This image is from my journal entry on the night of March 12, 2020, hours after hearing from Juilliard’s President that the school would be closing for the rest of the semester. I did not have many words that night, but within the muck and chaos of my head, I was only able to interpret this form onto the paper. As a senior, I felt that my entire 3 and ¾ years had culminated into these last
remaining weeks, and I was so eager to soak up all of the special performances and sentimental moments that would tie a perfect bow on the package that was my Juilliard experience. And within a matter of moments, I had just lost the most precious gift: time. My education had come to a sudden halt; an ending that I was not expecting and was not prepared for.
As I looked down at the paper on my lap, I was struck by two thoughts. First, I noticed how minuscule that unfinished space was in comparison to the rest of the existing shape. I was reminded that this eight percent amount of time that I was fixated on did not discount the other beautiful ninety-two percent. I had still carried out the majority of my Juilliard experience, and it had fostered irreplaceable, lifelong friendships and mentorships, a heightened sense of self-awareness, and immense growth as an individual and artist. And yet, I also realized that some might look at this shape and argue it could not even be called a circle. That space may be tiny, but it held so much weight. I was reminded of a quote from my teacher, Risa, that she would often share in her Limón technique class: “The ending of one step is the beginning of the next.” How could I possibly discover a new beginning without this essential ending? How could I bear to move forward without any sense of completion or closure to all that was, all that had led up to this moment? I went to sleep unsure of how to move forward or how to reconcile this new, misshapen reality.
Now, after a little over two weeks have passed, I have returned to look at this first journal entry. So much has changed even in this short amount of time, and the gravity of the global crisis has become more palpable. These past weeks have felt like a mad dash trying to catch up with the ever-evolving updates and restrictions being announced around the world, and I just now feel like I am slowly starting to find my footing. Moments of virtual meetups with my dance Class of 2020 and online classes offered by our unfailing and generous Juilliard dance faculty are what have kept me moving forward and maintaining high spirits. There are still lingering feelings of hurt and loss towards that unfinished space, and I am still grappling with how to come to terms. However, as I was reflecting on my “unfinished circle”, I realized that this figure was such an insufficient illustration of what my Juilliard experience had been. The biggest shortcoming in my perspective was not represented by the empty space, but rather in the figure that existed on the page itself. My experience at Juilliard was anything but symmetrical; it could not be so easily drawn out and was definitely not any identifiable shape. It was full of highs and lows, twists and turns, sharp curves and steep bends.
This may not be the ordinary or the ideal way to end my college experience, but the Juilliard dance class of 2020 is no stranger to the unconventional. It feels that at every turn we made, we came upon the unexpected. Within our time in the dance division, we have been under three different directors. We were in school during the time of transition from former President Joseph Polisi to current President Damien Wetzel. At the beginning of the school year, we had to say goodbye to our beloved associate director, but in January gained an incredible new addition to our community. In many ways, our time at Juilliard has been heavily shaped by change and transition, but we have always held tight to each other and have found solace by committing ourselves fully to our craft. Also, these circumstances have given us a valuable perspective that things are always fluid, that even inside a conservatory, there is room for growth and the need for restructuring. Because of this, we were never afraid to use our voices as a class to stand up for the things we believed in and wanted. With each new transition, we were given an opportunity to speak our minds and have an impact on the program, and in some ways, this helped us feel we had some control in a situation where our realities were constantly shifting. While this was challenging, I now realize that this opportunity, which came out of our rare set of circumstances, was a gift.
On a more personal note, my time at Juilliard was full of high highs and low lows. I have gone through some of my most formidable personal battles and experienced some of my greatest joys. I gained 23 colleagues that will be my lifelong family, and we created some incredibly special memories. I had many wonderful performance opportunities, some of which were collaborative and innovative in ways that deeply inspired me. Others were intimidating and highly demanding, but with the support of my faculty and friends, I was able unlock new potential in myself that I did not believe was there. I was forced to confront my perfectionism that has burdened me since I was little and understand how to use it in a way that was productive and not harmful. I learned a much deeper sense of empathy and understanding for the uniquely individual journeys that every person goes through. I realize that I even owe my individual experience so much more than a basic circle gives credit for.
As I sit on my couch in my home in North Carolina, I am not where I thought I would be on this day. Tonight would have been the closing night of our “Spring Dances” concert, and then the 2020 class would have been moving forward into arguably some of the most special and sentimental times of our Juilliard career. In talking with a fellow classmate the other day, I jokingly said “With everything else that has happened to our class, this feels like a fitting way for our last year to end.” While in the moment, I expressed this in the vain of pessimism and pettiness, I now realize this could be a profound new outlook. What if all of the tiny battles the Class of 2020 faced were preparing us for this moment? We have become familiar with the unexpected and have learned how to take it on with optimism, and often a little humor, and I believe this time will be no different. We have been given the opportunity of a blank slate, the ability to write our own ending to our 4 years, and while it is not ideal or in the traditional way, I have no doubt that my class will find a way.
With the help of my classmate Lúa’s incredible artistic hand, I have reimagined a new image to incapsulate my Juilliard experience. Each individual figure brings me back to a specific memory: I smile, I cry, I soak it all up. Though my ending dot still remains unconnected, I have faith that one way or another, I will find my way back; but for now, I must discover a way to embrace this unforeseen detour, hold tight to what and who I love, and take advantage of this time of reflection and gratitude for all that was, is still, and will be.
