Butter yellow may be the color of summer, but bright, lemony yellow was the color of Step Afrika!’s 30th Anniversary Gala at Arena Stage on June 4. The invitation called for “elevated, colorful, creative, cocktail attire”—and guests answered in Crayola solids and drapey, multicolored prints. 

One guest wore a yellow gown with a bejeweled cape that trailed behind her; another wore a high-low dress in Barbie pink, and one tangerine blazer dress was adorned with a strand of freshwater pearls. Another wore a magenta strapless dress that fit perfectly. “I got it at Ross last night,” she told City Paper. Every few minutes someone new and fabulously dressed came through a tunnel of literal giant 30s made out of acrylic; guests walked through the zeros to enter the cocktail space.

The gala celebrated Step Afrika!’s 30 years of dance. Howard University alumnus C. Brian Williams founded the company in 1994 after studying percussive dance tradition in southern Africa. His aim was to make step more recognizable and more prominent in the States. (One of the featured cocktails was, fittingly, a spicy “1994 Mule” garnished with a round slice of lemon.) 

Stepping reflects centuries of Black history and American pop culture. The style can be traced back to West African folk dancing, as well as the call-and-response songs created by enslaved Black Americans. (In step, one soloist or group performs, and a second soloist or group responds). Like all dance forms, stepping has picked up threads of the cultures and decades it has passed through. For example, Black veterans returning from World War II infused the military marches and beats learned in training into the form. 

Later, historically Black fraternities and sororities added their touch to step as they crystallized the form through campus shows and competitions. It’s fitting that the dance form created by generations of Black artists is continuing to create opportunities for performers today. According to Williams, Step Afrika! is the largest employer of full-time performers of color in the D.C. region. 

After cocktails and hors d’oeuvres—lobster avocado toast, poulet au Riesling, skewered flank steak, and black-eyed pea cakes—the drums began beating, literally, summoning guests upstairs to the theater for entertainment.  

Step Afrika! opened with a Zulu performance: 10 minutes of drumbeats, tribal wear, body paint, and headpieces. The dancing was strong and powerful; the performers cut through the air and beat the ground with their bare feet. 

In step, the performers often provide both the dancing and the music with just their bodies, their voices, and specialized shoes designed to thud and clack. 

The focus of this year’s gala was a preview of The Migration: Reflections on Jacob Lawrence. The company’s signature work for 2024 opens at Arena Stage on Friday, June 7, and runs through July 14. 

The “Wade Suite,” the section of Migration performed, began with an empty chair placed at center stage. A somber man (Conrad R. Kelly, Step Afrika!’s assistant artistic director) wearing a three-piece suit entered. Draping his blazer over the chair, he knelt beside it and put his head in his hands, anguished and in prayer. 

Soon he was joined on stage by two couples, the men in suspenders and the women in Sunday-best dresses and wide-brimmed hats. The ecstatic dancing punctuated by shouts and steps began. It was soon clear that the dancers were celebrating, and depicting, a baptism. 

A choir singing “Wade in the Water” accompanied the dancers, headed up by special guest Smokie Norful, an American gospel singer and two-time Grammy winner. After the Migration preview, Norful returned for an aching, solo piano performance of “I Need You Now,” the gospel hit from his debut 2002 album. 

“I need you now/ Not another second, not another minute/ Not an hour, another day/ But Lord I need you right away,” Norful sang before adding new words toward the end: “We need you in the White House, in the Black house, in the crack house,” he riffed on the lyrics. 

Afterward, host TamekaHarrisLive made what’s often the most uncomfortable part of a gala—asking for money—a high point. She joked in her opening line: “Let’s talk about the heart of this event. Everyone say ‘proceeds.’” 

“You look good! You look like money,” she teased guests.

“Thank you, donor 258. I think my school bus was 258,” she commented while counting paddle numbers. 

“These girdles! Do you see me fighting for my life up here?” she pretended to gasp.

In his closing address, however, Williams reminded attendees: “This journey isn’t just about numbers. It’s about the people, past and present … The fiercely talented and courageous performers … the tremendous staff and consultants and board members over the years … and it’s about you, seriously, each and every one of you here tonight who contribute to Step Afrika!”

In her divorce from Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, MacKenzie Scott received a 4 percent stake in the online behemoth. As a result, her net worth ballooned (Forbes estimates its $34.9 billion). Stunningly, she pledged to give the majority of this fortune away to organizations supporting everything from perinatal health to LGBTQIA rights. Her financial gifts have been felt throughout D.C., most recently at Dance Institute of Washington. In April, Scott donated  $2 million to the equity-focused dance school in Columbia Heights.

Fabian Barnes, a former soloist with Dance Theatre of Harlem, founded Dance Institute in 1987. Like DTH’s famous founder Arthur Mitchell, Barnes’ mission became focused on improving the lives of underserved children through the arts. After his passing in 2016, Kahina Haynes stepped up as executive director. Since then, she has guided DIW through the transition and has positioned the school to become not only a local standout but also a national—even global—leader in dance equity. Validating her efforts, President Joe Biden appointed Haynes to the President’s Council on Sports, Fitness, & Nutrition in 2023. 

