“Working with women has been a choice”
Vicky Shick
Interviewed on August 25th, 2022
by Anabella Lenzu
Anabella: I started this project “ Listen to Your Mother” during my Parent/Artist-In-Residence at Movement Research in 2022. I want to talk to another mom and artist, as sometimes I feel too lonely. So this project is a way to create resources for other moms and for other artists. Perhaps they feel isolated themselves and they don’t know it. So tell me, Vicky, how or when did you decide to become a mom? And, as an artist, how was this before and after you had the baby?
Vicky: I was in the Trisha Brown Company and had been married for a year or two and thought “Okay, I've never been pregnant,” and felt: If my body is capable of doing this, it would be beyond great. I would love to have a family, to become a mom; what a privilege that would be. If it could happen, I would be thrilled. I ended up getting pregnant. I got pregnant and left the Trisha Brown Company. I was just under 35 when my son was born and of course, I was nervous about what was going to happen. Nervous not just about being a mom, but for the first time in my life I had a real job/an excellent one and I was leaving it after six years. I'm very different now, as is my attitude, but in my early 30s/ late 20s when people asked “What do you do?” I would answer, “I'm kind of, sort of, maybe, a dancer, but not really.” Even though dancing was my passion, I never felt like I could strongly and fully say, yes. Somehow having a “job” made me feel like I could say I'm a dancer. I don't think like that anymore, that company model is gone from my consciousness and from the reality of our dance community-culture.
Anyway, it was a big, wonderful change to become a mother. What do I do as a mother and as a dancing person starting out on my own? I realized that having been in the Trisha Brown Company opened possibilities for me. I was incredibly lucky because of that. It was a bit easier for me than for some of my peers. I felt both gratitude as well as unease from the inequality and privilege of the situation.
My son will be 36 in September. He got married a year ago during the pandemic. He and his wife are both pediatricians. He has been to many dance performances and though quite far from a dance fan, he came and still does. My favorite comment from him as a teenager was: “That's worse than the last thing you did.”
Anabella: How has your practice changed? From dancing on tour with a company to becoming a mom. How was this transition?
Vicky: Before I got pregnant, I had an interesting conversation with Trisha about leaving the company. She told me how hard it was to keep dancers over age 34 and how disappointing that was for her. I had been in the company for six years. Back then, six years felt so very long to me; now it feels quite short. I was yet another 34-year-old contemplating leaving. I was gradually becoming a homebody. I didn't want to travel so much anymore. When I first joined the company, there was very little work and then in the mid-early 80’s, everything changed. There was a lot of work and a lot of touring. Even though it was an utterly amazing life experience, I was ready to move on and I craved becoming a mother.
Navigating through that change was challenging. Not only did I give up a cherished job, I had a baby. The responsibility of that was huge - and my passion for dancing was definitely still there, still consuming, as was the equally big passion for being a mom.
Anabella: How was it for you when your son was growing up? How did you deal with your body’s changes? For me, I had gone from having a ballerina body, from small to an extra large. I never had boobs. I was feeling like I don't know who I am in my own body.
Vicky: Well you don’t look extra large, you just look beautiful to me. I grew up in a ballet school and I can't tell you how many times as a ballet student, and as a young modern dancer, I was told “If you want to take dance seriously, you have to lose weight.” I mean I had boobs, not huge, but boobs. I wasn't obese, I was a regular-sized teenager with breasts. I remember thinking at the barre while doing the traditional cycle of movements, – I'm doing the same damn exercises as everyone else; how come I’m the only one with breasts? My mother had a D cup –– genetics, that’s why!
Anabella: I know, Italian DNA. Tell me more about body changes.
Vicky: Ah, while I was pregnant, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and she died when my son was only a year and a half. She died younger than I am now. I think the anxiety about her illness and her death gave me so much sadness, tension and stress that my body got smaller. My body changed from all the emotions and the worry. I think the physical changes that seem more dramatic to me come from aging and not from pregnancy. But it is different for everyone. I actually am pretty mobile for a 70-year-old person and grateful for that.
