Today we’d like to introduce you to Danny Dolan.
Every artist has a unique story. Can you briefly walk us through yours?
I was born in St. Louis, MO in 1977, the youngest of two boys. My mom was a dancer/choreographer and my father was a salesman. Both very liberal. Both very supportive. We moved to Overland Park, KS when I was four and I was a competitive gymnast from 4-12 years old, Kansas state champion when I was 8. I grew up very sensitive and kind, teased a lot at school for being feminine and soft, but then praised and championed outside of school for being a rock star at the sport I did that no one in my school life really knew about, which was a bit of a mind fuck for a small kid. I went to theater camp where my mom taught dance and I did a lot of musicals growing up. I loved the stage and performing. I did theater through high school and college, majored in English and theater and graduated thinking I was going to move to NYC and be a big stage actor. The summer after graduation, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and lived for nine months with that. She died in June of 2001. I was 23, had lost my best friend and biggest support and really had nothing holding me to Kansas City. I had my plans for NYC. Then 9/11 happened and the last thing that the city needed was another struggling actor. So, I moved to Chicago where I worked at an office and did theater at night. After three years, a good friend said I should move to LA so I could actually get paid to act. So, I did, in 2004. I did all the things actors do when they first move here, I got a job at a cafe, I started doing background work to get my SAG card, I got headshots, got an agent… and then, waited for auditions that took a while to come. So, I found other ways to be creative. I built things with my hands. I had jobs and side jobs and side side jobs. I hustled and struggled. I got a job at the first Pinkberry to pay for my SAG dues once I was eligible. I wrote fluff articles for gay magazines. I worked doubles. I worked triples. Eventually, I started booking commercials and making money and finally felt part of the game…not completely fulfilled, not the big stage actor that I had once dreamed of being, but things got easier and I was part of this moving machine that fuels a big part of this city.
In 2008, a dear friend asked me to go to Burning Man with her and some other friends. I said, yes. I went. I was changed. I came back and really began searching for community… supportive and inspiring community. People that were living, people that we’re creating. A friend had a benefit for a non-profit she had and she asked a lot of her dancer friends to choreograph pieces for the event. I went. I saw a lot of beautiful dance. One, in particular, stood out. The song was Weird Fishes by Radiohead. The dance was athletic, absurd, approachable… and most of all, FUN. It looked so fun. I asked my friend who did the piece and she said Ryan Heffington and that I should take his class on Sundays. So, I went. It was fun, absurd, supportive, inspiring, people were screaming and clapping for each other, dancers and non-dancers, together, same floor, same movement. I had found it. And I went every Sunday. Ryan asked me to be a part of a piece he was choreographing. I said yes. He asked me to dance at the Grammys for Muse. I said yes. He asked me to be a part of the Lady Boys, I said yes. I got a dance agent. I went out on auditions. I booked work. I had started something brand new at 30 that I had no intention or idea of doing with my life. And it became the most important and fulfilling thing.
In 2010, I started dancing with a friend’s band Hi Fashion. The shows were punk, super queer, super fun. People on stage just dancing and throwing themselves around. It was very whoever comes is just get on stage and do something. I went to an Empire of the Sun concert a year or so after first working with them and saw characters, costumes, storytelling through movement. It was incredible. I asked Jen and Rick (Hi Fashion) if I could choreograph a show for them. Lots of dancers, a thru line, costumes and costumes and costumes. They agreed. I had not choreographed much before that, and I had asked to do six songs. With 12 dancers. On a tiny dance floor. It was intense and crazy and wild. It’s very beginner step touch crack a fan turn and pose choreography. But it gave me a taste of creating something and planted the notion that I have a voice, I have something to say and contribute to this conversation. I’ve been dancing in LA now for 12 years. I dance with Ryan a lot, still, and have made connections with many other dance companies/creators throughout the city. I also teach at his studio now. I choreograph my own work, I collaborate with fellow dancers and performers. and I keep saying yes. I had no idea I would be doing what I am doing now. Dancing was not in my plan. But I stayed open to things and went with what felt good and right and fun.
Please tell us about your artwork.