Scott’s $2 million gift will further equip the Institute’s efforts to drive societal change through dance education, continuing Barnes’ legacy. For example, the program teaches both arts and educational institutions in D.C. and beyond DIW’s methodology, “spotlighting dance as a pivotal tool for unity, healing, and empowerment, especially for marginalized communities,” according to the April press release announcing Scott’s gift. 

“Our duty, beyond teaching dance technique, is to equip our students with life skills—resilience, discipline, creativity—that are invaluable both within and outside of the dance world,” said Haynes in the release. “This extremely generous grant from MacKenzie Scott will provide us the opportunity to uphold our commitment to multiplying our efforts to communities all over the globe.”

Last year, City Paper wondered how the Washington Ballet would fare after artistic director Julie Kent, associate director (and Kent’s husband) Victor Barbee, and five top dancers left for the Houston Ballet. Another left for the Boston Ballet and three other dancers retired. In the span of a few weeks, the company lost a quarter of its roster. 

Thus, Washington Ballet billed its 2023–24 program as a “season of discovery.” On paper, the four shows looked spare. The season opener, Such Sweet Thunder, part of the citywide Shakespeare Everywhere Festival, premiered one new work—by Brett Ishida—to D.C. audiences but recycled three others from Kent’s tenure. 

Notably missing was the company’s annual lavish production—such as Sleeping Beauty or ballet-ified Great Gatsby—that has been a hallmark of TWB seasons since before Kent’s time. Besides The Nutcracker, the 2023–24 run had no big story ballet despite the reality that these productions reliably draw crowds and drive ticket revenue.

It turned out the company didn’t need one. The Nutcracker pulled a per-show record of $3.4 million in ticket revenue, and Jazz Icons at the Kennedy Center received a rave review from the Washington Post‘s Celia Wren: “It’s ballet. It’s jazz. But really it’s another dimension.” In October, TWB named Edwaard Liang its next artistic director. Later that month, when he introduced himself onstage before Such Sweet Thunder, the crowd cheered beyond the point of politeness—they were excited. 

Meanwhile, longtime company members such as Brittany Stone and Jessy Dick received more space to shine—Stone often in the principal roles she deserves and Dick in the soloist roles that eluded her before this past season. Andile Ndlovu, one of the company’s most experienced men, returned to the stage after getting injured while dancing in the spring of 2022. Newcomers, including 19-year-old Abigail Brent, brought a bright bounciness to the ballet. 

As the 2023–24 season concludes, D.C. ballet fans are wondering what direction Liang will take the company. Will he continue steering the Washington Ballet to becoming a classical repertory company—the vision from Kent’s era? Will he return to Septime Webre’s grand, theatrical, crowd-pleasing productions? Will he find a new direction entirely? 

The company’s 2024–2025 announcement doesn’t answer those questions but it does offer hints. The season, again, has just four shows: when WE take flight starts off the fall run at the Warner Theatre in October. The program compiles the “Stravinsky Violin Concerto” by George Balanchine (1972), “18+1” by Spanish choreographer Gustavo Ramírez Sansano (2012), and “Murmation” by Liang (2013). 

Following when WE take flight, TWB will then perform The Nutcracker 35 times—four more shows than last year—between November and New Year’s, followed by transcenDANCE at the Kennedy Center, featuring one newly commissioned work by Jennifer Archibald. This part of the lineup echoes Kent, whose choices balanced ambitious, classic ballets with biannual programs of new or recent works.  

But the closer brings Webre to mind. The season will wrap up with Liang’s choreographed creation ALICE (in wonderland)—simply called Alice when it premiered at Liang’s former company BalletMet in 2020. This show isn’t to be confused with Webre’s ballet of the same name, but Washington audiences might recognize the costumes and sets from Webre’s production. BalletMet acquired them from TWB when Liang’s work premiered in Columbus, Ohio, and now they’re coming home. 

As Liang steps into his role, the Washington Ballet is at a juncture—audiences will be attentive, watching to see how he will navigate the company’s artistic history while introducing his own choreography and influences.

In February, Dance Place hosted a “hair show,” billed as a journey about Black hair and its symbolism of Black resilience, art, culture, and pride. City Paper receives at least 100 inquiries about upcoming dance performances a year—and this one, “Color Me (Curly) Hair,” is one of the most original we’ve seen. The event brought together fashion designers and dancers, hair stylists and models, and it sold out. 

The visionary behind it all was Anastasia Johnson, who co-produced the show. She’s been in Dance Place’s orbit since 2018, teaching classes and running the after-school and summer programs. In February, Dance Place named Johnson the organization’s new education director, and she’s using her experience as dancer, teacher, choreographer, and administrator to shape her new role. 

A Richmond native, Johnson started as a camp counselor in the organization’s Creative Arts Summer Camp in 2018. The camp offers six weeks of all-day programming for kids ages 5 to 19. 

“The person I was working under, she was in charge of the after-school program throughout the year, and she was about to move,” Johnson says. “She kind of gave me the heads up, like, ‘Hey, I’m about to leave. You should apply to my job.’” 

