I first interviewed Gavin Hounslow, a company artist with Oregon Ballet Theatre, in September when I was in the process of writing a feature article about OBT’s new dancers for its Playbill. I expected to have a conversation with Gavin about the usual things I ask when writing a dancer profile:
- Where are you from?
- How’d you get started in dance?
- Where’d you train?
- What led you to OBT and how do you like it so far?
- What are you looking forward to this season and beyond?
But not long into our conversation, Gavin casually dropped some nuggets of info that threw me straight off my planned line of questioning.
After hearing that he’d grown up in Oklahoma, gotten a late start in ballet after an initial obsession with hip hop, and then spent a year in The Washington Ballet School and another one in the Houston Ballet Academy only to be quickly snapped up by Houston Ballet 2, I found out that weeks before on-site operations ceased due to Covid-19, Gavin voluntarily went into his own sort of quarantine.
He left Houston, traveled back to Oklahoma, and went to work on his family’s farm. He ended up staying there, living alone in a small camper on the property, herding cattle and plowing fields, for ten months.
What precipitated this dramatic move?
A confluence of elements made Gavin stop suddenly in his tracks, pulling the emergency brake on the accelerating pace of his ballet career. His body felt physically drained and painful which set off alarm bells for him spiritually and emotionally.
“Ever since I started in ballet, everything happened so fast,” he told me. “I never really thought, ’I want to be a ballet dancer.’ I just sort of fell into it. By the time I got to Houston, I felt like I was too deep into it to do anything else. But I was starting to feel burnt out. I was in a place where I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to pursue ballet anymore. I needed a change of some sort; I needed to resign.”
I was amazed at Gavin’s awareness at such a young age – stepping off the proverbial treadmill before it’s too late is something many people never have the bravery or conviction to do. I needed to know more.
So I asked if we could speak in more depth at a later date. I thought I understood what went into his decision to take a sabbatical from dance (although at the time, he did not know if he’d return), but I had many more questions: What was it like, physically and mentally, to quit ballet cold turkey and spend eight hours a day in a field shoveling manure instead of in a studio learning choreography?
Obviously, we know the end of the story – he returned to dance and joined a professional company – but how did the reverse process of farm-to-ballet happen?
Here is the second half of the “Gavin to Gavin” interview. For insight into how Gavin Hounslow discovered his own philosophy of ballet – and rediscovered his love of it – read on.
Interview with Gavin Hounslow
‣ Let’s pick up where we left off last time. I’m still marveling over the perfect timing of your sudden decision to leave Houston Ballet 2 just weeks before the Covid-19 quarantine forced everyone else to leave, too.
It was honestly divine intervention because I was very burnt out. It wasn’t until I’d been shoveling cow poop for months that I realized I really did miss it. And it just so happened that I came back to my family at the moment the entire world shut down.
It was honestly very beneficial to me. It helped me reflect on what I wanted out of this life, what art I wanted to pursue. While I took that break from ballet, I started studying tai chi, Chinese philosophy and medicine, learning how to mediate and breathe. That gave me a new perspective on movement as well as what I want in this life.
‣You told me in our earlier conversation that once you decided to come back to ballet, you actually got three job offers from the audition video you made which you prepared during one marathon session in a dance studio after not dancing for ten months.
I’m astounded that you were even able to DO a variation, let alone do it well enough to get jobs from what you filmed yourself doing. My burning question, for my own ballet-nerd brain: did you literally not do a plié or point your foot for ten months prior to that?
Well, okay… I didn’t take a class because I didn’t have the space. I was confined to this small camper where I was living. I did do some ballet, but I only practiced one thing… and that was fifth to fifth single pirouettes. Because that’s all I had the space to do. And it honestly really helped me, just in its very simple box.
That’s all I would do. I’d stretch once in a while. And I was doing hard physical labor. And there was a tennis court in the neighborhood, so some days during the summer I walked down to there in my tennis shoes and just jumped around. So I definitely still was moving, sweating, staying in shape.