Anabella: So how has your life progressed after becoming a mom? I'm guessing that you were teaching at this time.
Vicky: Yes, I was teaching and had no advanced degree. The credential requirements were different then. I somehow got a job at Hunter College and taught there for 15 years. In addition, I taught at several other colleges in the New York/northeast area. I also taught internationally and still teach for Movement Research and the Trisha Brown Company. There were a couple of jobs that came with decent money. Some of them were setting Trisha Brown pieces on students. Teaching was/is a delightful way to stay connected to younger people in the community and to make some money - I appreciated and still appreciate both those things. I'm also very honored to stay connected with the Trisha Brown Company. Twice, I had a one-semester job at Princeton to stage a Trisha Brown piece. In one semester at Princeton I earned what I made in 10 semesters at Hunter College –– and that's the truth. It's so nice to have a job where there's actually a little bit of money. To this day, I have a distorted sense of salaries and money.
Anabella: It’s also that you feel more stable in this career, which is so unstable, and while dealing with a kid. Everything is unpredictable. The last 10 years, every time that I have a show, someone is always sick.
Vicky: Yes, I have a friend who is a genius physical therapist and a former performer. She told me whenever it was the first night of a show, one of her two daughters always got sick.
Anabella: Yes, it’s always like that. You're getting used to performing, but on the other side “I need to call the babysitter” It’s always like that. That’s why I asked about the before and after. Vicky, you mentioned that you started to do your own work, so how did you deal with maternity in creating your own work, teaching, and juggling so many things?
Vicky: We were basically a one-income family. My husband teaches at a college. It’s not a lot of money, but it's stable - that matters tremendously. It's his birthday next week, he'll be 72, and he's been at the same college for 46 years.
Anabella: It means there’s stability.
Vicky: In the beginning, I did not apply for any grants. I was aware of so many people becoming bitter. I knew, I didn't want that to happen to me. I didn't want to wonder why one person got a grant and not another, nor me. So I dropped out of that world. That is what made most sense at that time.
Anabella: Me too.
Vicky: Did you?
Anabella: Yes, I'd rather work another way. I’d rather teach and get money that way, than spend hours and hours trying to write something that really is random. I decided if I have three free hours during the day or if I’m in the studio, I could write the grant, but I'm not writing the grant.
Vicky: When I got older, I applied for one or two things, and I received one grant that was a huge surprise. I felt super grateful for that unexpected gift, it wasn’t one of those $300,000 grants. However, it was incredibly helpful, wonderfully generous, and just so spectacularly nice. I did get a Guggenheim Fellowship. It was $45,000. That was a huge help too, but it disappeared quite quickly. The grant money supported space rental, salaries, travel and costume costs, sound, set and lighting design - everything. I blew most of the money on a show that was performed in Budapest, Hungary, as well as here, in NYC. Early in the 2000’s, I received that tremendous surprise – a Foundation for Contemporary Art grant. I was teaching at Fordham – classes were held at the Ailey School. While changing my clothes in the bathroom one day my phone rang, I picked up and someone was speaking about some grant. I asked, “So what do I need to do to apply for this?” They said, “No, you don't understand, you just got this grant.” I remember I burst out crying there in the Ailey bathroom. I felt overwhelmed, in disbelief and so unbelievably grateful and happy. Oh geez, I'm not answering your questions!
Anabella: No, you are answering, because it’s about the whole picture, the whole panorama. It's about having balance in life. You need to be able to have your career and create your support system, create your family, and create your art. There are many things to juggle.
Vicky: …like the occasional power struggle with a husband…
Anabella: Of course. That’s why I moved here! I was making more money in Italy - I was working for the Italian Ministry of Culture. I was making a lot of money, but my husband was teaching English as a second language for the policeman. But he’s a photographer, so he was off balance, and we moved to the United States. It depends on your culture. I’m not paying for everything. It changed the dynamics, so I understand. So tell me about bringing your kids to rehearsal, how was that?