Johnson got the role, and that became her pattern: As co-workers left, she took on their responsibilities, learning their crafts and the ins and outs of each role. In the fall of 2018, Johnson started managing the after-school program, which teaches kids both art and life skills. By summertime, Johnson got tapped to direct the summer camp—“and then I just kind of went up from there,” she says. 

Becoming education director, then, feels like a natural progression. She doesn’t expect life to feel too different, even as her role changes. For instance, she still plans to lead her Monday night Black Fusion dance class, where she teaches Black dance forms like majorette, jazz, step, and hip-hop. But now she’s adding to her purview.  

“I’m just shifting to, ‘How can I be a presence to them overall? Can I go sit in on different people’s classes throughout all of our adult teachers?’” Johnson says. “That’s a goal of mine to observe other classes that I might not have done so before.” 

She is also starting to look at the systems undergirding Dance Place, the sometimes unsexy work that makes the art possible. 

“I definitely am a ‘let-me-organize-this-the-way-I-want-to, color-coordinate-the-way-I-want-to type of person,” says Johnson. “Instead of working off a system somebody else made, I get to kind of redo things to help my brain work better.” 

Johnson and all of Dance Place’s staff will have their hands full this year. The nonprofit just received a $38,000 award from the National Endowment for the Arts to support three of its adult-focused programs: DanceAfrica DC 2024, the 2024 Dance & Disability Residency, and the 2024 District Choreographer’s Dance Festival. 

Johnson may not operate in these programs day-to-day, but they’re critical, in particular, for her work with Dance Place’s children, youth, and teenagers. Having healthy, well-funded programs can give students a vision for their own careers—much like Johnson herself, who stepped into roles her supervisors once filled. 

In the meantime, Johnson plans to stay present and visible, even as her role requires a higher-level focus. 

“I want people to know that I’m there. I don’t want to just be in the background of, ‘now I’m the director, I’m going to go into my office,’” she says. “People saw me before, and I don’t want to disappear and just erase my presence from the organization.” 

Dance Place has one hell of a spring lineup from Amber Lucia Chabus and haus of bambi to sci-fi immersive dance theater and a trilogy exploring the rights of life, liberty, and happiness. See more at danceplace.org. 

The magical Christmas tree wasn’t the only greenery growing at the Washington Ballet’s The Nutcracker in December. The company made $3.4 million in ticket revenue from 31 performances at the Warner Theatre—not counting its three shows at THEARC. 

To put it in perspective: That’s about $200,000 less than the production’s all-time high in 2022, but this winter’s run also included six fewer shows. 

For American ballet companies, annual Nutcracker showings make up much of the operating budget for the rest of the year. Reuters reported that the New York City Ballet, for instance, makes 45 percent of its annual ticket revenue from five weeks of The Nutcracker. Dance/USA estimates that Nutcracker productions, in turn, can count for about 15 percent of a company’s total revenue, not just tickets. 

TWB historically operates on a $12 million annual budget with about $3 to $4 million from ticket sales for the whole year—not just from The Nutcracker. 

The windfall, especially for a less intensive run that didn’t drain the artists and production staff, is a big win for a company in transition. Last summer, a quarter of TWB’s roster left or retired after then-artistic director Julie Kent departed for Houston Ballet. 

The money matters, but for Christopher Anderson, the company’s chief marketing officer, what matters more are the signals that the company’s efforts to grow its audience beyond ballet fanatics might be working.

“We’ve gone into spaces that we haven’t traditionally lived in and said, ‘You are a part of our community,’” Anderson tells City Paper. 

For The Nutcracker that meant, for example, running Spanish-language advertisements and partnering with 97.1 WASH-FM—not a classical music station—to promote the show. The company also invited a local high school choir competition winner to sing before a show, which brought in a new audience segment to the ballet. 

One thing TWB didn’t do, Anderson says, was dynamic ticket pricing, where prices increase when demand is high. To sell tickets, TWB partners with Live Nation, which merged with Ticketmaster in 2010. Both were investigated by the Senate Judiciary Committee last year for monopolizing the entertainment industry. But Anderson says overcharging is against the company’s mission. 

“A Nutcracker keeps the lights on, but we try to temper that with the fact that we’ve got a broader audience to reach,” he says. 

The company hopes to translate this success into the rest of its 2023-2024 season and onward into the next, when Edwaard Liang joins the company as its fourth artistic director. Liang, who is currently closing out the season BalletMet in Columbus, Ohio, where he has been artistic director for about a decade, is expected to arrive in D.C. this spring. 

The Washington Ballet’s next production, Jazz Icons: A Fine Romance, premieres on Feb. 14 and runs through the 18th at the Kennedy Center. kennedy-center.org. $30–$175.

