On being open to exploration

You’ve been a professional dancer for 14 years, and in 2018 you started sharing your photography, at first on a photo-focused Instagram @PearlTakesPics. Are there things that you get from photography that you don’t get from dance, and vice versa? What’s unique to your experience of each practice?

In dance I’m often the subject. I am sort of a tool for other people’s ideas, or a body for a choreographer. There’s also just this intense pursuit of perfection that exists in classical ballet that is very humbling. It’s rewarding in its pursuit, and also incredibly frustrating and discouraging at times. In ballet I am constantly concerned about if I’m doing it right, or how I’m being perceived, or I’m not feeling quite right in my body. There’s a lot of insecurity attached. And maybe I’m just speaking from the perspective of how I feel today on this Tuesday afternoon, because other times I can feel so free and confident and clear in what I’m doing on stage. That comes with a really wonderful team of directors and coaches, and choreography that allows you the perfect storm of things to come together to provide a space to feel a sense of freedom.

What I’ve appreciated about photography so much is it’s allowed me to take the focus of off myself, literally and psychologically. I love being able to try to freeze a moment of intimacy, or joy, or shame, or just anything that I am fortunate enough to be close to, particularly in my field [as a dancer]. I’ve been invited in by my dancer friends when I’ve traveled abroad and photographed them preparing for performances. And it just takes me out of myself.

How would you describe the mindset you’re approaching your photography with?

There is this inherent discipline that exists within me, this drive that when I’m passionate about something, I become a little obsessed with it. And so I’m very interested now in this moment of my life to just have a daily practice of [taking photos] and being open to learning about it. I still tell people all the time, “I don’t know the terminology, I don’t know the vocabulary.” I learn something every day. Every time I come across a photographer they’re like, “Oh, did you know that this lens does this?” And I’m like, “No, I didn’t. I barely know what my own lens does.” I’m comfortable in being a beginner [in photography], but as a dancer, I think it’s reminded me that sometimes the best work is bred through you approaching your practice as a beginner every day, like ego gone. Some of my favorite images were just me being like, “Well, let’s see. I don’t know.”

And they might not be technically perfect, but there’s a feeling in there that I’ve been told is resonating. It’s reminded me that in my practice as a dancer, or as a choreographer, or wearing any other sort of hat I might put on, that when you can allow your ego to go away a little bit, and you quite literally just approach it like, “Let’s see, it doesn’t have to be good. Let’s just try something”—that sometimes that’s how the most meaningful and authentic work, work that actually feels generous, can come through.

That sense of “ego gone” really struck me when I saw your gallery show, EMBODIED. In ballet there is so much obvious beauty: all the beautiful shapes dancers can make with their bodies, the beautiful costumes, the beautiful makeup. I feel like your eye on dance is so different, and so much more interesting and surprising and beyond the surface, than the eye on dance that so many dance photographers have who don’t have your experience of actually being a dancer.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

[When I photograph dancers I’m aware] that there’s an enchantment around costumes, and the makeup, and that is all really amazing. But I think because I live in it, I’m not as enchanted by those things.

There’s someone I consulted with [as I was starting to put together my show at PRIV.Y GALLERY]. She said, “What I’m really interested in are certain images where you can tell that there’s just such an intimacy between you and these people, where there’s almost a gnarliness to them. They look exhausted. They look like they couldn’t do one more of whatever they’re about to do.”

She encouraged me to lean into those moments. Over the next couple of months that I had to capture images, I found myself really thinking: what is something that if you took ballet out of it completely is relatable? What is it about being utterly depleted as a human being? What is it that, if I didn’t know anything about ballet, would actually move me, or make me feel seen? Because those are my favorite works of art, pieces that make me feel really seen.

On that theme of feeling seen: I want to ask you about playing with tradition, because you have roles in your rep like Giselle that have been performed for 170 years. Within that storied tradition, how do you find and express your own voice as an artist?

Over the years it’s been so paramount to have people around me to share ideas with. Because a ballet could actually be performed in so many different ways. Who are these people [the characters]? Is their relationship based on a foundation of sincere connection and love, or is it based on someone just wanting to escape? The conversation between the characters on stage is just as important, if not more important, than the execution of the steps. I think [it’s about] bringing whatever personal truth you might have to the story. I pull from personal experiences in a lot of ways. Like, “When was the last time I felt really fragile? When was the last time I felt embarrassed, or when was the last time I felt completely betrayed?” And I just think back to that time: okay, that’s this moment in the ballet.

As time passes, I have more experiences to pull from, and it shifts as well. These [classic] works are very stylized. And so I think how I’ve found my way into these stories that can sometimes feel a bit challenging and a little outdated is just infusing them with the experiences that I’ve had, but remaining within the classical style of ballet. I think that brings a more natural quality, in how I interact with my partners and the other people on stage. Hopefully [that approach] touches people in a different way. My favorite dancers, that’s what they brought to the work.

