Ronald K Brown, Raw and Resilient

After taking a field trip in the second grade to see the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Ronald K. Brown was inspired to take his first dance class at Bedford Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation, a Brooklyn-based community center. Several years later, after turning down a college scholarship for journalism, Brown made the life-altering decision to become a choreographer.

Ronald K. Brown/Evidence in “Upside Down” by Brown. Photograph by Quinn Wharton

And in 1985, just shy of his nineteenth birthday, he did something audacious: He founded Ronald K. Brown/Evidence, a dance troupe that fuses African diasporic traditions with ballet, contemporary, hip-hop, postmodern and beyond. Indeed, Brown is not only one of America’s most sought-after choreographers—with commissions from, among other companies, AAADT, Ballet Hispanico and Malpaso Dance Company—he’s also racked up numerous awards, including two New York Dance and Performance “Bessie” Awards (1998 and 2026), the Martha Hill Mid-Career Achievement Award (2024) and a Dance Teacher Award of Distinction (2024).

Today, the company tours extensively in the US and internationally, with visits including performances in Cuba, Brazil, France Nigeria, Senegal and the United Kingdom. On October 8-10, Evidence comes to the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts, bringing a program of four works spanning more than 25 years of Brown’s creative life. Indeed, in 2024, the New York Times’ Gia Kourlas wrote that, “Brown has a masterful way of digging into spirituality, of giving it a hypnotic groove. The stage can seem buoyant, as if celestial bodies are dancing on clouds.”

Through a unique repertory of choreographies and community-based, intergenerational education programs, Brown’s work is designed to empower, educate and connect. A staunch advocate for the growth of the African American dance community, he continues to be instrumental in encouraging young dancers to choreograph and to develop careers in dance.

Even after suffering a stroke in 2021, where he spent five weeks under 24-hour care and had to relearn basic functions, including walking, Brown has been resilient. He is, after all, a dancer and choreographer honed by years spent telling stories through movement—raw, honest moves whose roots come from a deep spiritual place.

Fjord Review spoke with Brown over Zoom, with topics ranging from the Wallis program and keeping a dance troupe together for some forty years to what excites him about this generation of dancers and dance makers.

You founded Evidence in 1985, so congratulations on your 41st season. I’m wondering what continues to surprise you about the company, about yourself as an artist, and what are you still searching for through dance?

I'm happily surprised that people are still excited to see Evidence after four decades. When I started the company, it was a month before my 19th birthday. I just believed that I knew I needed to make a space for Evidence. And I'm so glad that I followed the advice of my teachers, my family and here we are.

I'm happy that I had the audacity. I'm encouraged by the passion and versatility of the dancers that inspire me every day. These dancers are so brilliant and generous. It fills my heart.

Your work draws on African diasporic traditions alongside modern and other dance forms. When you’re making a new piece, how do you keep those traditions alive while still allowing the movement language to evolve?

Well, the beautiful thing about dance, and especially traditional dance is that the tradition lives in peoples’ bodies, so there's always an expansion to it. I go into the studio and just let the information and ideas come through my body and share all of it with the dancers. I never come in with steps decided, the music or the images. I just dance it out, and they follow me along as I improvise. Then I go, “Okay, that’s it.”

Ronald K. Brown. Photograph by Quinn Wharton

Regarding the Wallis program: From “Upside Down” (1998), and “Come Ye” (2002), through “Clear as Tear Water” (2006) to “Max Roach 100/Tender Warriors” (2024), the works span more than 25 years of your creative life. When you see these pieces together on one program, do you recognize a through-line between the artist you were when making “Upside Down” and the artist who created “Tender Warriors?”

It's all me. I mean, the thing that is consistent is [that] the work is really about having your feet on the ground, and your relationship to the earth. I had a conversation with the late Ms. Judith Jamison, who was working with Pearl Primus on a solo, and she said, “Ron, you’re dancing on top of the ground. I want you to dance on the earth. To do it, have your feet planted on the earth.”I said, “I get it—the relationship between the earth and the sky; be on the earth, then fly like angels.” These dancers do that.

Your dancemaking process varies, so what comes first—the music, the steps, the concept?

In [two of] the pieces we're doing at the Wallis, the “Max Roach 100/Tender Warriors” [2024], is a percussion suite [that] came to me as an assignment from Richard Colton, who had a relationship with the Max Roach estate. They wanted to have a choreographer choreograph to his album that he made after his visit to Cuba.

I’m not a fan of assignments, but the album was long and beautiful, and we decided which pieces we could choreograph to so I can celebrate the dance and music of Cuba through the lens of Max Roach.

“Upside Down” [1998] is a piece I built from a larger piece, “Destiny,” where everything's already decided, and we just have to follow instructions. It’s a metaphor for when you feel like your life is in chaos; it’s upside down. We just got to listen to what the most high God and the ancestors want us to do. It’s about being obedient to get out of that chaos.

This brings me to the question of what you look for in a dancer?

I look for a dancer that’s agile in their training, open in their spirit, because I need a passion, but also a certain kind of humility. I can’t have a whole bunch of divas on stage. People believe the work is about service.

Samiya Lynnice in “Upside Down” by Brown. Photograph by Quinn Wharton

You’ve created more than 30 works for Evidence while also choreographing for other companies, including seven dances for Ailey. What changes in your process when you create on dancers outside Evidence?

