Local New York City Ballet alum lifts the darkness from dance in new book

By most accounts, there is beauty in dance. Beyond the visual appeal of that human movement, the observer might be captivated by the dedication and discipline of the dancer, or enchanted with the perfect pairing of motion with music. Perhaps this is why there seems to be particular fascination with any dark side the dance space might possess: it seems to run so contrary to what the art offers at first blush.

Daniel Island resident Deanna McBrearty fell into the arms of dance at the age of 10, before the wearing off of most innocence and the infiltration of any cynicism. Though her move from the living room “studio” of her first instructor to the halls of the nation’s most prestigious dance schools seemed fluid, seamless, and presupposed, it was actually propelled by an odds-defying drive and high tolerance for hard knocks. Battling scoliosis, logistical hurdles, and financial setbacks, McBrearty elbowed obstacles from her path to becoming a celebrated dancer on a world-class stage.

But just as uncompromising as her determination was her integrity. She would not achieve greatness as a dancer on the shoulders of her ballet peers, but neither would she step on them on her way to the top. In this way, her vision and strategy were nearly myopic: it was her commitment to hours in the studio, it was her body she needed to properly fuel, it was her willingness to accept critique – and use it for good. It was not that she wasn’t engaged with her fellow dancers; indeed, they’d become some of her best friends. McBrearty simply had the remarkable maturity to focus effort on the one thing she knew she could control: herself.

It was an approach that took her to the top. In 1992, she was accepted into the New York City Ballet, where she would dance in featured and principal roles for over a decade. Concurrently, she appeared onscreen, from Late Show with David Letterman to Columbia Pictures’ “Center Stage,” and modeled for famed fashion designer Geoffrey Beene. Following a fond farewell from the NYCB, McBrearty went on to choreograph two popular children’s dance-a-long videos for Mattel Entertainment, Inc.’s, “Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses” and “Barbie as the Island Princess.”

She also worked in the fitness space, training such celebrities as Kelly Ripa and Christy Turlington and creating dance-inspired video workouts. In the spring of 2008, McBrearty and her husband, Steve Parker, decided to leave New York City with the notion to raise children in Charleston’s island town (they now have two children: Cohen, 7, and Isla, 9). Keeping her toes ever-dipped in ballet, McBrearty continued to contribute to numerous dance publications, coach and mentor with the Dance Conservatory of Charleston, and help train the next generation of dancers here on Daniel Island.

As her career transitioned from company performer to industry advocate and educator, McBrearty found herself contemplating her formative dance days in the rear-view mirror at the same time another perspective was being reflected in the media. From the artful to the gratuitous, movies such as “Black Swan” and television series like “Flesh and Bone” highlight dance paths that are navigated less gracefully. Depicting a culture that encourages eating disorders, fosters bitter rivalries, and offers gateways to addiction, such storylines seemed to be upstaging the foundational dignity of dance. For her part, McBrearty acknowledged ballet’s risks and rough edges, but the increasingly ubiquitous production and publication of that seedier side ran counter to what she knew to be dance’s lifelong gifts. She decided to give voice to the other side.

In early May, McBrearty’s first book, “Start With This,” launched as that voice. The volume is part memoir, part self-improvement, marrying extraordinary life experiences of the author with invaluable life lessons for humankind. Unlike other contemporary film and print works about dance, McBrearty’s is a tale less cautionary, more inspirational. Still, she isn’t afraid to confront the perils of the competitive ballet world; her anecdotes of unyielding company managers, chilly ballet mistresses, and dubious peers certainly parallel the intimidation depicted in darker works. And her stories don’t always have a happy ending – she doesn’t always land the role, get the job, or hug it out. But where other tales take the audience further down a salacious spiral, McBrearty’s shepherds her readers toward a meaningful takeaway.

At the conclusion of each chapter is a “spotlight lesson,” offering an analysis of the experience shared in that section followed by questions to evoke self-reflection in the reader. For instance, a story illustrating a moment where McBrearty had achieved two career aims but could only pursue one ends with a “spotlight” on putting yourself in the driver’s seat while recognizing others may not agree with your navigation. And the lesson to consider? Honor your own truths and be decisive. Sounds simple enough, but with the foundation of the author’s conflict – told in a manner that is both candid and compelling - the reader gains the full context of that advice.

To the casual observer, Deanna McBrearty’s life to this point may seem charmed, leaving one to wonder how she would be equipped to challenge the darkness in the world of dance. And to this assumption she would not respond with defensiveness or denial. She would, and does, simply tell her story and the lessons she learned along the way. The fact that she did not fall prey to drug abuse, self-starvation, or deviant behavior was neither a mistake nor a mission. To McBrearty, inferring pervasiveness - rather than presence - of these dance demons is perhaps the worst misstep. Any dancer, or dreamer, can find relief in her humility, humor in her candor, awe in her journey and, of course, lessons in her analysis. One of those lessons just happens to be that ballet is still beautiful.

“Start With This” is now available for sale, in paperback with free ebook, on Amazon. Learn more about the author at www.deannamcbrearty.com.

Daniel Island Publishing

225 Seven Farms Drive
Unit 108
Daniel Island, SC 29492 

Office Number: 843-856-1999
Fax Number: 843-856-8555

 

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