• Matthew Lawrence takes his final bow on stage with his daughter Willow
    Matthew Lawrence takes his final bow on stage with his daughter Willow
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Finished. Done. The final curtain has fallen. Just five minutes ago, I was a dancer. Surrounded by farewell glitter, applauded by thousands and embraced by colleagues. Now, wiping off my make-up seems aptly symbolic -- like wiping away 18 dancing years in an instant -- as, abruptly, I am not a dancer.

Retiring from dance is Band-Aid-pulling sudden. From age seven, dancing, being a dancer, has been the focus of my life. Though I admit that in my formative years the passion was more my dad’s than my own – ballet subtly infected me, until I became covered in ballet warts (a similar analogy was given to me by an Anglican minister concerning the potential contagion of dance). Emulating the greats: Baryshnikov, Nureyev, Mukhamedov and later Aussie icon Steven Heathcote, became my ambition, my life’s direction. There have been many stage-miles, many characters, many roles, many turn-, jump (pyrotechnic)- obsessed moments, and many mirror crafting hours. All over.

As a young dancer, ballet seemed such a safe, sheltered, structured work place, with a clearly defined progression to your day, career and life. In contrast, the end can feel like an out-of-control spaceship, heading into the abyss. In a recent article by The Atlantic -- “The unique, sad challenge of retiring from ballet” – 44-year-old New York City Ballet principal, Wendy Whelan, reflects on her ensuing retirement, saying, ”When you are a kid, you find so much comfort in dancing. I was comforted. (I thought) I am safe. But then in the end, you are not really safe.”

During 2002 Professor David Throsby and Virginia Hollister of Macquarie University compiled a survey (of 51 dancers and 24 choreographers), looking into the issues of career transition for retiring dancers in Australia. Their report, Moving On (the most recent and comprehensive report on the subject in Australia), found that most dancers are often ill-prepared for this moment, and the economic, psychological and educational challenges they face. Their woes were due largely to, it says, “Having lived in a relative inward-looking and intensely focused environment.”

It occurs to me that there is a clear parallel between a dancers’ world and Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory: both are closed environments, very specialised, with long hours. And apart from making chocolate, what else could an Oompa Loompa do? To add, crucially, if not one of Mr Wonka’s, “little green workers”, who am I? What is my identity?

Iconic dancer and choreographer, Martha Graham, once said: “A dancer dies twice – once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.”

Over a headache-inducing glass of sponsor wine, you will find numerous examples of ex-dancers struggling, grieving over their lost identity, desperately holding on to their un-replaced status, and invariably starting conversations with a haughty “In my day…”.

So it is refreshing to chat with an at-ease, former Australian Ballet (AB) principal, Lisa Bolte, eight years on from her retirement, and her “really satisfying” role as patron manager of the AB’s Philanthropy Department.

Bolte speaks with a detached attachment about her career. “When the AB danced Manon last year, I remembered dancing that glorious role with Steven Heathcote and Geon van der Wyst. I watched the show, partly enjoying those memories of myself dancing, but also, not necessarily wanting it back again.” She remembered, as a dancer, “the exhaustion and being that exhausted. Constantly criticising every part of my day; trying to be better.”

At 40, Bolte stepped away from the stage. In retrospect, she says, “It’s not really your choice totally in the end.” Clarifying: “There was a lot of talent coming up, and it was time to give those young ballerinas opportunities.” She talks often of her daughter, Olivia, as well – suggesting family, being a mum, also took over.

Helping dancers with career transition is psychologist, Kim Lyncolne, from The Field, a coaching and development consultancy. Lincolne is quick to point out she is not a “career advisor” as she does not advise on jobs, but helps from a psychological viewpoint. Unlocking potential. Mindfulness. Or as she likes to say, “Finding what’s meaningful for them.”

While working with the QB dancers, she recognised “dancers have a massive issue with identity”. The fear is: “I am so specialised; this is such a small industry; what else can I do that will live up to my past self?” Lincolne says: “No judgment in this, but someone who has been delivering the post for 10 years probably wouldn’t have had the same highs in their career -- and being scared they couldn’t match that.” Their transition would be easier.

Dancers, in terms of physicality, curtailed livelihoods and -- to a lesser extent – public profile, can draw parallels with sportsmen. However, while fitness and age may compare – anything after 35 being bonus time -- incomes do not. Michael Clarke, Australia’s highest paid sportsman (within Australia), will take away upwards of six million dollars a year. Australia’s top dancers are lucky to clear $100k (and most are paid well below this mark). Unlike high-flying sportsmen, we cannot retire from on fat paychecks. In fact dancers, being so under-paid, often leave their careers with limited funds (a polite way of saying broke!). So financial assistance to retrain is vital.

Lincolne though is skeptical about government-based schemes, which tend to, as she says, “tick boxes” and “prepare people for the work-place, rather than encouraging people to do what they love”. As such, she views career coaching, combined with financial support as -- “perfect”.

Professor Throsby and Hollister’s dancer transition report highlights, “issues relating to career change are some of the most important that these artists are likely to face in their entire lives”. They recommend a number of initiatives, notably a dedicated dancer transition centre such as exists in many countries.

There is talk of something similar coming to Australia. Executive director of Sydney Dance Company, Anne Dunn, says, “We along with the West Australian Ballet, Queensland Ballet (QB), the Australian Ballet (AB), and Bangarra Dance Theatre are participating in a research program to look at what the best model or structure for such a program might be.”

At present, within the antipodeans, only the AB and QB offer financial retraining assistance to their dancers.

It is sadly ironic that ballet is an art form which loses its artists at their artistic peak. A painter can paint forever, a writer can always write, a musician, an actor, a singer -- their professions can last a lifetime. At 38, when most artistic careers are steaming ahead, I am cooked and fried full of Nurofen. I will miss the performance highs, the camaraderie and being paid to keep fit. However the aching knees and jib-board back were frustrating. Deflating. Tipping the pain-to-reward ratio out-of-kilter.

In writing this article, it has made me reassess my own readiness -- have I mentally and financially prepared enough? Only time will tell. Paradoxically, at present, the wider I search, the narrower – and more home based -- my search becomes. For the moment, I will enjoy passing on the joy of dance by teaching, choreographing, and sharing some of my world by writing to you.

- Matthew Lawrence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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