As the Dance Community Struggles Financially During COVID, Performers Suffer the Most

Like many dancers, Robert Moore has lost performance space, students and peers in the ongoing pandemic. Photo credit: Michael Stadler.

Robert Moore—a 27-year-old contemporary dancer in Seattle who also performs ballet—is relying on unemployment aid during the pandemic, and for that, he considers himself lucky.

“With unemployment, I felt fortunate to have gotten through. Another friend of mine couldn’t,” he says, because so many people were applying and overwhelming the system. Most dancers, he explains, are self-employed, scrambling for money and struggling every year to pay taxes. “Some of us are making more money on unemployment,” he says. But for most professional dancers like Moore, the pandemic has added yet another layer of financial peril, and prevented them from practicing their life’s work.

Moore, who has been dancing for 23 years, also teaches. But his classes are all online now, which imposes new requirements. “I’m not totally out of shape, but there have been a lot of adjustments,” he says. “No travel, no big jumps.” Dancers shut out of their normal venues, he adds, must adapt to outdoor and solo performances if they want work. 

“I definitely look forward to the pandemic being over,” Moore says. “There is a lot of grief.” He knows three people who died recently, two from COVID and another whose family was unable to hold a funeral amid the health crisis. He’s also seen some of his students lose interest in dance. “It’s tough to see kids studying dance quit because they have no motivation without a chance to perform.”

Another big blow was the police killings of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd and other Black Americans, which prompted nationwide outrage and protests about structural racism over the past year. As the pandemic continued, these tragic deaths were a heavy burden on Moore, who is Black.

“I was scared and fed up with the fact that [Black] people are still being killed unjustly, especially when we’re supposed to be doing our best to help people stay alive,” Moore says. “I found it difficult to engage in work that didn’t have something to do with this issue. There was a reckoning in the dance world about whitewashing and racism toward cultures other than white. There is a lot of inequity. We need to talk about these atrocities.”

Many predominantly white dance organizations, Moore adds, “have a history of not commenting on these killings and how it affects the well-being of their Black employees. They were slow to react until pressured.”

Since the start of the pandemic, we’ve seen a number of philanthropic efforts emerge to support the performing arts community, and many fundraisers are adapting to meet the moment. But fields like dance have been hard hit, with donations and revenues becoming unreliable at best. Individual dancers like Moore have suffered far more in the pandemic than the choreographers and nonprofit dance organizations with fan bases or the infrastructure to attract contributions from individuals, foundations and corporations, says Melissa Riker, artistic director of New York’s Kinesis Project, a dance theater.

“Dancers have been isolated at home and are trying to stay resilient and positive with very little support,” she says. “The pandemic has exposed the tenuous existence of what was already a fragile sector, and many people don’t understand how dramatically this is impacting dance artists.”

To help dancers, many of whom are leaving New York, and their organizations, Riker and her colleagues formed Dance Rising, a new movement to build awareness for New York’s vibrant dance community. So far, Dance Rising has raised $8,000 and is soliciting another $205,000 from individuals and private foundations to bring visibility to the dance industry.

Ballet Hispanico, a 50-year-old New York company, is surviving the pandemic with help from 10 grantmakers who had committed money to programs canceled by the pandemic. “We asked if they’d be willing to let us use the money for general operating support, and they all said yes,” says lead fundraiser Lorraine LaHuta.    

Other dance and performing arts companies aren’t faring as well. Before the pandemic, Jump Rhythm, a small company in Chicago, had scaled back its operations to just two performers and an executive director. A 2020 year-end solicitation brought in $5,000, down from the typical returns of up to $9,000. The money raised barely covers expenses. “Our performers have not been paid for a long time, and they are giving with nothing in return,” says Suzanne Scott, executive director. “I’m certain we are not the only small company in this situation.”

Scott says she knows many out-of-work people in New York’s arts community. “Nobody’s working and there is no Plan B,” she says. “My friends are angry and incredibly frustrated about how to explain to their kids, month after month, why they can’t go to school. The emotional and financial toll is almost too much.”

The resurgent push for racial justice has generated new support for some organizations, like the Dance Theatre of Harlem, which won a $4 million grant from the Mellon Foundation and a chunk of the $156 million contributed by 16 major donors and foundations to Black, Latinx, Asian and Indigenous arts groups last year. In addition, Dance Theatre of Harlem expects to meet its goal of raising $2.4 million in the fiscal year ending on June 30, down from $3 million in normal times.

