Newton Moraes, like other artists, has struggled. That reality is onstage in ‘Life Under My Skin’

The stars have finally aligned for Newton Moraes.

As his Toronto company celebrates its 25th anniversary — a quarter-century marked by disappointments and setbacks as well as successes — the Brazilian-Canadian choreographer is finally able to present his troupe on the prestigious stage where he first performed as a student soon after arriving in Canada more than 30 years ago: Harbourfront Centre’s Fleck Dance Theatre.

“Life Under My Skin,” Moraes’ new 70-minute work premiering Thursday, in many ways reflects his own story. The choreography exemplifies his diverse dance background. The subject matter speaks to the daily practical struggle that dancers, indeed artists of all kinds, routinely experience, namely how to make ends meet.

“People think to be a dancer is glamorous,” said Moraes. “It’s not. It’s hard, physically and emotionally. Sometimes you have to ask yourself, ‘Why do it?’”

The answer, of course, is that being an artist is not like having a job. It’s a calling. You do it because your whole being screams that you have to. Given its precarious nature, to be an artist requires a level of discipline and commitment that is almost obsessive. And it takes a practical toll, as Moraes’ new work describes.

In Toronto’s contemporary dance scene there are no steady jobs. Dancers need side gigs to survive. If they are fortunate, it might still be in the dance realm as a teacher, but for many it means waiting tables, house cleaning, dog walking; anything to earn some much needed cash. Understandably it can lead to profound self-doubt, even depression.

Like Moraes, many of his artistic collaborators’ roots are elsewhere: Chile, India, Iran, Italy, Mexico. He invited his eight-member cast to share their own stories, allowing them to bring that into the mix during the making of “Life Under My Skin,” but the choreography still bears his hallmark.

“I’ve tapped into my choreographic DNA,” said Moraes. “After all this time you accumulate a store of images and gestures, and I’ve drawn on some of these, although overall this is an entirely new piece.”

Moraes, born in the southern city of Porto Alegre, moved to Canada in 1991 with the support of his friend, mentor and longtime partner, the late Robert Shirley, a University of Toronto anthropology professor.

Moraes was already 30 when he arrived and had a lot of dance training under his belt — Afro-Brazilian, jazz and street dance — but was eager to experience something new. He enrolled at the School of Toronto Dance Theatre and used every opportunity to perform and choreograph, slowly making his mark on the local scene with what Moraes describes as a hybrid style combining his Brazilian roots — its folklore, spirituality and exuberance — with his new-found interest, Western contemporary dance.

Despite his unwavering determination, Moraes had to struggle for recognition. His company toured to Europe and to his homeland, and his work established a following among dedicated local dance lovers, but his fellow Brazilian-Canadians seemed unimpressed.

“It is strange that I’m recognized in Brazil but not by the community here,” Moraes once lamented.

And money was tight, too. Creative talent can’t exist forever on a shoestring. Moraes had to confront a reality that has held back many artists of diverse backgrounds working outside what might be called the fashionable mainstream or latest trend. Grants were hard to get and never enough to fulfil Moraes’ artistic ambitions. He freely admits that without Shirley’s financial help his company would never have gained a foothold.

Ironically, dire as its artistic impact has been for stage performers, the pandemic brought some relief. Government support program for independent artists and the companies that hire them meant that in some cases dancers experienced a rare period of financial stability, even at the cost of not being able to practise what they love.

Moraes chose a different route. Rather than collect government cheques, he decided that getting out of his Richmond and Sherbourne streets apartment and doing something useful for others was a better option in terms of sanity and self-respect. He masked up, put on appropriate protective clothing and worked as a cleaner at a nearby condo building.

“There was a lot of disinfecting surfaces, but I made enough each month I didn’t need to apply for CERB,” Moraes said.

As pandemic restrictions eased, he was gradually able to return to choreography, working on film projects, creating solo works for dancers Pulga Muchochoma and Kathleen Rea, and bringing “Life Under My Skin” to fruition. With public funding from all three levels of government, he is now able to unveil it on the stage where his Toronto dance journey began.

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