Hometown: Provo, Utah

Current city: Holladay (Salt Lake City), Utah

Age: 57 

Attended an arts high school? 

Did not have the pleasure of attending an arts high school; however, I had the good fortune to have BYU literally across the street from my high school so I was allowed to attend upper level ballet classes at BYU concurrently.

College and degree: Brigham Young University B.A. in University Studies (English, Humanities and Dance)

Graduate school and degree: Grad schools—Florida State University 1977-78;  M.A. BYU, 1983 (27 years old)

Website: www.ririewoodbury.com  

How you pay the bills: Education Director, Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company

All of the dance hats you wear: Trainer, administrator, booking manager, collaborator, mentor, teacher, choreographer, character dancer, tour mother

Non-dance work you do: Raising my family has been such a surprise to me.  I always knew I wanted children, but I assumed I would have a career and define myself through that.  As I look back, I have had more challenges, satisfaction and fun being with my kids than anything else. I am anxiously awaiting the birth of our first grandchild at the end of March!

20s: 

My dance life in my 20s began in very familiar territory—the dance building at Brigham Young University.  I had already been attending classes there during high school, so the sounds and smells, the studios and the locker room were all comfortable to me.  I lived to dance.  My parents’ home was about 2 miles away from campus, so I spent the mornings in class, the afternoons in the studio for technique and the evenings in rehearsal.  I rolled home around 9 or 10pm, ate a cold dinner (which I grew to love; I still don’t need to eat hot food) and struggled to keep my eyes open while I read the Canterbury Tales or tried to figure out my formal logic problems.

I took technique and ballet classes daily, folk dance three times a week, and taught adults beginning ballet and kids in the BYU Children’s Dance program.  I galloped out of college in 3 years with a degree in University Studies; as much as I loved to dance, I also loved English and the Humanities.  Those subjects were my three areas of focus—like getting 3 minors.  I thought it would be great preparation for a new love I had developed when I took a summer workshop at the Harvard Dance Center—Dance History.  In, 1977 when I was 21, I was accepted at UCLA to study Dance History.  My life was turned upside down when I took a summer dance workshop at BYU just before leaving to go to UCLA (I had my dorm assignment and everything!).  The guest artists for the workshop were 2 of the 3 members of the Theatre Dance Trio—Lynda Davis and Carol Warner.  I had felt very nurtured and cared for in the dance program at BYU, but never had I seen or studied with anyone like them.  They were brilliant, powerful, and strong women with a clear sense of who they were as artists.  Carol Warner was on the faculty at UCLA and Lynda Davis taught at Florida State University.  Carol refused to allow me to go to UCLA; she said that the department had been in a slump and that I had no business studying dance history at that point in my life—I should dance.  She told me to go to FSU and study with Lynda.  Lynda “auditioned” me based on my performance in the workshop and recommended that I receive a scholarship.  This was in mid-August, and as I said, I had my dorm assignment at UCLA.  I had never been to Florida before.  On the strength of Lynda Davis’s recommendation, I was given an out-of-state tuition waiver in lieu of a scholarship and I headed to Tallahassee, Florida the third week of September without a place to stay and knowing no one.

I eventually found a place to stay and immediately found my dance home at FSU.  Since I was working on my MFA, I only rarely left the Montgomery Gym.  The dance program there was like a conservatory; we had daily modern technique taught by either former Graham or Cunningham dancers from New York.  We had composition class daily and a graduate seminar with Dr. Nancy Smith (Fichter).  I had never been in such an artistically and intellectually alive climate.  And it was my first time living away from home for longer than a month.  I loved every minute of it.

Then Ted Bundy showed up.  After his rampage at the sorority house at FSU, he broke into a duplex down the street.  He attacked the girl who stood next to me at the barre in ballet every day.  Her friend living next door heard the struggle, called, and scared him away.  Somehow she managed to survive and identify her assailant in the trial.  And for some reason after they caught Bundy they wanted me to help identify him in a line up.  I declined.  It’s always been a mystery why somehow I was connected to him.  I knew then what it meant to feel vulnerable.  After 7 months in the dance program, I left and returned home to marry my high school sweetheart.  I had reconciled myself to the fact that my former dream—to go to NYC to dance in a professional company—would never happen.  I would be happy to teach dance at a university, like my favorite BYU teacher, Abby Fiat, had.  I returned home, enrolled in the graduate dance program at BYU, got an assistantship, got married, and settled.  I mean, settled down.  I think.

