In an interview series, we offer a look behind the scenes of the dance world, where passion, ambitions and challenges converge. Today we share the story of Livia, former dancer, pilates and yoga teacher, and mother.
Written by Lara Sala
“Dance is not what you do. Dance is who you are,
and it stays with you for your whole life.”
I rush into the beach tent in Bergen aan Zee and see Livia already seated. Dancers do not arrive late; they are accompanied by an iron discipline.
Taking the first “dance” steps
When I ask her when she started dancing, Livia answers enthusiastically, “From a very young age. My older sister was very creative and made choreographies for me and my twin brother. We organized performances in the living room.”
Livia took her first dance lessons at a cultural center in her hometown in the former Yugoslavia. “When a professional ballet academy opened, my teacher took me there personally. I was tested physically: my feet, turning, flexibility. Everything was satisfactory and at age 10 I was admitted to the Vaganova Ballet School in Subotica.”
She continues: “It was immediately five days a week, very long days. My father often traveled across town to see how I was doing and if I was being treated well. In addition to Vaganova ballet technique, I also received character dance and piano lessons. Twice a year there were examination classes for a selection committee; a garbage race to meet the high standards.”
“Dance is not what you do. Dance is who you are,
and it stays with you for your whole life.”
“Dancing meant everything to me. I was totally in love.” As Livia talks, I notice how she supports her story with movements: a hand she extends like a foot, an arm she lifts like an extended leg. Her passion is palpable. “Dance is not what you do,” she says, ”dance is who you are, and it stays with you for your life.”
The transition to Novi Sad
In 1994, at the age of 14, she moved to Novi Sad to continue her education. “I left our family and was home only on weekends. I lived with several foster families and eventually ended up in a boarding school with four other girls. They were tough and difficult years. What I experienced then, I never told my parents for fear they would take me away.”
“There was yelling and they were physically harsh. One teacher said, ‘You have to lose weight, I can’t send a fat girl to a competition.’ So I only ate bananas and a few cookies; I was incredibly thin.”
Discovered by the Opera School in Hungary
During a summer school in 1998, Livia was scouted by the Opera School in Hungary. “It was during a period of rising political tensions. The NATO bombing on March 24, 1999, changed something in me. What did a perfectly stretched foot mean when bombs were falling and lives were being destroyed? At the same time, my financial support fell away. I thought then that things would never be right again. After all, before I would have any sight of a job, I had to finish two more years of academics.”
Livia continues: “Through the Opera School I was tipped off about Holland. My cousin drove me to Rotterdam in 1999 for an audition and I heard the same day that I was accepted at the Rotterdam Dance Academy, now known as Codarts. My mother worked hard to get my funding and after two years my visa was approved. It felt like a new opportunity.”
Surviving in Rotterdam
The thought of a new opportunity quickly faded. “The living space I was staying in with other girls from the Balkans was unsafe and the projects I was dancing in were poorly paid. There was a chance for a big contract with a high-profile modern company. I made it to the last round of auditions and was among the last two, but the artistic director chose the other girl saying, ‘You’re very good, you’re almost there, hang in there.’ I heard that constantly at the academy: you’re almost there. Then where was I almost? I still don’t understand that.”
“Something in me has changed; something in me has broken.”
“The constant stress of finding work and making ends meet financially, while having to hold my own in a world made up of nepotism, caused a lot of anxiety. In a panic, I called a childhood friend. He probably didn’t understand anything, because all I could do was cry; everything came out. I said things like “it has failed here” and “I have failed. After crying for three days and nights I picked myself up and felt: something in me has changed; something in me is broken.”
Lack of support
“What I needed during that time was a mental coach, someone who understands what trauma does to you. When you work with young dancers, you should understand how the nervous system works and how to deal with it. The academy knew I came from a war zone. In addition, financial security had also made a world of difference. And someone who could point the way to the right auditions. I had to figure it out on my own; there was really a lack of adequate guidance and mentorship. I couldn’t afford auditions in Barcelona or Israel, unlike many students around me. Besides, why would they choose someone without a visa at auditions, too, which incurs extra costs?”
A life after the academy
Livia made the switch to teaching pilates to secure her income. It also proved to work well against the injuries she suffered during her dance career. “Pilates helped me a lot with my injuries, especially the scoliosis in my upper back,” Livia says. “I had constant spasms that lasted three days. I cried out in pain. The academy knew I was injured, but hardly any attention was paid. Why should they pay attention to one individual? If they had to do that to everyone, they wouldn’t get anywhere.”
She continues: “Pilates put me in touch with yoga and Vipassana meditation, which brought a lot of positivity. Although I still dance, I now do it through yoga. Music plays an important role in my classes. Through yoga I also discovered Shiatsu, in which I am now taking a four-year course. Unlike intensive ballet training, Shiatsu teaches respect for your own limits.”
The last dance
She also came upon her latest dance project through a pilates colleague: an interactive performance created by director Saskia Boddeke and her husband Peter Greenaway for the opening of a Science museum in Warsaw, Poland. “The project put me in touch with other women in a similar stage of life, in their thirties, who were either just mothers or about to become mothers. We supported each other and were well paid. Soon after, I became a mother myself.”
Innerlijke balans
“Dance brought me a great deal. It connected me to my body, and I was able to shut myself off from all the feelings and events that didn’t matter for a while. It was healing.”
Livia continues: “And ‘Dancers have to show up’. ‘On time!’ That discipline, I still value today and because of that, I have never been tempted by bad influences like drugs.”
As we leave the beach bar together, Livia reflects on her journey, “The deep suffering and that pain made me human. Now I no longer allow others to disturb my inner calm. I gently refuse. I don’t want the pressure and control from the past anymore. I don’t wish that on my daughter either. I am happy with myself. I appreciate who I have become!”
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Do you recognize situations from the story above that you have experienced that are transgressive? Talk about it and report it. Even if you have doubts. For support and confidential conversations, please contact:
Stichting MORES
Independent confidentiality advisors for dancers and those involved in art, culture and dance education.
- Phone: 06-12 16 33 26
- Website: https://mores.online/
Centrum Veilige Sport Nederland (CVSN)
Independent confidentiality advisors for everyone in the dance sport sector.
- Phone: 0900 – 2025590
- E-mail: centrumveiligesport@nocnsf.nl
- Website: https://centrumveiligesport.nl/