Opens Friday: Mindplay at Arena Stage

“You can do terrible things with this,” Vinny DePonto shares about his skills as a mentalist. “Or you can make people feel less alone in their own heads, a sort of collective catharsis. That’s what the show is an attempt to do.” We are discussing Mindplay, which takes Arena Stage following rave reviews from the production’s run at Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles. In our interview DePonto repeatedly says he doesn’t want to give too much away when he’s pressed for specific questions about the show. A mentalist never gives away his tricks, fair enough. But he’s personable, soft-spoken, and charming, all seen in various clips of his mind reading available online. Mindplay is partially autobiographical: DePonto shares how he inherited a magic kit from his paternal grandfather who passed away when his father was still young, how he learned more about his grandfather through the process and enjoyed performing illusions to entertain his family, and how he delved into the psychology of the mind and memory during his maternal grandfather’s battle with dementia. DePonto, who studied theater and psychology, has found a suitably unique way of intertwining the two (he’s also been an illusion consultant for the recent Angels in America revival on Broadway). It’s no surprise really that he thinks a little bit of everyday magic is important for the psyche. “Mysteries help us to expand ourselves, our minds and our souls,” DePonto says. “We live in an age of certainty when we have every answer at our fingertips. I’m proposing that we carve out more ways that we can stumble into wonder and mystery.” One way to approach Mindplay is not as a one-man show, but as a two-hander with each audience member becoming an integral player. He admits that a mind reader without a participatory audience is just speaking questions and commands from a stage. (Even over the phone, he offers to perform a small feat of mind control by coaxing my fingertips to slowly converge as he repeatedly suggests invisible threads pulling them together.) Unlike a comedic hypnotist, he promises not to embarrass participants by snapping his fingers and turning anyone into a clucking chicken, but rather to meaningfully engage with audience members, developing an easy rapport and suspending disbelief, sharing some of his own stories of wonder and connection, reminding us of the forgotten senses of awe and curiosity, and together creating a bit of magic. Mindplay opens Jan. 19 and runs through March 3 at Arena Stage, 1101 6th St. SW. arenastage.org. $41–$95. —Colleen Kennedy

Saturday: Making Memories: A Journey Through Dementia at Dance Place

Music, dance, and memory are somehow tied together. Harvard recommends dancing for reducing dementia risk. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention suggests that dancing improves brain health. And who could forget the viral video of an elderly woman with memory loss hearing the Swan Lake score and dancing the choreography once more from her chair? Choreographer Mark Tomasic, whose mother has Alzheimer’s disease, created “Proof” to stir his mother’s memory, the way Swan Lake stirred the former ballerina. The choreography in “Proof” tracks his parents’ courtship, focusing on a day Tomasic’s father, a pilot, took her up in a plane. “He reenacted some of those moments and a movement structure that he recalled alongside her,” says Mary Verdi–Fletcher, president and founding artistic director of the Dancing Wheels Company. “Proof” is part of the company’s upcoming program at Dance Place called Making Memories: A Journey Through Dementia, which also includes a second Tomasic piece, “Three 4 Ann.” To build the program, Verdi-Fletcher wanted to weave in the stories of people like Tomasic who care for loved ones with Alzheimer’s and dementia. So they pulled together a community group in Cleveland, Ohio—where Dancing Wheels is based—of families, health providers, and community volunteers. “We created video montages with interviews from these families and the caregivers and medical staff,” says Verdi-Fletcher. “We created classes to work with both the family members and patients together.” The dances and the stories will be presented alongside one another and the show will also include a live testimonial from choreographers, resources from local D.C. and national memory care organizations, and a postshow talk with memory care professionals. Making Memories: A Journey Through Dementia starts at 4 p.m. on Jan. 20 at Dance Place, 3225 8th St. NE. danceplace.com. $10–$30. —Mary Scott Manning

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday: Cowboy Bebop at AFI

Pop culture works in mysterious ways. For instance, the Cowboy Bebop TV series was initially green-lit to make a quick buck off the space opera renaissance that was supposed to accompany the release of The Phantom Menace in the late ’90s. But instead of ending up in the bargain bin of history with all the other Star Wars knock offs, Bebop ended up doing more to influence the future of sci-fi and action than George Lucas’ whole prequel trilogy. (If you said “what about Clone Wars?” after reading the previous sentence, you need to rethink your media diet and life choices.) Created by anime legend Shinichiro Watanabe, Bebop is a galaxy-spanning adventure story featuring space battles, superweapons, and the one element that almost all sci-fi, even really good sci-fi, lacks: a sense of effortless cool, infused into the show via Watanabe’s love of noir, westerns, and, as the title promises, jazz. The plot of the Cowboy Bebop movie, which was released in 2001 and takes place between episodes 22 and 23 of the show, finds bounty hunters Spike and Jet looking for a job that will expand their diets beyond a daily wet-feeding of cup of ramen. In pursuit of their new bounty, they and their fellow passengers on the spacecraft Bebop (Faye Valentine, their sometimes-accomplice, and technology expert Edward) end up tangled in a bloody dispute between a pharmaceutical company and an ex-military bioterrorist. From there, the story plays out pretty much how you’d expect … But you don’t watch Cowboy Bebop for the story. You watch it for the action, for the vibes, for the gorgeous ship designs from Kimitoshi Yamane. You watch it for futuristic cities, where Blade Runner skylines loom over Taxi Driver alleys that give way to Raiders of the Lost Arc bazaars. Above all, you watch it for the interplay between the animation and the music, untouched to this day by imitators destined to clog the bargain bins of history while our titular space cowboy flies off into the sunset. Cowboy Bebop plays at 4:45 p.m. on Jan. 21, 7 p.m. on Jan. 22, and 9:15 p.m. on Jan. 23 at AFI Silver, 8633 Colesville Rd., Silver Spring. silver.afi.com. $8–$13. —Will Lennon

