Ah! I am my own worst critic. Compassion towards myself is a lesson yet not fully learnt. Watching performances and photographic registers of my shows can be scary, although I consciously know it´s just my hiper critical eye that sees the faults, the ones that are there and the ones I imagine. My critical eye is more than enough; it dispenses any external criticism.
One thing´s for sure: I always do my best, from my heart. It´s not only a question of knowledge, experience and inspiration; not only a rich career built exclusively on my talent(s). It´s a way of living: delivering all or nothing. I shouldn´t feel bad about looking bad in photos from shows but I (kind of) do. Then I remember looking good is not the point of my work. I´m not a model but an Artist. Art is beyond any definition of beauty.
Furthermore, I´m not a good poser while I´m dancing. It´s a fact – I must accept it and move on. Or I dance or I pose – the focus can´t be in both, simultaneously, with good results on the dance part.
I prefer to look like hell, most of the times, for the sake of a performance that impacts my audience where it should: in their hearts.