Vicky: I did not do that so often. My son was in school. I knew that whatever I did had to stop at 2:15 PM so I could pick him up from school.
Anabella: How did you organize your life? Many people asked me about how I do so many things, and I say, “Because I have discipline and I stick to the schedule.”
Vicky: I have discipline. Well, I always say that I'm a bit lazy except when it comes to my work. I'm not a person who needs a lot of sleep. Actually, I probably do, but I don't sleep a lot and I never did. I made sure that I could rent space as early as some spaces would open, and I would work - often alone. Then I would go get my son and the same schedule would repeat the next day and the next. As one’s child gets older, it gets a little easier schedule-wise. I had some childcare when I was working on a show and needed more time. When you’re working with other people, you find a schedule that merges with their schedules. That can be quite a challenge - it’s part of the job ! Everyone juggles so much to stay in this field.
Anabella: Tell me about your work –– as a dancer, a choreographer? How did it inform your work about being a mother? Did you notice any difference with other dancers or choreographers that you worked with that didn’t have kids?
Vicky: I know that sometimes people resented me when I said: “I have to go pick up my child,” or “my child is sick.” Even when my mother was dying, some people were disturbed that I couldn't come to rehearsal! For the last decade I have been working with a woman, a wonderful dancer, who now has two young children. She is very appreciative of our mutual comfort with childcare issues and with life’s necessary interruptions. I have an understanding of these difficulties, having experienced them myself and trust the “figuring it out” - even at the last minute. When I was home with my child, I wasn't one of those people who could sit down and read for hours, I was always distracted by my son - I don’t mean that in a negative way. When I was in the studio, I knew it was my time. My husband was supportive of my work and I always felt like a better parent when I was working. Even though I thoroughly adored my son beyond what I ever imagined possible, I always felt more patient and understanding when I was also working and felt fulfilled from that.
Anabella: Yes, definitely. What are his memories? You spoke about his memories growing up when he would see you dance. Our worst critics are our kids.
Vicky: That's an interesting question, I haven’t really asked him –– he’s not the most communicative person especially about this topic. When he was in kindergarten I would hear him say, “My mom is going to work.” I thought to myself “Yes!” He sees my dancing as my work, without me saying, “Dance is my work.” Somehow he got that. His dad is a college professor and that was his work, my work was whatever the hell dance /performance thing I was doing at the time. Our son was a baseball player, so I took him to Central Park for his practices and for his games. He would often catch me dancing in a distant field during his practices and he’d ask me, “Do you always have to be dancing?” *laughter* I’m sure I embarrassed him.
Vicky: I feel like my work is more influenced by growing up in a household of idiosyncratic immigrant women than by motherhood. My parents separated when I was 11, so… most often I was with my mother, my sister, my grandmother, my mother’s cousin and an aunt. All females. My mother had some boyfriends, so sometimes there would be some single man and seven women at holiday dinners. Poor guy!*laughter* Anyway, I grew up in a very different way from my son. He grew up in an American, child-centered household, but I did not grow up like that. I always felt that my parents loved me, but it was not child- centered. It recently hit me that when we came to this country, my mom was under 40 and she had two kids. My dad was 14 years older. My parents were too busy trying to figure out how to make a living/how to carve out a new life. They assumed I would do fine in school. They didn't say, “What do you have for homework?” or “Do you need any help?” Even if they wanted to help, they couldn’t because of the language.
They wanted me to have a good report card, it was expected. My husband and I were much more involved in our son’s daily activities and in his education. My life as a parent was/is so different from what I had experienced with my own parents.
Anabella: And you were born in Hungary? How old were you when you came?
