talking badly about others, which is more a reflection of them than of me - or so I like to think)
Another reason is that I started this whole thing when I was very young, and have dealt with every aspect of it since I was 12 years old. And while some things got easier as I grew up, other things never really changed. Having some insight into the business world now, there are so many differences, it is hard to count them all. I now realize how unbelievably emotional the life of an artist is - unnecessarily emotional. People argue, people scream, people are jealous, people get mad, people cry, people are on diets and therefor in bad moods, people are on edge from the moment they get up until they go to bed.
Every place I have been - schools, small dance projects, companies - it has been the same thing. I mean; in every other work place, most of the stuff that goes on in theaters would be taken to court! People would quit left and right, and offices would be empty! But from the moment a kid steps into the arts, we get told to shut up and just be happy to be allowed into this school, this choreography or this company. And we do it for the most part! Looking back at my time as a student, I remember classrooms with 18, 19, 20 year old grown guys, who would get yelled at, humiliated and embarrassed in front of an entire studio. Where else would a young man let this happen without throwing his fist in someones face? And why do people feel they have the right to talk to others like that? At an office people make mistakes, get to work late or accidentally mess up their computer! Could you imagine your boss screaming at the top of his lungs at you for all your co- workers to hear? It would be unthinkable!
Of course - living life on such an emotional level is also exciting, and there are millions of reasons why I loved being part of this world. I am not bringing any of this up as an accusation towards anybody in specific. I guess this is just how the dance world functions - and always has. I almost think that without this constant level of adrenaline and emotion, something would be missing. It drives people and makes them do what they never thought they could. But knowing this, everybody has a choice to say "STOP". So at the end, was I too weak to go on any longer? No... if I was too weak, I would have stopped many years ago. I was simply sick of it. Sick of ignoring my body telling me:"I am hurt!" Sick of accepting things that I would never accept outside of the theater. Sick of (and this is my own fault) putting myself down and being quiet out of fear of being kicked out of a school, losing a scholarship, getting on someones shit-list or having a role taken away.
The other interesting thing is that as a dancer you are constantly judged while doing something that cannot really be judged without a doubt. And not only do others judge us... most of all, we judge ourselves. But it is art... not math. Of course, falling flat on your ass is a clear flaw, but when it comes to general performance quality, who's to say for sure how well or poorly one does? It is a matter of opinion. Back to my new job in the none- dance world: At my job now, nobody could tell me:" You aren't doing that great!", because I could reach right into the drawer, pull out my numbers and say:"... Well, let's see what the numbers say!" No emotions! Just facts. And you know what? In the three months at my new job, nobody has cried, nobody was yelled at, nobody had a fit, nobody stormed off in anger and nobody was treated disrespectfully. And yet: The job gets done! How can that be?
As a conclusion to my thoughts about why I am as OK with my retirement as I am, I was simply ready to move on. I love and cherish the memories I have of my past... Walking down the same street back and forth from high school to boarding school; my first performance as a kid in the Stuttgart Opera house; my first modern classes in Munich; moving to NY; getting coached by Merce Cunningham; touring around the world with an extraordinary Company. I look up at the wall in our breakfast room, with a gallery of photos of Manolo and me in front of the Eiffel Tower, the great wall of China, in a London phone booth, on the beach in Hawaii, on stage, in Athens, in Moscow, with a koala in Australia.
I can truly say: No regrets. I am ready for new challenges and tasks, and am as excited about my future as I am about my past.