Towards the end of the winter semester at BYU, I noticed an announcement for an audition for the Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company on the bulletin board.  It was at the same time that I was giving a final exam.  I figured it was not meant to be.  At the beginning of the summer my husband and I left for Washington, D.C. so he could intern with our Congressman.  I had scouted out a good dance studio and had planned to take classes. I got a phone call while we were there from Shirley Ririe.  She wondered if I would be willing to go to the Nikolais studio in New York to audition for their company.  I was dumbfounded.  How did they find me?  Why me?  But absolutely I would go!  Actually, the rest is history.  Weird history.  A Utah-based company finds a Utah girl in Washington, DC, auditions her in NYC, flies her back to Utah to rehearse for 2 weeks, flies her back to Washington, DC so she can drive back to Utah with her husband.  Whew.

And I’m only to 23.

I danced with the Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company for 2 short/long years.  I grabbed everything I could during that time.  I watched the brilliant teachers Shirley and Joan teach kids, teachers, dads, firemen, senior citizens—anyone interested  and in all kinds of settings.  They were in their heyday; the National Endowment for the Arts and the Artist-in-the-Schools program loved the company and we were in residencies all over the country for months at a time.  Some company members never had apartments because they were gone so much; they just couch-surfed when we were home for a few days.  I soaked up all that I could; I watched the dancers perform when I wasn’t on stage or rehearsing and I watched everyone teach at any opportunity.  I knew I wouldn’t be in the company long; David wanted to start law school.  After 2 years I finished reluctantly, David was accepted at law school, and I was asked to join the dance faculty at BYU.  And I was 25.

I taught at BYU for three years; I put my husband through law school since full time faculty members got full tuition benefits for their spouses.  Yay!  It was another rich ad fruitful time for me.  I taught and performed and choreographed.  And I became a mother.  Connor was born as I was finishing my thesis and my second year of teaching.  I was 27.  And I began to have the first inkling that my dance life as I had known it was about to experience a seismic shift.  Gone were the days of running off to a dance class when I wanted.  My life was no longer my own.  

After 3 years at BYU, we moved to Las Vegas where my husband had a judicial clerkship.  I had a contract with the UNLV dance department as guest artist for the year. It was another year of growth and challenge.  I started a student lecture-demonstration company that performed in schools.  I choreographed a work that was performed at ACDF/UCLA; I performed in a piece set by a popular Vegas choreographer and original cast member of the movie, “West Side Story.”  I taught strip dancers—not dancers that “stripped” but dancers that worked on the “Strip.”  Interesting.  At the end of the year David got another, more prestigious clerkship and we moved to Reno.  I taught at the University of Nevada at Reno, co-founded the Sierra Repertory Dance Theatre, and had my second child, Elyse.   And I was 30.

30s:

My dance life in my thirties was about time management and where in the world do I find a babysitter in the middle of the day?  We moved to Phoenix, Arizona, bought a house and went about the business of setting down roots.  I taught children in the community center near my home; I tried to convince the ASU dance department that I would be an asset to their program and that we should try to develop a children’s creative dance program at their university. Apparently it was not a priority.  But after a few months I was invited to join aludwigco dance theater.  The founder, Ann Ludwig, was a professor at ASU and also directed the company.  I enjoyed working with Ann Ludwig and Beth Lessard, another pair of passionate and creative women.  In the middle of preparing for our fall season, I found I was pregnant with my third child.    This would be the first time I experienced rehearsing and performing as a pregnant dancer.  Eventually, costumes had to be altered; luckily we were in the 80s and shoulder pads (that helped balance out my shifting proportions) were acceptable additions to clothing. At 7 months, I performed in a work, “The Widows of Pleasant Valley.”  My character was a widowed pregnant woman (obviously).  It was challenging physically and emotionally.  I remember worrying whether the adrenalin bath that my baby was experiencing opening night was going to wreak havoc  in her later life.

Hannah was born healthy and strong several months later.  Dancing in my 30s may have been more logistically challenging because my life had become more complicated; however, the quality of my dance deepened and I think I really began to know what it meant to be an artist.  Even though I never had enough time.  During this period my mother would often say, “There is a time for everything.  Enjoy this time with your kids.  You’ll have time for the other things later.”  It should have been good advice; we didn’t know that there wouldn’t be much of a “later.”

We moved back to Utah and I threw myself into dance with many of my old friends from BYU; I performed with Contemporary Dance Works and tried to get my kids who were not in school to a babysitter so I could take class at the University of Utah.  For the next few years, this would be the frustration of my life—trying to get to class.  And I added another child to my brood—Gwynne came along when I was 36.  At that point, I gave into motherhood and enjoyed the ride.  I turned my attention to teaching at my children’s school whenever one of their teachers would allow me to.

I enjoyed wonderful associations with several teachers who saw the value of what dance can do for children.  In my 30s I developed my strong commitment to the value of dance and arts education and I was determined that my children and their friends would have it in their school.  The end of my 30s was marked by continuing knee troubles—swelling, pain and difficulty getting down and up from the floor.