Vicky: I was five, and I didn’t know any English. My sister and mother knew a few words, but my father, grandmother and I did not. I learned English in kindergarten. In kindergarten, no one thought I could speak. I didn't utter a word the whole year. I was extremely shy –– which is hard to believe because I’m talking so much to you, but that’s because you’re so kind and I’m so comfortable. If we were four people, I wouldn’t be talking. I learned English quickly; it’s easy for a 5-year-old, but I still did not say a word. A fallen hair clip was found on the classroom floor – my teacher held it up and I blurted out “Mine.” That’s the only thing I said the whole year. In the first grade, I had to go back into the kindergarten classroom and read to the class to show the teachers that, in fact, I could actually speak.
Anabella: How did you start your training in dance?
Vicky: I went to Ballet Theater School, which was the school affiliated with American Ballet Theatre (ABT). I had a scholarship there, and ballet became my passion. As I got older I went from once a week class, to twice, to four or five times a week.
Anabella: What about your parents? My parents are both Italian in Argentina. So I remember in South America when I was already a teenager my dad said “Okay what do you want to do with your life?” and I said, “I want to dance” and he said, “You know that in Argentina it doesn't matter -whatever career you study you're never going to have money.” So my dad said, “The only thing that I ask you is whatever you choose, do it 100%.” That was rare for an immigrant family to allow you to do whatever you want, because they’re used to living in survival mode. So what about you? Did your mother support you dancing?
Vicky: I don't know if they thought I was going to take it so seriously, or if it was just going to be a thing to do as a little girl. My mother supported my dancing, but still did not realize it would become my life.
Anabella: Always in between, that's always the life of an immigrant. We don't fit in anymore, neither here nor there. Tell me about passing traditions from your family to your son?
Vicky: I don’t know if we had any traditions we intentionally passed on to our son. I suppose what was passed on was more a way of life. My family left during the Hungarian Revolution in 1956. The Hungarian “Freedom Fighters” were trying to overthrow the communist regime - a horrifically simplistic description. My mother was terribly nervous about the political situation in the country; she was also the power-center/boss of the family – she worried things would get really bad, worse than they already were. She had a sister in New York and she decided that we were going to try to get there. We had to escape across the border. I was told I had to be extremely quiet - we crossed at night time - a family in our group got captured. I'm sure my parents were totally freaked out, frightened and nervous. And then, there was also the reality and extreme anxiety of arriving in America, a new country with a new language. Actually, when the Ukrainian war started six months ago, I remember being amazed by the many early war images of Ukrainians leaving. I thought wow, that wasn't the case in Hungary. Leaving was absolutely not allowed. Unfortunately, it did not remain a possibility for Ukranians either. I'm Jewish–both of my parents are Jews. My father was in a concentration camp during World War II. My mother was in hiding with my sister, who was a baby. I was not yet born. I was brought up to not tell anyone that I’m Jewish. My mother was the enforcer of that! I’m not sure why, but I did not abide by that rule. It just felt wrong to me even though I understood the fear that informed it. Unfortunately, I think I did not really pass on any traditions to my son, except that he’s been to Hungary- he knows the history a bit and our family history as well – and he’s heard the language so much. He knew my father longer than he knew my mother – she died quite young. Maybe he absorbed something from the bits of knowledge and understanding he had, from the slightly different customs and approaches to life, the different foods, or just from hearing this other language so often. He has excellent pronunciation when saying the Hungarian words he knows. My husband is also Jewish, so now we do Passover and Hanukkah. I still celebrate Christmas Eve dinner at my sister’s apartment - a tradition that was not uncommon for assimilated Hungarian Jews. I’m not sure how to answer that question about tradition. Like most family traditions, our individual ones are quite unique to us.
Anabella: Yeah, but I think has to do with the push for assimilation. My dad was Italian, but he never spoke Italian. He came to Argentina after the Second World War, when he was five years old, and in school they told him, “Please don't speak Italian at home,” because they thought kids would get confused. So certain traditions were lost because of this assimilation, because you need the culture. It’s interesting that you keep your Jewish traditions and also the Christian ones, so you celebrate both!
Vicky: Just Christmas Eve. My son didn’t have any religious upbringing - nor did I. He did not have a bar mitzvah. He certainly thinks of himself as a Jew. My husband grew up with the rituals of religion.
