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Lana Jwhomidwife, former principal dancer with the Australian Ballet
I loved taking the audience on a dance journey, pushing my body to its limits. But I knew I couldn’t dance forever. After my son was born, I came back as a different person. Although I could add a beautiful touch to my work, there was such a pull on my heart, missing time with him when he was young.
Even before I finished dancing, I knew that I wanted to be a midwife and do things that didn’t touch me at all. My last job was in 2018, in Cinderella; I was happy to finish but it was a big part of me to leave that stage. However, I was looking forward to being a regular mom – just being Lana and trying to find who I was with no ballet experience.
In the following months, I missed my hometown. You have just been removed from your entire network. And you have a little weakness of choice, because your whole life has made you dance. A year after I retired, I enrolled in midwifery at medical school. Starting university in my 30s was a whole new ball game. In my first story, there was everyone on their laptop and I have my book and pen, I’m writing everything, I’m just scared.
In my work now, when I see a woman who is in pain and in great pain, looking at me with all these fears, if I can make her feel safe or even just listen to me and be with them in the room, that is really great. It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Stupidity Deborah Bulla friend of mine, who used to be a principal dancer at the Royal Ballet
Ballet was a childhood dream that followed into middle age, truly. So I found the idea of quitting very difficult. I was a little Peter Pan-ish about it. I just thought that he won’t come tomorrow. It is hard to imagine that you will find something else that satisfies you in the same way. And there is a fear: if you start talking about retirement, then other people – in whose hands your job is – may start talking about it too.
I suffered two leg injuries at different times. The first time it happened, there was a kind of loss, a feeling of “who am I if I don’t dance?” But during my time as a dance director, I also started writing books and hosting TV shows. So when I injured my knee for the second time, I saw it as an opportunity to do other things. This was the part where I realized that the work might be coming to an end.
In the year 2018 I was chosen as a fellow in the House of the Lord. There is something similar to work. You do a lot of work outside the room, planning a lot, researching things, testing your ideas. Then, you walk into the room and, especially in an argument, you stand and act. There is also a sense of heritage, convention and the way people move around the room.
What I miss about ballet is physical expression. I can’t move my body as much as I could, I feel more comfortable with fluid. It’s like my body had 10,000 words, and I feel like I’ve only got 1,500 now.
Sarah Dolník, social worker, former dancer (eg Sarah Schaefer) at the Czech National Ballet
The first time I thought about retirement was during the 2020 Covid shutdown. It made me realize that this job is dangerous. When the government closed the theaters, it made me feel that I could make a difference. I started studying social work and social pedagogics at an online university. I wanted to learn something permanent.
While I was studying, I continued to dance for another three and a half years. That was a bit boring. There was nothing I would say in front of the ballet masters or my director. It was very private. I think most experts believe that you can’t have two passions at the same time.
The last three months of my ballet career were crazy. I had to write my bachelor’s thesis and still do it Swan Lake. So I have a show, I write my thoughts during the break, and then I do it again in the evening. The more I grew as a dancer, the more I saw things differently. Especially health. I had never been so healthy during my time in ballet. Thin, very stressed.
So I decided to stop dancing before I turned 30, that was my last time. I wanted a family and a new job. I left when I was 27. A day after my last program, I cut all my hair off. It’s something I couldn’t do before. Ballet puts a lot of stress on your body. As a dancer, you know exactly what you are eating, you train all day long. Your value is what your body looks like or how you act. Pregnancy was the first time I accepted that my body looked different.
I wrote my CV, looked at it and thought: What should I put here? Nobody cares when I dance like a fairy in Sleeping Beauty! I am now a kindergarten teacher and I focus on social work such as prevention and prevention. In a ballet company, the dancer’s opinion is not important. But now, I enjoy participating in discussions about how decisions are made.