40s and 50s:

I was 41 when Ririe-Woodbury called again.  I had just had two knee surgeries and had been given the news that I could no longer dance—just swim and play golf.  I was deeply depressed.  Even with surgery, my knees swelled and ached every time I tried to take a dance class. My performing life was over sooner than I had ever imagined.  I became the education director for RW and tried to convince myself that at least working for a dance company would be better than no dance at all.  A year or two went by, and I was asked to play the role of the “Shy Hag” in the children’s show, “The Shy Hag’s Magic Shadow Show.”  It was challenging in a different way and I had to bring what little dramatic talent I had to rehearsals and performance.  It was successful, and a few years later I was included in the development process of a new Kid’s Show, “On the Move,” where I was the main character.  I had become Ririe-Woodbury’s resident character actor/dancer.  I also developed the show, “Mama Eddy’s Right on Boarding House,” where I played Mama Eddy—the woman who kept a boarding house filled with strange people.  My swan song was narrating the kids’ show, “Circle Cycle.”  This role required no dancing, but intense memorization.  I had a monologue that continued throughout the show that had to be delivered with almost perfect timing so the slides that were vital to the production would  appear on the cyc at the right moment.  This was an incredible challenge because at this point I was in my 50s and my memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been.  Besides performing in the children’s shows, I grew as a teacher.  I enjoyed teaching kids in school but I also enjoyed teaching the dancers how to teach children. 

Can you share a little about your job as Director of Education? What does a typical day or week look like? How did you develop the administrative skills for your position?

My position as Education Director was offered to me at a time when I was right in the middle of raising my children.  A full-time job was out of the question for me; my kids were wonderful and challenging.  Some had significant struggles that required me to be available at any time.  I was very lucky that my husband was able to provide for our family and I didn’t have to work.  But the job as education director was offered to me with an understanding that I could do much of the administrative work from home.  So on a typical day, I would get the kids off to school, get Gwynne interested in something, hope the dogs wouldn’t bark and make phone calls ad nauseam to school secretaries and principals.  I wasn’t given a job description nor much information on how to do my job; I gained my administrative experience over time and I learned, made mistakes, built networks and gained confidence.

As my children have grown and I have become more comfortable with the ins and outs of my job, my typical week is a bit more conventional.

I am part-time but must have the availability of a full-time employee.  That means, I have to be able to be gone for several weeks throughout the year, I have to be able to work every day all day at various times in the school year, and I have to be available for rehearsals when needed.  I now work in an office at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center in Salt Lake City.

My job requires me to oversee all of our educational programs and outreach.  I manage and schedule our POPS program (Professional Outreach Performances in Schools).  The Utah legislature gives line item funding to Utah arts groups which have a on-going education outreach program.  This funding allows us to dedicate at least 8 weeks of our year to educational activities.  We do school residencies, lecture-demonstrations, rural touring, teacher workshops, the Capitol Theatre children’s show ( a fully-produced , one hour show for school children and families; free to all public school students in Utah), high school choreography residencies and biweekly  master classes for high school students.  Each year, I take a week in the summer to focus on the teaching skills of our dancers.  I set up classes for them to “practice” on, I bring in guest teachers so they can observe new teaching styles, and I give them resource materials to help them plan lessons and feedback on their teaching.  I have been honored to have worked for almost 17 years with some of the most dedicated and caring dancers who have become sensitive and imaginative teachers.  Many of them had no interest in teaching children; many of them never will after they leave our company.  But they all have developed great respect for the capacity of children and the gift it is to teach them.  They all have commented on the fact that teaching children makes teaching any other population easy (I agree; children are brutally honest and will be bored if you treat them condescendingly or don’t give them enough to challenge them).  Teaching children also hones choreographic skills and encourages dancers to look for ideas “outside of the box.”

Pose 2 questions you would love young dancers to consider.

How do I find my own, authentic voice as a dancer when popular media is filled with so many distractions?

How can dance be relevant in modern life?

How would you describe the modern dance scene in Salt Lake right now?

In my opinion, the dance scene in Salt Lake is in transition.  I think dance, and perhaps all of the arts, are trying to find ways to keep relevant—especially in the lives of young people.  RW, RDT and even Ballet West all are struggling to appeal to younger audiences who will fill the seats of the old guard who felt it was a social requirement to be seen at the opera or ballet.  I think dance has to provide something vital and new, and there are individuals and groups that are working to make this happen.  Charlotte Boye-Christensen, former artistic director of RW, has a new company in Salt Lake called NOW which had a very successful first season last July.  She is bringing in dancers from around the country and the world, collaborating with local and international artists, and experimenting with new venues for dance.  Daniel Charon, a former Doug Varone dancer, has taken over the artistic directorship for RW and is interested in the power of social media and media itself as it relates to dance.  Even as I retire at the end of this year, I am excited to see what the future holds for dance here in Salt Lake City.

Final advice for young dancers:

Prepare for tomorrow; dance like there is no tomorrow.