Tuesday: Hotline TNT at the 9:30 Club

One of the biggest disappointments of last year’s Riot Fest was the last-minute cancellation of New York’s Hotline TNT due to a rain delay. The band’s 2023 album, Cartwheel, was one of the best indie rock records of the year and I was desperate to hear how its distorted melodies would soar above a festival crowd. And while there’s no shortage of bands currently mining ’90s alternative rock for inspiration, Hotline TNT’s take—a little My Bloody Valentine, a dash of Midwestern emo—coheres into an immediately infectious whole, giving Cartwheel the feel of an album that could get stuck in your car’s six-disc CD changer and you’d be glad it did. One of the songs I have my fingers crossed for the band to play when they open for Wednesday on Tuesday at the 9:30 Club is “Out of Town,” which takes the syrupy jangle of the Lemonheads and runs it through J Mascis’ Marshall stacks to create two minutes of pure, fuzzed-out bliss. Hotline TNT, opening for Wednesday, play at 8 p.m. on Jan. 23 at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. 930.com. Sold out. —Matt Siblo

Wednesday: Oliver Tree at The Anthem

Oliver Tree is living his best life. Leading into the North American leg of the musician’s Alone in a Crowd world tour, named for the album he dropped in September, he played a DJ set aboard a luxury vessel navigating Antarctica and scaled the Great Wall of China. In some ways, such feats are tame compared to his usual antics riding the world’s biggest scooter or wrestling Bobby Lee on the comedian’s podcast—whatever it takes to go viral. Tree seems to acknowledge the monster he’s created on the self-aware, acoustic-turned-synth-pop track “Strangers.” There he bemoans: “I turned into what I hated/ But I can’t escape my own fate/ In the mirror I’m betrayed, when I am staring at my own face/ It’s hard to believe, the more friends you have the better/ It’s never what it seems, I feel more alone than ever.” Tree’s artistic endeavors have given rise to a Cerberus comprised of three eccentric, often volatile personas, one for each of his albums: scooter boy Turbo, cowboy Shawney Bravo, and now fashion designer Cornelius Cummings. Each will be on display at Tree’s performance, which he’s described as a cross between a movie, TV show, concert and play complete with wrestling, standup, motivational speaking and, yes, scooter stunts. Rather than making a scene, Tree is aiming for a spectacle and showing another side to himself in the process. Alone in a Crowd includes a love song, “Essence”, a rarity for the artist with funk elements that hints at a new creative wellspring. Only time will tell what fresh persona emerges from the ether. Oliver Tree plays at 8 p.m. on Jan. 24 at The Anthem, 901 Wharf St. SW. theanthemdc.com. $45–$85. —Dave Nyczepir

From a distance, the Washington Ballet’s The Nutcracker glitters. But up close, the production shows its age. The hanging scenery is frayed. One of the carousel horse’s tails is glued back on. The settee where Clara falls asleep in act one is patched and tattered.

“It used to be just green,” says Suzi Kilbourne, production stage manager at the Washington Ballet. But the fabric became shabby enough that the crew swiped an unclaimed pashmina from the company’s lost and found and artfully stapled it on—with actual staples. 

Later, a dancer saw the settee and remarked that she used to have a scarf just like that one. 

“And we just said, ‘Oh really?’” Kilbourne says mischievously. 

This year is Kilbourne’s 12th Nutcracker with the Washington Ballet. Created by former artistic director Septime Webre, the show itself is 19 years old. This year, Webre quietly revisited his old work, making the choreography more intricate, deepening a few of the characters, and consulting on changes to costumes and set design. But that a production nearly two decades old still sparkles is a testament to the production staff’s devoted care.

Most professional ballet companies in the U.S. produce their own version of The Nutcracker. Webre premiered his in 2004, and the Washington Ballet still produces his version every year at the Warner Theatre. The elaborate, D.C.-themed show was reportedly so taxing—and Webre’s vision so demanding—that the dancers voted to unionize in February 2005. 

When the company management and the dancers couldn’t agree on working conditions, The Nutcracker season was canceled in 2005 after just a week of performances. The disagreements eventually got ironed out, and the dancers today are represented by the American Guild of Musical Artists, which enforces measures like break times and freshly cleaned costumes. 

Backstage, Christopher Insley points out the cherry blossom-covered tapestry that provides the backdrop in the “Springtime” movement in act two. Insley is the company’s longtime technical director. The silk screen is paper-thin, and the tiny petals are crumpled in places—but the scene is still one of the show’s most visually stunning. 

“They’ve lasted 20 years because I take good care of them,” Insley says. Asked his method, he says, “folding.” 

