$40,000.
Every time I look at that number, I have a slight moment of panic.
That’s roughly what it costs to make our 2026 New York performances happen.
And when I say $40,000, I think it’s easy to imagine that I’m talking about the cost of two performances in October.
I’m not.
We don’t just show up at the theater and hope for the best.
This show has been in the making for the last year.
Finding a theater. Deciding on rep. Checking in with dancers. Finding new dancers when someone gets injured. Scheduling rehearsals. And more rehearsals. Renting studio space. Working with composers. Revisiting dances. Changing dances. Putting dances back together.
Long before anyone walks into the theater, we’ve already been working.
And spending.
One rehearsal can cost us nearly $1,000.
Before I even walk through the studio door, the rehearsal space has been paid for.
The moment the dancers walk through that door, they must be paid too.
That part is nonnegotiable.
This past Sunday, we finally had the full company together in rehearsal. We were working to get Out of the void; Into new light back on its feet, and I watched these dancers push through the material with what somehow looked like ease.
That’s where I’m happiest spending the money.
On them.
Because they walk into the room ready to pour their full selves into the work.
And if we’re going to say Artists First | Artist Forward, I believe our budget has to prove it.
Every artist in the room gets paid.
Whether they’re a college student gearing up to perform with us (more on that soon!) or the most seasoned professional in the room, their time is valuable.
The “starving artist” narrative has no place here.
Does the amount of money we need for artist compensation scare me?
Absolutely.
More than $24,000 of our season budget goes toward paying artists.
And to be completely honest, they should be paid more.
But we do what we can. We don’t waste anyone’s time or energy. And I will not build a company that depends on dancers working for free.
Because time matters.
I think about Shadow Dance.
Composer Eric Dietz and I had quite the task ahead of us: creating a new score and navigating revisions to a dance that had already been made.
We could have rushed it.
Instead, we took our time.
I was able to keep bringing Jared and Mary Lyn into the room. We could build, edit, listen, try again and figure out how the movement could support Eric’s new music while also allowing the music to support the dance.
What came out of that process is something I think is absolutely stunning.
But it required time.
And time in a rehearsal room costs money.
This is also bigger than RMD.
Professional dancers in New York are freelancers.
And we are some of the most creative people I know when it comes to figuring out how to make this life work.
Being a professional dancer isn’t just about showing up for someone else in the studio. It’s about figuring out how to show up for yourself outside of it.
Many of us work many, many jobs in order to keep dancing. We work crazy hours.
Me?
I’m a big early-morning coaching type of guy.
Those 4 a.m. wake-ups aren’t just because that’s when the work is.
They’re because I refuse to let that work get in the way of my time in the studio.
I know the dancers around me make their own versions of that choice every day.
So when someone gives RMD $25, $100, $500 or $1,000, they aren’t just helping me put on a show.
They’re helping keep people creative, active and engaged in the arts.
They’re buying us time.
Time to rehearse.
Time to experiment.
Time to get something wrong and try it again.
Time for eight artists to show up and give their full selves to this work.
Our goal is to raise $15,000 toward our 2026 New York Season.
And yes, that number scares me too.
But if we’re going to put artists first, we have to invest in them first.
That’s what your contribution makes possible.
See you in the studio,
Robert