“We had a virtual gala in October that went well and replaced a live event in the spring,” says Ebonie Pittman, the Harlem ballet’s senior director of development. “People pre-registered for free. We had 2,800 new names that we put in our system. We had two platforms: one free and the other in which you could buy a virtual table and sit in a Zoom room with your guests.” The virtual event raised less than its live counterpart, she adds, “but we exceeded our goal for it.”

Still, the online event was expensive, Pittman says. The Harlem ballet had to invest in videotaping dancers, and it also commissioned works from paid choreographers.

The Washington Ballet, a 76-year-old organization, is also pleased with the results of an online family tea. The virtual event replaced two live events at the prestigious Willard Hotel that coincide with the ballet’s annual performance of “The Nutcracker.” The in-person family teas typically draw about 300 people, according to Mary Bounds, the ballet’s associate director of development.

The Washington Ballet delivered 272 tea kits to 76 households that paid to attend with multiple family members. Depending on how much each household gave, the kits contained tea, sandwiches, an arts and crafts project for children and, in some cases, champagne and flowers for especially generous parents. Says Bounds: “We got rave reviews.”

With virtual events, she says, “we have a bigger reach. We were getting out-of-town grandparents. We can see how many people are online, how long people are watching, and allow this to inform us. There are silver linings in this digital moment.” Like many other dance organizations, the Washington Ballet plans to continue holding virtual events after the pandemic subsides. “This is an exciting way to keep donors and ticket holders engaged,” Bounds says.

Chicago’s Hubbard Street Dance reports better-than-expected returns by offering films of live performances for free—but suggesting a donation in each film. For example, it projected that one film would generate $5,000 in donations, but $10,000 came in. “By making it free and suggesting a donation during the films, we saw much more generosity,” says David McDermott, the dance company’s executive director. “Instead of buying a $10 ticket, many people donated much more.”

Some dance companies have avoided holding virtual fundraising events. AirDance New Mexico, a tiny company specializing in trapeze and other forms of aerial dance, raised $600 by holding a low-cost photo shoot at a local farm so students who take aerial dance classes could get their pictures taken. “Parents are already talking about the next time, so we will make this annual or seasonal, for sure,” says Joanna Furgal, the company’s executive director.

AirDance has also continued its in-person classes, albeit with fewer students. “Arts are seen as a luxury,” Furgal says. “But so many of my students have said that dance class is not a luxury. It is self-care, part of how they handle their mental health.”

In July, Dance/USA, a national service organization for professional dance, lowered its annual membership fee to just $25 so dance professionals could remain members regardless of their financial status, and new members can join and connect with peers. It has also been convening members for discussions on topics such as how and when to safely resume live performances.

More than a year before last summer’s protests over racial inequality, Dance/USA started a program to provide direct support to artists working through dance to address social change. By loosening up existing fellowship requirements and adopting new criteria, Dance/USA identified 31 dancers whose artistry was rewarded with five-figure grants for each person. Their contributions to dance and the traditions underpinning their work are the subject of a free new book released recently. The program has just been renewed.

Apart from growing success with online fundraising events, there are other good things about the pandemic for dance organizations, says Danielle St. Germain-Gordon, chief development officer at San Francisco Ballet, which lost about $10 million in ticket sales after canceling performances in March. The ballet created an emergency relief fund to raise $5 million, a goal it reached shortly after its fiscal year ended in June. To get through the pandemic, the ballet has adopted pay cuts and is keeping a watchful eye on expenses with a staff of 78 dancers and a full orchestra.

What’s gratifying to St. Germain-Gordon now is that dancers and musicians—who normally don’t interact with administrative staff—have been helping her and her team raise money in the pandemic. For example, a principal dancer from mainland China reached out to suggest that the ballet hold a virtual event this month to celebrate the Lunar New Year. The ballet is moving forward with the idea by holding two online events, one for lower-level donors and patrons and a separate one for donors who give $25,000. The latter group will receive a home-delivered dim sum meal.

“We’ve had dancers and board and staff raising money from their networks,” says St. Germain-Gordon. “This has been a coalescing moment for the company.” 

Working with dancers who attend virtual events with donors, she adds, “is like seeing still photos of them in our building come to life. We are engaging people much more with them. When you put dancers with donors, it is magic.”