The tutus and waistcoats, fur and feathers weren’t all so fortunate. Audiences may notice a few strategic swaps by the wardrobe department. For instance, the little gray mice that frighten Clara in the first act are now bright white. The cherry blossom skirts have new tulle and fresh petals—a project that lasted from January to November of this year. 

“We make every effort and attempt to make them look as lavish as they once were. But sometimes if you look up close you see a lot of stitching and darning and patchwork,” says Monica Leland, the company’s wardrobe supervisor. 

Meanwhile, Kilbourne and the production crew had to track alongside Webre’s choreography changes, made on a quick visit in November. Even subtle shifts can create a flurry of updates in the technical choreography that happens backstage. 

For instance, the original Clara received a party dress in the opening scene, which her onstage mother would help her into. This year’s Clara receives pointe shoes—“a relief,” Kilbourne says. The young dancers who played Clara would often have to dash into the wings for help fastening the buttons. 

Another Webre change is adding an intricate little duet, called a pas de deux, between Clara and her Uncle Drosselmeyer as the Christmas tree magically grows. This unfolds just before the nutcracker doll is transformed into a life-size prince with a flash and a bang. Before, the dancers had plenty of time to get in position for the pyrotechnics.  

“Now Drosselmeyer has mere moments to get from the end of that pas, grab the nutcracker doll on the little settee where Clara left it, and get into position for the pyro,” says Kilbourne. “So I am watching very closely on my monitor … we fire the pyro on a particular musical cue, and now there is very little time for that sequence.” 

Webre also replaced the oddly placed Hopi Kachina doll (carved-wood dolls that represent spirits in the northern Arizona Hopi Tribe’s tradition) that Drosselmeyer brings to the party with a bald eagle. Rolled onstage inside a giant silver quarter, this moment didn’t feel smoothed into the overall production—at least in the Dec. 8 show. But the awkwardness clearly doesn’t fall to the dancer, Jie–Siou Wu, who also danced the acrobatic Frontiersman in act two and drew some of the loudest cheers for his back handsprings and aerial cartwheels. 

Next year, when Webre’s Nutcracker turns 20, incoming artistic director Edwaard Liang will be fully installed; the company promises even more changes planned for the 2024 show. Asked what those changes will be, Leland says, “No hints.” 

The Washington Ballet’s The Nutcracker runs through Dec. 30 at the Warner Theatre. washingtonballet.org. $70–$194.

Tonight: Holiday Desserts Around the World at S. Dillon Ripley Center

Food historian and cookbook author Francine Segan has lectured on a true smorgasbord of topics: from the art of dining in Downton Abbey, to the 21st-century breakthroughs in Italian ravioli to the myth-laden secrets of libidinous foods like oysters and ginseng. When it comes to desserts, she can talk to you about the fruity (and brandy-infused) “Election Cakes” women during the late 1700s sold to male voters who needed grub to fuel their exclusive all-day civil affair. She is also an expert on chocolate—another aphrodisiac—and exactly which dessert wines compliment your confection of choice. In celebration of the holiday season, Segan will deliver a lecture on celebratory desserts across the globe, complete with recipe handouts and a dessert tasting to satisfy your cravings after an evening of toothsome descriptions and delectable history. On the menu are lessons from around the world, including the lesser known backstories behind American wintry staples like glossed candy canes or spiced gingerbread houses. The evening will also cover the sweet treats shared during Kwanzaa, Chinese New Year, Diwali, and Ramadan. Bonne note: As Rachael Ray said, “Francine feeds her readers well—stomach and soul,” so you just may want to come with an empty stomach, even if that means eating dessert first. Holiday Desserts Around the World: In-Person Program with Tasting starts at 6:45 p.m. on Dec. 14 at S. Dillon Ripley Center, 1100 Jefferson Dr. SW. smithsonianassociates.org. $45–$55. —Emma Francois 

Friday and Saturday: The Spirit of Kwanzaa

Back in 2020, City Paper covered what D.C. dance students lost when COVID canceled the holiday performances that, in a typical year, they spend months preparing for. These shows matter because they give young dancers a rare opportunity to perform for audiences wider than their friends and family. One of these shows is The Spirit of Kwanzaa, put on since 1995 by the Dance Institute of Washington, an elite and Black-led dance school in Columbia Heights. The production is a cultural experience that’s rooted in Kwanzaa and the agricultural ceremonies of Africa that the holiday draws from. Through this lens, DIW designed a show that conveys both the struggles and artistry of the Black diaspora. “The Spirit of Kwanzaa is always such an amazing event for DIW,” says Kahina Haynes, the school’s executive director. “It’s a perfect opportunity to bring the community together while celebrating everything enduring and beautiful about Black culture and creativity.” The cast consists of local dancers with support from guest choreographers Earl Mosley and Katherine Smith. The Spirit of Kwanzaa runs at 6 p.m. on Dec. 15 and 16 at Howard University’s Cramton Auditorium, 2455 6th St. NW. danceinstituteofwashington.org. $30. —Mary Scott Manning