I dance, act, sing, choreograph, produce photoshoots, create immersive site-specific dance events, I write, I DJ, I make clothes and costumes. I have a lot of ideas in my head and when I create something, I bring to life that idea and then free up space for other ideas to come in. I’m in a collective (VOMIR) with two other friends and people ask us why we do our photo projects and that’s what I tell them. We make no money doing it. We do it because we love collaborating and we love each other and to see an idea through to the end, to create something tangible and not have it live as an idea, but as a conceived thing, that’s incredible. I don’t put ‘good’ or ‘bad’ or other labels on it. I/we created something. And it now lives outside of myself. And to even just do that is a success.
When I make anything, I come at it from a queer perspective, an ‘other’ perspective… consciously, subconsciously… it just happens because that’s my experience, my life, how I’ve navigated through things. I have felt other my whole life. When I write or choreograph, there is usually a character that is other, that does not fit in, that is special. I think the biggest reason why I do anything is to bring joy to others. We live in dark times, and I think as artists, an instinct we have is to feed into that darkness, to be okay with it, even be friends with it. And I’ve done that a lot in my life. Sitting and sometimes dwelling in the agony or pain or frustration of living. I love the darkness. For me though, it’s easy. It’s easy to go there, to go dark and painful, because I have a lot to draw from and it feels therapeutic, in a way, to really go deep and bring out the demons. To bring light and joy is harder though, more uncomfortable. I don’t subscribe to the art is pain bullshit. Art is also joy and laughter and lightness and connection and love. And I want to be spreading that. That’s a challenge. To be absurd and funny and light. After I teach my class (Monday night’s at 745 at the sweat spot, ahem!), the best compliment I get afterward is ‘that was FUN!’ The world is hard. Life is hard. This city is hard. To be able to hold a space for fun is a privilege.
In regards to what I create, currently I’m dancing and choreographing more than anything. My movement is athletic and grounded, a bit chaotic, lyrical and strong. I pull from character and story rather than technique or tricks. I’d rather watch someone roll a ball of yarn on stage with intention and focus than watch someone do trick after trick with nothing fueling it. I love having a theater background because I come at performance from a different perspective, with a different understanding of where character and direction come from, and an understanding of how important both of those things are. I don’t lead from technique, so my movement is rather pedestrian at times, which can feel more accessible, more approachable.
What do you think is the biggest challenge facing artists today?
For me, when I am thinking of creating work… how do we get funding for projects? No one teaches us this. It’s not part of schooling. But I think it should be, and if there are workshops out there regarding this, I’d love to know of them and promote them. How to market ourselves, how to apply for grants, how to write a grant proposal, how to write a letter to an agent, to a museum, to a curator. How to be a little more productive and proactive in our artistry, in our lives, in our projects. The audiences are there, the resources seem limited.
Another challenge that comes to mind: are we creating art because we have something we want to say or are we creating art for Instagram and likes and popularity and acceptance and validation… and are those mutually exclusive? Would we create art if those things didn’t exist? what would our motivations be to then create things. To just create them? It’s something me and the collective talk about a lot. Why are we doing this? Is my self-worth tied up with the response I get from others? I’m not saying art for Instagram is not valid. I mean, we post every photo we put up on our website also to our Instagram. It’s just something I think about going to events and shows… was this created so we could take a photo of it and post it or does it move the conversation forward in some way or give me a different perspective on something… and can both of those happen at once? I don’t see a lot of it. I see a lot of half-naked people and colorful walls as backdrops masquerading as ‘art’. For me, I want something that challenges me, my thoughts and my ideas, or inspires me to be more human, more alive, more compassionate, more myself.
How or where can people see your work? How can people support your work?
As I said, I teach Monday nights at the sweat spot from 745-9 pm. Currently, I’m in the Transparent: Musicale Finale as Jesus, if you watched Euphoria on HBO, I was in the last scene of the last episode. I’m in a Doritos commercial with Chance the Rapper and Lionel Richie that’s running now. I have some live performances coming up that I promote through Facebook and Instagram, so if you are interested, follow me there, but also you don’t have to. I get uncomfortable even saying that. Follow me there. ugh. Like, who f*cking cares. Come see me, don’t come to see me. But GO SEE SOMETHING! Find artists that speak to you and support them! I guess those platforms are really the only way to promote stuff these days, so I don’t know. (shrug emoji)
Contact Info:
- Website: dannydolan.website and vomir.website
- Instagram: @ddwhitebread
Image Credit:
Roman Udalov, Jon Kerwin, David Wilson, JP Russell, Rolling Blackouts
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