I’d stretch at night and do a few yoga things online, but in terms of ballet, I just did those 5th to 5th pirouettes.
‣ Was that just spontaneous? Like, “I’m craving a fifth position pirouette right now…”?
Oh yeah. It was definitely spontaneous, and obsessive at points, too. I’d do that for maybe an hour and a half, just trying to get it so perfect. It really gave me a lot! Just really studying one move, where my balance might be. Not having a mirror at all gave me some interesting tools.
‣I love how you kept your technique pretty fine-tuned with just that one maneuver. Because pirouette from 5th is seemingly simple, but actually complex in all the coordinations that are involved and the timing of those coordinations. The exact placement, the physics of it. You can really hone in on all the forces in your body needed to make it just right. I can see how just doing that would keep you really ready to get back in.
It definitely kept me centered.
Another thing is being able to practice something without being in the usual ballet setting, without the pressure of needing to “get it” right away, of needing to improve and prove. All that kind of dissipated. It was more of an exploration of “How far can my weight be and stay on balance?” It became a lot more lighthearted, almost, when I was just doing it by myself.
‣I can see how it would also give you a different view of ballet as a whole. That more playful approach, zero pressure to do it within a combination or string of choreography… and no one’s looking at you and there are no constraints on you at all. I can see how that would change your relationship with ballet and allow you to see it more as a friendly thing that’s yours to possess and work with.
It changed from “I HAVE to do this, and I HAVE to get it,” to “I WANT to do this, and I WANT to see how close to perfect I can get it.” Even though the whole idea of perfection was thrown out the door, because March, April, and May of 2020 I had no idea I was even going to return to this space, so it really was more of a play time.
But in those months of introspection, I realized what had made me love dance. It was the community, the friends and the creative process.
‣ I can see why eventually that would make you yearn to play with it more again, but back in a professional setting. Was your decision to return sudden or gradual?
I guess it was a little gradual. I slowly did remember how good it felt to do that work in a big space… with high ceilings!
But in those months of introspection, I realized what had made me love dance. It was the community, the friends and the creative process.
I’d also been in a lot of pain – physically – back when I’d decided to quit. There were things in my body that were not necessarily being managed. I was working through a lot of soreness and injuries that didn’t quite heal well.
So, during my time away from ballet, I spent a lot of time doing yoga, stretching, lying on the floor breathing. And as just moving became more and more comfortable, as I became more flexible and my body began to heal, it was like, “Oh, I can jump and turn and it doesn’t hurt?”
‣How do you feel about all of that now that you are back into it more intensively? How does your body feel?
So two things I started to realize leaning into more meditation, breathing: Qigong type exercises really made me more sensitive to my body as a whole.
It made me understand how to manage pain in a psychological and a physical way, in terms of what pain is good, what pain is bad, and what pain is my mind generating what is not actually there. That was an interesting one that I didn’t necessarily think was going to be such a groundbreaking idea for me.
It made me realize how, as dancers, how much intuition we have in our bodies to begin with, as opposed to these elderly women I was taking the Qigong classes with. I needed a more internal understanding of where the movement is. Because in ballet, it’s very external: you’re looking in the mirror, whether your arm’s in the right place, if your hips are square with your shoulders.
But in Qigong, it’s about where the breath originates. Does it originate in your feet, and can you follow that through your body, out of your extremities? Can you kind of slow down and take notice of all these internal movements and how many of them there are?
I learned that I pirouette better when I’m in a good mood.
‣I can see why this kind of thinking would make something like a simple single pirouette from fifth position so fascinating.
Absolutely! As well as the breath… and playing with the coordination. If you inhale or exhale during the plié or during the relevé, or during the turn itself – maybe I’ll exhale during the plié this time, or exhale and see what, in my body, it feels like to change these things.
With that understanding, I got more sensitive to what was happening internally. Like, “Oh, why does that hurt to do this? Okay, my knee isn’t tracking, or my hip isn’t relaxing as much as it could be.” Really playing with the idea of which muscles are firing and which aren’t.