Friday: The King’s Singers at the National Cathedral

Grammy-winning British choral sextet the King’s Singers return to the National Cathedral for their 2023 holiday tour. Mere months after releasing Wonderland, their third album of this year, the Singers will commemorate the 100th anniversary of Disney and the 400th anniversary of the death of 16th-century composer William Byrd. The concert will feature music that pays tribute to both. The Singers have had several rotations since their 1968 founding in Cambridge, England, but they’ve maintained the same pitch formation since their debut: two countertenors, a tenor, two baritones, and a bass. Today, the Singers consist of Patrick Dunachie, Edward Button, Julian Gregory, Christopher Bruerton, Nick Ashby, and Jonathan Howard. Speaking with City Paper, Dunachie and Ashby explain that their combination of pitches deepens the sonority, and creates a richness and familiarity to their a cappella music. The holiday tour focuses primarily on Christmas music, but features a selection of works from Byrd and a generous sprinkling of Disney. “For us, Christmas takes us back to childhood, and I think for kids the season is a truly magical time of year,” Ashby says. “Disney pulls in many of those same feelings.” The concert will also incorporate songs from Finding Harmony, a 2020 release that aimed to demonstrate how music can bring humanity together. “The theme pulls in a similar message of togetherness and community, and shows what love can achieve this time of year,” Ashby says. The King’s Singers perform at 7 p.m. on Dec. 15 at the National Cathedral, 3101 Wisconsin Ave. NW. cathedral.org. $25–$95. —Camila Bailey

Saturday: Dance Club With Kilopatrah Jones at the Owl Room

A body of water ripples in a pinkish looping GIF. “No need to fear the glitches in the quicksand,” says the Instagram flier for the latest installment of Dance Club, the semiregular party thrown by D.C’s Joyce Lim, Tommy C, and Baronhawk Poitier. It’s a typically stylish way of saying “let go, we got you,” by the three DJs, all of them deeply embedded in the city’s globally known dance-music scene. The goal of Dance Club is to “create a haven for the underground LGBTQ and BIPOC+ community,” Lim says. “Everyone is welcome.” What to expect: impeccably chosen house, techno, and club tracks, this time with guest Kilopatrah Jones, a high-energy New Yorker who is the latest out-of-towner to be featured as a headliner. “Our spaces are meant to be playful, so our dance floors are fun,” says Lim, who is also co-founder of D.C.’s 1432R label. (There’s a New Year’s Eve event on the books, too, headlined by locals including Dee Clark.) Dance Club begins at 9 p.m. on Dec. 16 at the Owl Room, 2007 14th St. NW. danceclub.link. $13.60. —Joe Warminsky

Wednesday: A John Waters Christmas at the Birchmere

O come all ye faithless, jailbirds, and rusty trumpets: Filmmaker John Waters is ready to spread some holiday cheer (and a few rounds of antibiotics should clear that up again). The “Pope of Trash” is beloved for his transgressive Baltimore-set films—including Pink Flamingos, Hairspray (and its subsequent Broadway success), Cry-Baby, and Serial Mom—focused on outsiders and featuring his cast of “Dreamlanders” such as Divine and Mink Stole. At age 77, the pencil-mustachioed provocateur remains as busy as ever. He wrote his first novel, Liarmouth: A Feel-Bad Romance, last year and is currently adapting the screenplay. It will be his first directorial effort since 2004’s A Dirty Shame. (Aubrey Plaza’s name has been circling as the most likely actor to take the lead role.) Earlier this year, Waters received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures hosted John Waters: The Pope of Trash, a comprehensive exhibition of his cinematic contributions, while the Baltimore Museum of Art gave a sneak peek of his museum bequest with the exhibition Coming Attractions: The John Waters Collection. Maybe the “Baron of Bad Taste” is finally in good fashion? All accolades aside, when it’s the holiday season, Waters puts the “X” back into X-Mas with his annual show. Even though Waters distorts family memories and beloved traditions to riff on a variety of topics more naughty than nice, the ribald and raunchy humor is all in good spirit and demonstrates his deep love for the holidays. Each season, Waters revises and updates his not-so-silent script—this year’s revue is titled “Blow It Up!”—and is followed by a lively Q&A session with the audience. A John Waters Christmas: Blow It Up! starts at 7:30 p.m. on Dec. 20 at the Birchmere, 3701 Mount Vernon Ave., Alexandria. birchmere.com. Sold out. —Colleen Kennedy

Kit Aylesworth, 25, graduated from American University with a double major in dance and musical theater in May 2020. It was not a promising time for a student who aspired to become a professional dancer. “Dance was basically nonexistent when I graduated,” Aylesworth says.

They had already done the legwork, both literally—American’s dance major requires 12 credit hours of movement-based courses—and figuratively: Aylesworth had been making connections in the D.C. dance community for years. Before COVID hit, they planned to stay in the city after graduation, taking classes and picking up work through their network. 

“It was super, super not fun to spend all these four years gearing up for a very specific career that just did not happen when I graduated,” says Aylesworth. 

Instead, they spent the rest of 2020 taking online dance classes and doing a five-day virtual dance intensive with the semi-local Orange Grove Dance, a company led by two former George Washington University faculty members. 