We just had a rehearsal with the company before they went on their European tour, and one of the dancers said, “Oh, you rehearse like you're paying for this place.” And I said, “Yes, everything is vital.” So yeah, there's an urgency to how I work.

There were a lot of new dancers who I hadn’t worked with, so they had to come to the understanding that these are the expectations. I think at this point, after 30 years, they understand that I have high expectations and requirements that you have to step up when you're in the space with them. I'm grateful that the organization also understands what's required to do the work; what the expectations are.

Your works frequently hold spirituality, history, community and social struggle together. Is there a distinction for you between making a dance that is political and making one that is spiritual?

It's so interesting, because I don't find any distinctions. When my former booking agent, said, “So, bro, I have to ask you, is everything about God?” I said, “I think so. Why not?” I'll be teaching somewhere, and the student will come and say, “Oh, thank you so much. I didn't even know you were allowed to dance about God. Who told that to you?”

“Oh, God did.” So, you think when students and artists speak like that—talking about God as a political issue—or, yeah, it's life, but it's being a Black man who believes in God and doing things correctly, I don't know why that's political, but I guess this is where we live now.

You’ve devoted substantial energy to education and encouraging young dancers to choreograph. What are you seeing in this generation of dance makers that excites you?

I find myself sharing my mantra with other young dancers: Work for the sake of the work, and not for the sake of the goal, and fall in love with work and purpose. I am not saying you don't have goals, but don't strive to be a superstar. And don’t think you’re a superstar already. Fame and blessings will come to you if you dedicate yourself to work and purpose. It’s so rewarding.

Arcell [Cabuag, Ron’s life partner and associate artistic director] and I directed a school for young people here in Brooklyn, and one of the 10-year-olds, Jason, saw me walking down the hallway and knew I had a stroke and said, “You’re walking around like nothing happened.”

Well, that’s amazing, because the etiquette and the focus that you learn in dancing, you can become whatever you want to become. It’s so incredible that if you just give them the tools to be a global citizen then they do what they need to do. So, I'm grateful to meet young people of all ages.

Arcell and I were working with some students at Suny Purchase, and these dancers are so incredibly hungry and beautiful. There’s no fear in their dancing. I’m so grateful to see that the next generation is coming along, and we're in good hands.

Demetrius Burns, Malcolm Miles Young, and Khalia Campbell in “Max Roach 100/Tender Warriors” by Ronald K. Brown. Photograph by Quinn Wharton

You saw Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater on a second-grade field trip, something that led you to dance. If you could speak to that second grader today, what would you tell him?

Don't be afraid to study dance. Fear is the thief of blessings, so be brave and go. You're not the only boy in class but keep going because other boys will come into the class later. I thought growing up that I wanted to be a ballet dancer, because my mother had these encyclopedias, and I knew about Arthur Mitchell and Dance Theatre of Harlem. At 15 years old, I was like, “Oh, you can't be ballet dancing now,” so I didn't really start studying seriously until I graduated from high school.

Then, I was like, “Oh, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.” But because after that second grade trip, when I started making up dances, my mother took me to a dance studio at Bed Stuy Restoration, where the company has been rehearsing for over 20 years. She took me to the studio, and I said, “Mom, there's 80 girls here.” It wasn't 80 girls, but if you're the only boy, you feel like that.”

It’s no secret that you had a stroke five years ago. Since you’ve spent your whole life communicating through your body, what was it like to suddenly have to relearn things that had always been instinctive?

It's been so amazing. It’s almost like becoming a toddler again; it's really learning again, and a little bit of remembering. But to feel the muscles and the nerve endings wake up is such an amazing process, because the left side, I knew that the left arm would kind of take the longest to recover, and right now, I feel the nerve endings of my back, under my scapula, it’s like, “Oh, okay, you're waking up.”

It's remarkable to feel your body coming back to life, because no one knows if the nerve endings are dead or are they asleep? For me, it feels like they're coming back to life. Doctors told my family five years ago that it might take me a year to walk—that I may not walk again. And I was like, “What are they talking about, because I'm going to dance.” And my therapist, said, “Ron, I was hard on you, because I could see in your eyes that you're not gonna give up!”

And we’re so glad you haven’t, Ron! Where do you see yourself in the next five to ten years?

I'm the oldest of four, and now that all of our siblings are adults, I feel like I can move somewhere where we could have a garden and grow some food. I live in New York, I live at home, but I want a home where I can be out of the cold, and go to the garden and get some greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, then come back to New York, or travel with the company when necessary. And yeah, I would keep the company.

Victoria Looseleaf

Victoria Looseleaf is an award-winning, Los Angeles-based international arts journalist who covers music and dance festivals around the world. Among the many publications she has contributed to are the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Dance Magazine and KCET’s Artbound. In addition, she taught dance history at USC and Santa Monica College. Looseleaf’s novella-in-verse, Isn't It Rich? is available from Amazon, and and her latest book, Russ & Iggy’s Art Alphabet with illustrations by JT Steiny, was recently published by Red Sky Presents. Looseleaf can be reached through X, Facebook, Instagram and Linked In, as well as at her online arts magazine ArtNowLA.

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