So, I’ve just been trying to continue that, and it shifts a little every time I come back to it. It’s nice to revisit these works over and over.

Are there particular roles you dance that you look at now and you’re like, “Wow, I perform that so differently than when I was first in that role?”

I think I’m more comfortable in [resisting] what my acting teacher calls putting a hat on a hat. She said, “You’re naturally a sincere person. So if the character is sincere, you don’t need to perform sincerity. Just be.” Also, I’m more comfortable in listening to people around me and responding on stage.

I think I used to come into a [performance] space with all these ideas and would try to implement all of them, when in fact all of this research is just there. I don’t need to apply it all. You have to leave space to trust that it’s all there, and therefore you’ve done the work, and now all you have to do is respond to what’s happening around you, or what your partner is giving you, because if my partner is giving me a line so to speak, or an emotion, or a reaction to the situation, and I’m not responding to him, what I thought my brilliant idea was is not going to resonate, because it doesn’t make sense in the context of the conversation we’re having with each other. I think if anything, I’ve just tried to be a bit more confident in my approach, to trust that it’s all where it needs to be. And now all I need to do is experience performing it more, and allow myself space for surprises.

I love that: allowing yourself space for surprises. Looking forward—you’re in the middle of this big, big professional transition. In July you gave your last performance as a principal with American Ballet Theatre, the company you’ve been performing with since 2011. Later this summer you’re going to move to Austria to join Vienna State Ballet. How did you know that this was the moment to make a major change in your career as an artist?

It was kind of the perfect storm of having experienced injury and trying to reckon with the time that I have left to pursue ballet, the roles that I desire to dance, the places I want to travel, the way I want to grow as an artist. And really, I guess I just kind of realized I’m feeling a bit stuck. At the same time, ABT was my dream company, and New York is my dream city. So, it was kind of this bizarre feeling, “I have everything that I had dreamt of, I did it. And what is left for me to do?” I think I found myself just being curious. I’ve always been curious about living in Europe…I just didn’t know what that would look like.

I didn’t know if it would be a project that would take me away for a year, or some outside creative endeavor, because I do a lot of projects outside of [ABT]. I’ve had the privilege to work with choreographers and to do fun things outside of the classical ballet sphere. And I’ve always felt so fulfilled by those projects so I was thinking to myself, “I need to feel that way more.” And it’s not that there isn’t inspiration here, it’s just that for whatever reason, something in me sitting on my couch with my rib fracture and painkillers was like, “You need to seriously start thinking about what this next chapter of your career will be.”

How did that next chapter come into clearer focus for you?

I knew Alessandra Ferri was taking over Vienna [State Ballet], and Alessandra is someone who I have admired as a dancer and a person and an artist for as long as I’ve wanted to pursue dance. I approached her with the question, “How can we work together more?”

I said to her as a mentor, “I’m feeling a bit stuck. I don’t know what to do. I would love more opportunities to perform, to travel more, get really amazing coaching, just really get as true to myself in this art form as possible to be the best I can be.” And she said, “I think it sounds like you’re ready to explore.” And through more conversations, it became clear to me that this is someone that will help me hone all the skills I have to bring to this art form. And just the times that we’re in…to live in another country sounds so good. It’s funny to think of New York City and a company like American Ballet Theatre as a small town, but I almost feel like a kid again, leaving my small town in Georgia to pursue new things. And like I said, I’d been curious about Europe for quite some time, but just kind of waiting for the right thing to come along. There was an openness there. Other opportunities had come my way, but I felt like I was trying to force it to be the right thing. I wanted to want to say yes so desperately. But for whatever reason, in my gut, it was like, “No.” And they were great opportunities. Nothing that anybody should turn down necessarily.

But this, for whatever reason, just felt like yes. And the relief and the peace that came with finally saying yes outweighed the fear of uncertainty entirely. There’s still anxiety there, of course. There’s the logistics of moving across the world, and I’m grieving the end of this monumental chapter in my life. But also, deciding to do this has given me the courage to put myself out there more as a photographer, and to feel more fearless in my creative pursuits. I thought to myself, what do I want to accomplish before I leave New York? And sharing my photos in some capacity was right up there.

So, it’s cool. It’s cool to learn so much more about myself and what I’m made of, in this whole process of making the decision. It’s the first time that I’m going into a situation where I don’t know how long it’s going to last. I don’t even really know where I’m living yet. I don’t have a bank account there. It’s crazy in a lot of ways, but that’s why I have to do it. And the time is now. So, it’s exciting.