When the city’s stages reopened in early 2021, Aylesworth set about reconnecting with the network they built during school—an essential part of getting local dance work. They took a part-time job working the box office at Studio Theatre on 14th Street NW, before moving to Silver Spring’s Round House Theatre. Their strategy, like Max Gorman of GRIDLOCK Dance, was: If you can’t be on stage, be near it. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of different behind-the-scenes stuff to kind of stay in the world, but not necessarily be dancing,” Aylesworth says. “Because people need the stage managers and the technicians way more than they do the dancers.”

In February 2022, Aylesworth also got a full-time, non-dance job—as many performers do to help pay for life in D.C., which ranks seventh in the U.S. for cities with the highest cost of living—as a bookseller at East City Bookshop. They call it a survival job, albeit one that’s meaningful. 

“I am really, really passionate about books and about the work we do at the bookstore,” says Aylesworth. “But it is something that I just need money, so that at night I can moonlight as an artist.”

For now, this balance is workable, and staying in the stage world seems to be paying off. In July, Aylesworth co-choreographed the jukebox musical Head Over Heels at Wildwood Summer Theatre in Montgomery County, which was featured in the Washington Post. 

But crisscrossing the city and working six or seven days a week is grueling—especially when trying to sandwich dance classes between work shifts. In some ways, the pandemic still seems to be working itself out for Aylesworth and others who graduated into a COVID-warped landscape, forced to scrap their postgrad plans overnight. For a time, Aylesworth stopped dancing. They had little time between shifts and the more convenient virtual classes felt unfulfilling. The post-pandemic chaos made Aylesworth wonder if dance fit into their life anymore at all. But by September of this year, Aylesworth felt ready to try again. 

“This past [September], I actually went back to class for the first time, and it felt so much better,” they say. “It feels different, and it’s not the same as it used to be. But it felt really good to be back.” 

This is the fifth and final story in our Dancing in the Moonlight series that looks at how local dancers put together various part-time gigs and side hustles in order to support themselves.

Lauren DeVera felt Los Angeles calling in 2010 after she completed her bachelor’s degree in dance. Getting to the city was both a pressure and a dream. Everyone she knew who wanted to dance professionally seemed to be moving out west, and DeVera couldn’t imagine Chantilly, her hometown, offering many comparable opportunities. 

But the fallout from the Great Recession of the late aughts was still tangible. The unemployment rate peaked at 9.5 percent the year DeVera graduated, and only in mid-2014 would the U.S. economy recover the 8.7 millions jobs lost. So despite the allure of L.A., DeVera decided to take the more traditional route. She got a full-time job with benefits in the D.C. area. 

“It just made sense,” she says. 

But her goal was still to get to California, and DeVera kept dancing. She joined a few local dance collectives, including local hip-hop troupe Culture Shock DC, and traveled to San Diego, Atlanta, and Canada for performances. 

By 2013, DeVera felt ready to follow her dream. She got into a monthlong dance intensive in L.A., quit her job, and had just a couple weeks to kill before moving. “And in that little time window that I left the full-time job with benefits, I tore my ACL,” she says.   

The tear, crutches, and impending surgery meant the hard-core life of L.A. dancing couldn’t happen anymore—at least not anytime soon. DeVera, forced to find a way to earn a living and pay for her care, and fast, decided to stay in the DMV. 

To support herself following the injury, she took part-time, nonartistic jobs—a common experience for local freelance artists, injured or not, who often get paid in stipends for short-term projects. In an interview with City Paper, DeVera rattles off all the places she worked over the years: a coffee shop, a church ministry, a credit union, barre and yoga studios, Waxing the City’s front desk. 

Meanwhile, as she relied on credit cards to cover her dance-specific physical therapy, she built up her dance resume with work she could do while still recovering. DeVera taught barre classes, directed a local dance team, and hosted community freestyle dance sessions. “[I was] making these ugly flyers on this app and putting it up on Instagram,” she remembers. “Back when Instagram first came out.” 

By 2015, these activities—originally meant to fill the time and her resume—had become DeVera’s life. 

“As my 20s went on, I went and visited L.A. again to see if this is something that I want to do full time,” DeVera says. “And I just couldn’t do this lifestyle. I can’t do this dancer grind lifestyle.” 

Instead, DeVera made her dance home in the D.C. area. Today, her income streams are as varied as her credit union-coffee shop-barre studio days. She launched a podcast in 2020, offers life coaching, hosts guided meditations, and choreographs dances—most recently in November for Dance Place’s These Beating Hearts: Dance for our Ancestors. 

DeVera sees her work as multi-passionate entrepreneurship—not side hustling. “I don’t even want to be associated with that word,” she says. Each project is a main event, meaningful and connected to all the others.

“There were many opportunities where I could have said, ‘Forget dance, let me go do the quote unquote adult thing and find a stable 9-to-5 job and just make dance like a hobby,’” DeVera says. “But the calling on my life is so strong that I just knew that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.”

This is part four of our Dancing in the Moonlight series that looks at how local dancers put together various part-time gigs and side hustles in order to support themselves.