In Qigong, there’s the concept of yin and yang which is light and dark, or light and shadow. In a Western sense, they have a feminine and masculine connotation, but it’s more like what is active and passive. So some muscles are yin and some are yang. And if you can find the right balance, that’s where harmony and health comes from.
So I’d go through the checklist of which muscles are firing and which aren’t. In tai chi, your front body should be soft, because it’s yin and more nourishing, whereas your back should be hard – it’s more active and working. So you can also change those things, like making my front more active and my back more passive.
I’m studying which muscles are actually working and if they need to. So it was more about editing out what is overworking as opposed to adding on to what should be working.
‣That’s very much like what the famous teacher David Howard taught. He was very into the concepts of doing less, avoiding over engaging muscles, and efficiency of movement. Editing down the movement and the effort, which develops that smooth movement quality that not only looks effortless, but allows you to actually achieve the position and do the steps with fluidity, ease, and purity of line.
Yes! And another very interesting thing to think about is the gap between the mind and body. In the traditional Chinese sense, they are so connected that they manifest things in the other, like the mind can create damage if you don’t know how to deal with stress, if it settles into your subconscious and you neglect it.
I learned that I pirouette better when I’m in a good mood. So sometimes I’ll wake up anxious, and instead of doing warmup of getting ready, jogging, doing my ab exercises, I’ll just go sit by the river and just breathe. Reassess where my mind wants to be. I have to treat my subconscious like a child sometimes.
And though I’m not as warm for class as I could be, I end up having a much better class just because of where my mind is, and because I’m way more relaxed. I’m more observant now about the things I want to work on, whereas before my time away from dance, I’d hard-headedly go into anything 110% regardless of what I was feeling or where my body was. I just wanted to always do as much as I could.
I don’t believe in luck, but I do believe in destiny, and this space was created for me to inhabit.
‣It sounds like you are holding onto that more friendly relationship with ballet. Doing it on your own terms, within your own parameters.
Absolutely. And it’s very important for me to remember that. Because before, I would work myself up so much over not getting a combination in class, or not getting a part, but now… I can do my breathing every morning, I have a river to look out at, I have a much kinder relationship with ballet. There’s way more freedom, way more trust within the confines of what I want this art form to provide for me and what’s in it for me. So I like to remind myself that this is my dream job: I get to jump and turn and basically play for a lot of my job.
So moments where there is lightheartedness, or when I’m onstage, really remind me of where I was and how lucky I am to be able to come back so easily. I don’t believe in luck, but I do believe in destiny, and this space was created for me to inhabit. So with that, it’s hard for me to let go of those friends that I made, such as my breathing, my tools for class. They give me the love I need to come do this every day.
‣I think everyone should take this sort of “sabbatical” from dance. Sometimes it’s by choice; sometimes it’s forced by an injury or something. But having that time of distance allows a renewed perspective and redeveloped relationship with ballet. It’s crucial for every dancer so you don’t feel trapped in it.
Kudos to you for having the clarity and strength to realize what was happening. Not everyone does. I know quite a few people stay in ballet without realizing they are trapped and aren’t able to say, “Okay, I’m stepping away.” And it can end up being a bitter experience with a lot of trauma.
Essential. It was essential for me. Instead of ignoring feelings of anxiety, if you let those feelings have the floor and listen to them, you’ll understand what changes need to be made.
‣I’m so happy that you’re in a great place. You are very much on a wonderful, exciting path of discovery.
Thank you. This definitely feels like the start of another go-round. I feel like I’m starting over again, but with a lot of knowledge that I didn’t have before. It’s equal parts intimidating and exciting to be past that peak, only to see a bigger peak to climb. But with these tools, these friends I’ve made along the way, it definitely makes it easier to find those bigger peaks.
I could not be more grateful. This is the first year I’ve worked a full day of dance since 2019. And I’m really happy.
Featured Image of Gavin Hounslow by Cassie Smith.