Anabella: How do you feel now that your body carried all of this, to be Hungarian and American? Can you talk about your work and if you notice that it is different for you? Because we all carry our story in our bodies, right?
Vicky: I have done pieces mostly with only women. In ourthen heterocentric world, I was afraid of intimacies being interpreted as romance had there been men. Somehow, working with women seemed more direct and clear to me and also more a reflection of what I experienced growing up. I think my pieces are often about people who are a little bit off. I feel quite attached to creating and collaging little scenes. I love vignettes, but there never is a linear narrative, I’m drawn to the inherent drama in pure movement. I’m very interested in the humanity and vulnerability of the performer, and in the intimacies among the performers and with the audience. When I go to the movies, I want to see something that's depressing. I like to laugh, I love to laugh and I love humor, but I'm just much more engaged in seeing something dark. For many years, Hungary led the world in suicide and I used to have some perverted pride in that. It’s in my heritage to be sad, and also to be apologetic.
Anabella: Vicky, is there anything else that you want to share about your experience? Either about immigration, motherhood, or being a female? You mentioned that your work is always with females, is this a choice?
Vicky: I've been in this body for 70 years and it's what I know. I feel like I’ve had so many years in a woman's body and I can’t escape that. Yes, working with women has been a choice.
Anabella: How do you define what it is to be female? You mentioned gender fluidity. You cannot imagine me-- it’s been a hard for me, especially at NYU, where everybody says “they.” I think, “Oh my God, what did I just say? Did I say he, or did I say she?” I’m trying…
Vicky: I had a student last year at the New School who used the pronoun “they.” Many times I made a mistake and used “she.” They would gently correct me. They were very generous and understanding. The ease with gender fluidity now is admirable and makes so much sense - it’s just newer to my generation!
Anabella: How do you define this feminine energy? Because I explain this to the dancers. I ask them, what is it to be in a female’s body, what does it mean if you have female energy in the world? You and I have that in common. That’s what I want to decode, what is it to be female?
Vicky: I don’t even know, but I feel like a woman. Yeah, I don't know what that even means, especially now. Perhaps it means nothing, but it's one thing I don't question - my “femaleness” – maybe I should. Is it too late?
Anabella: It was another time. The younger generation change their name or their articles, there is a lot of identity questioning. I know that I am a female dancer and this is a strong foundation that you can use to support yourself. Then you can go on to another question. When your base is not stable, I don’t know how they can become an artist.
Vicky: But that’s it! Maybe instead of not being stable, it’s just fluid. Their base is fluid. It’s totally fascinating, open and positive.
VICKY SHICK has been involved in the NYC dance community for four decades—performing and making dances, collaborating with various performers, artists, and sound designers. For six years she was a member of the Trisha Brown Company and has staged several of Brown’s dances here and abroad, including in her hometown, Budapest. Vicky has performed with many other choreographers and also created pieces at several universities, most recently at Princeton, Yale, and The New School. She recently showed work at Roulette, in a collaborative performance event with choreographer, artist Jon Kinzel. In addition to teaching internationally, in the NYC area, she teaches at Movement Research, for the Trisha Brown Company, and for 15 years at Hunter College. She was a two-time Movement Research Artist-in-Residence, a two-time Bessie Award recipient, a grant recipient from the Foundation for Contemporary Arts, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a DIP grantee at Gibney Dance Center.
ANABELLA LENZU: Originally from Argentina, Anabella Lenzu is a dancer, choreographer, scholar & educator with over 30 years of experience working in Argentina, Chile, Italy, and the USA. Lenzu directs her own company, Anabella Lenzu/DanceDrama (ALDD), which since 2006 has presented 400 performances, created 15 choreographic works, and performed at 100 venues, presenting thought-provoking and historically conscious dance-theater in NYC. As a choreographer, she has been commissioned all over the world for opera, TV programs, theatre productions, and by many dance companies. She has produced and directed several award-winning short dance films and screened her work in over 200 festivals both nationally and internationally.