Jacques

Sensitive Content Warning: Foul language due to quotes from true characters.

“In this dance company, I need motherfuckers.” Jacques Heim deadpanned at the cattle call of auditionees surrounding his feet. I gulped and sat up straighter. Seven words in, and I wondered if I had made the wrong decision in coming here. “I need creators, and collaborators. I need athletes and acrobats,” he went on cutting every syllable with a knife in his thick French accent. Fear and intrigue flickered inside me. He looked mad dressed in all black and combat boots, a pair of orange colored lenses on his head. “Our movement style combines ballet, modern, hip hop, gymnastics, martial arts, and acrobatics. We bring these influences together to explore the human condition in relation to its architectural environment. The result of that exploration is the work of Diavolo—Architecture In Motion.” I wiped sweat from my palms as his words hung in the air. Jacques allowed a smile to bloom his eyes before scanning the room for weakness, searching for his first round of cuts. 

With a background in competitive gymnastics and a soon-to-be dance degree from the University of Texas at Austin, I saw my strength and potential intersect in the captivating work of Diavolo. Three months prior to this daunting moment, I watched my dream career unfold as the undeniable athleticism of Jacques Heim’s cast took the stage at Bass Concert Hall in Austin, Texas. I watched with tears in my eyes as these ten men and women thrilled the theater with the kind of impassioned drive and mental rigor fit for an Olympian. While I didn’t know Jacques Heim beyond his biography listed in the program, I knew he was the man behind it all and that I needed to do whatever it took to be a part of his work. 

“We have minimum strength requirements that you will need to meet today in order to be considered. In addition to the strength test, our current cast will guide you through a series of versatile choreographic phrases, as well as test your improvisation, partnering, and of course, your potential to fly.” My brain worked to untangle his words from their web of French emphasis. I knew as well as anyone in this warehouse that the universal draw to Diavolo was their extraordinary flying feats off structures built from scratch straight from Jacques’ brilliant mind. Diavolo’s signature piece, Trajectoire, a 3,000 lb rocking vessel that launches performers skyward nearly thirty-feet to be caught by three catchers below in the absence of nets or harnesses, is first to come to mind. Critics didn’t call Jacques’ work the “NFL of dance” for nothing.

“If you continue to progress through each stage of our audition, there will be a personal interview at the end of the day. I am looking forward to seeing what each of you may contribute to the work of Diavolo.” Jacques stood from his chair and lifted his brows in the direction of his rehearsal director. My attention went to Shauna whose warm smile reminded me of why I came here—to prove to Jacques Heim that I was his next hire. Shauna introduced herself then instructed us to take five minutes to prepare for the first combination. I pulled my knee pads up from my ankles and double knotted my wrestling shoes before finding a spot in the front.

After the grueling eight-hour audition, I left my interview feeling too exhausted to decide how it went. I was one of four women interviewed, but I had no idea how Jacques ranked me within this final cut. Barely able to walk the next day, I caught a plane back home and waited for the phone call that would soon change my life. 

When Jacques called me two days later with an invitation to tour with Diavolo to South Korea, I assumed the brunt of my initiation was over. I had outcompeted the others and now it was time to celebrate getting my dream job. Or so I thought. Jacques told me to expect video footage from Shauna by the end of the day. That I would need to study my roles, or “tracks,” as we called them, and etch them into my muscle memory before Korea rehearsals began. Just two days after my college graduation, I caught an international flight as the newest company member of Diavolo— Architecture In Motion.

On the second day under the big top (my first tour happened to be in the context of a circus festival), Jacques’ booming voice filled the arena. “WELCOME TO BOOTCAMP, ROOKIE!” he shouted, the echo of his words penetrating my ears from the speakers in the wings. He stormed the stage from the sound booth, then declared that today I would be training the Eagle Fly, one of Diavolo’s largest flying feats off our signature boat piece, Trajectoire. 

I had been in Korea for less than two days and the last thing I anticipated was for Jacques to put the pressure of the big flies on me this soon. Never mind that my brain was at capacity and I had a premiere tonight. His approach, I was learning, was unapologetically fast-paced. If I was going to work for Jacques, the challenge to fly from Trajectoire’s peak before ever having a single show under my belt was my first indication that this job meant working outside my comfort zone. I knew the experience of twenty-two shows in twenty-five days was going to be intense, but I had no idea that the bar of expectation would be this high.

After a terrifying first attempt at the Eagle fly that left me and my catchers in a pile on the marley floor, Jacques gave me a moment to collect myself before insisting I try again. The Korean tour continued to live up to the most extreme month of my life. Thigh-size bruises, broken fingers and ribs were all a part of the bootcamp accouterment. Jacques threw me into new roles nearly every show to test my adaptability and loved to ramp up his teaching moments with high volume expletives to see how I’d respond under pressure (not great). His commitment to picking me apart wore me completely down over the course of my first season. I cried tears of fear and doubt nearly every day and wondered if I could really keep going under such enormous stress. Regardless of how belittled I often felt in his rehearsal, I understood that this was his process, and presumably, he was trying to get the most out of me. Jacques hadn’t become the the director of a world-renowned dance company by not pushing the limits.

Still, it remained difficult to persist in this turbulent environment, but I knew quitting wasn’t the answer either. Despite the literal blood, sweat and tears, I fell in love with creating and performing Diavolo’s repertoire. In fact, I had never felt so passionate about anything in my life. Every once in a while, Jacques would even throw me a bone. When we premiered Fluid Infinities at The Hollywood Bowl in September of 2013, he pulled me aside to personally thank me for my work, then raved about me to my parents who flew in from Texas to be there. It was redeeming moments like these that kept me persevering until my role in the company began to shift for the better. 

Shortly after the premiere at The Bowl, Jacques hired two new dancers who became the tangible testimony that proved I had climbed the Diavolo company ranks. Like clock-work, these newbies began absorbing the impact of Jacques’ overwhelming critiques. While I still got plenty of practical notes the way the rest of the cast did, I was no longer under his flaw-finding microscope. My contributions on and off stage became less fraught and more valued, which initiated my ability to thrive.

I broke women’s company strength records in push-ups and leg-lifts and exceeded all previous flight heights for Diavolo’s signature Front Flip Fly off the nose of Trajectoire. Ironically, I also became one of the most consistent Eagle Flyers of my time. I performed starring solos and featured duets, and also helped co-create seven new full-length works. Throughout my five seasons with Diavolo, I mentored countless new dancers that came after me, which sparked my passion for leading and teaching as well. Finally, I took my last bow with Diavolo on Season 12 of America’s Got Talent where we placed in the Top 10. 

I don’t think I ever anticipated smooth sailing when I initially took the job with Diavolo, but beyond that, I certainly didn’t presume the depths of grit and mental toughness I’d come to discover in myself. The reasons for my hardship while working for Jacques were ultimately the same reasons for my growth. Without Jacques, I never would have touched even a fraction of my proudest accomplishments.