Federico Bonelli, artistic director Northern Balleta former principal dancer at the Royal Ballet
When I was 14, I went to ballet school. When I was 18, I joined the Zurich Ballet – I had a salary and lived alone in a foreign country. It was good. I stayed there for three years, and then I moved to the Dutch National Ballet. Then in 2003, I joined the Royal Ballet in London.
I danced 19 seasons there. Even now, it’s my art house. That’s where I grew up and matured a lot as a dancer. I started thinking about retirement in my mid-30s. I knew I wanted to stay in the game, so it was a question of where I wanted to be. I was 43 years old when I stopped dancing. Many people stop early, some go longer. But I really appreciated my work. I quit because I applied to be the artistic director of Northern Ballet, and I got the job.
People don’t really go from dancing to something else in the ballet world without preparation. And I did everything I could. Love Career Development for Dancers they gave me money to study independently. It led to Clore’s fellowship, about a year of study.
Being a musician was not the only thing I loved. I am very interested in the theater, creating conditions for people to give their best, to show their talent, to create new shows. When I got to Northern Ballet, it was a big part of my voice to bring different voices to the stage. I’m a true believer in the power of ballet to change lives – including people who may not think ballet is for them.
Maria Seletskaja, the conductorformer principal at Estonian National Ballet
When I joined the Estonian Ballet, a member of the National Orchestra Opera I decided to become a ballet conductor. I said, “Of course not.” The conductor was like a god. He is very far away. You don’t argue, you don’t talk. You just say, “Yes, maestro,” and dance to the music.
When I moved to the Berlin State Opera, the main dance studio was next to the orchestra studio. Whenever I had free time, I would peek.
Doing it seems possible, but still a reckless idea. No one really became a conductor with a dance history. And I had to support myself – I couldn’t just leave and go to music school. When Covid suddenly hit I had time on my hands, and signed up for an internship program.
As a conductor, I know what dancers need: it’s about microseconds. Everything really counts. If the tempo is too fast or too slow, gravity starts working against the dancer. So I try to help them when my musicians have other technical needs. It’s about balancing them all.
I believe that every dancer who has completed five years in the company will do well in any role. Why? Because we are taught to obey without question, accept criticism. We work like crazy. We are taught to cut out everything unnecessary and just look, and keep this for years. So if any dancer finds their second calling, there is no doubt that they will succeed at it.
Kay Tienformer dancer, founder of a consultancy service Pivot Tip
My dance career was over before it started. I suffered achilles tendinitis in my senior year – something you never thought would happen to you. I still got a contract with the Bavarian State Ballet but I turned it down. I’m not happy: injuries change. You feel like you’re at this peak and then it just goes downhill. Two weeks after I graduated, I started working at a design company in Munich. I just took that ballet fire and directed it elsewhere. I progressed in PR and built a marketing strategy and strategy.
There is a quote you hear often, from Martha Graham: “A dancer dies twice.” There is a kind of death in retirement because it is different from that knowledge. But I feel like a rebirth. I really wanted to make the career transition more interesting, the search for that person. So I started my own consultancy, Pivot Tipwhich runs a job exchange program for dancers.
There are many reasons why a dancer may breathe. There are age, injury or non-selection periods, where your contract is no longer renewed. A new director may come with a vision that doesn’t exactly match what you offer the company. And, of course, there is freedom of choice.
Historically, retirement is like a dark cloud. It causes a lot of fear. For one, you are mostly registered in one area. When dancers retire, they are usually in their late 20s or early 30s. Some have already gone to university or may have moved on from their age to higher positions. So you’re playing a different version of social media.
There is also a problem. Because your body is your instrument, you must live and breathe your art. And when you leave that system, that tribe, all the people who go to school with you, dance with you, understand you – that can make you very vulnerable.
When I talk to employers and hiring managers, they see dancers as the most productive: their work ethic, discipline, punctuality and teamwork. Dancers are like sponges: they absorb everything they see, they learn quickly. There has not always been a way for them to communicate with outsiders.