From royal ballet to chicken coop: a dancer's unexpected new act
Eric Underwood, a name once synonymous with the grace and precision of the Royal Ballet, has traded the spotlight for something far quieter – the dawn chorus of a 500-year-old farm in the Chiltern Hills. The former soloist, who retired from professional dancing six years ago, is now a morning riser with a decidedly rural routine, a pivot as dramatic as any he once executed on stage.
A life less choreographed
Forget the rigorous six-hour rehearsals and the frantic rush between performances and modelling auditions. Underwood’s days now begin at five a.m., not in a rehearsal room, but tending to the chickens. “I like a pivot,” he says, a sentiment that perfectly encapsulates his remarkable transition from the world of ballet to the bucolic life he now shares with his husband, Harry Briggs.
The move, spurred by Briggs' desire to return to his family’s estate in Buckinghamshire, was a significant leap for Underwood. Having spent much of his career touring the globe’s grandest theaters, the presence of wandering chickens and the occasional escaped cow presented a novel – and charming – challenge. He joined the Dance Theatre of Harlem and American Ballet Theatre in New York before crossing the Atlantic to join the Royal Ballet in 2006. The contrast is striking; his former London home boasted a mere garden, a faint precursor to the 300 acres he now oversees.
Cultivating a new passion
Underwood’s foray into farming has been a steep learning curve. While he’d dabbled in Gardening during COVID lockdowns, developing a fondness for wildflowers, the reality of producing beef, lamb, and game proved far more demanding. “Those are tulips,” he remarks, gesturing towards raised beds bursting with potential, “and I think in the middle right there, there will be wild flowers, and raspberries.” A full-time farmer, Ollie, manages the day-to-day operations, but Underwood eagerly participates when he can, recalling a memorable 6 a.m. scramble to corral an escaped cow.
He’s even embraced the less glamorous aspects of farm life, learning to pluck pheasant and confronting the realities of the “circle of life,” as he puts it. “There are enough shows that are talking about agriculture in a sensible way,” he jokes, navigating the farm in a Polaris Ranger he learned to drive just two months ago. “It’s quite nice to look at it through a lens of fun.”
Beyond the stage, a deeper connection
Underwood’s Instagram and TikTok feeds offer a playful glimpse into his new life, a vibrant contrast to the disciplined world he once inhabited. But beyond the humor and the charming animal encounters, there’s a sense of genuine contentment. His time as a dancer, he reflects with gratitude, provided invaluable experiences and travels, yet it also fostered a “tunnel vision” that obscured the vastness of the world. Now, grounded by the daily rhythms of farm life, he finds a different kind of peace.
He and Briggs have ambitious plans for the future, including converting outbuildings into guest retreats and extending his outreach through a dance school in East London, inviting aspiring dancers to experience the tranquility of the countryside. “I come from humble beginnings,” Underwood states, “and I’ve been lucky. It’s all crazy, right? But I don’t pretend that it’s not crazy. I feel like a lot of other people deserve the experience.” The memory of a young boy enthusiastically declaring a lamb to be “curry goat” encapsulates the joyful, unexpected connections forged in this new chapter of his life.
Having once championed representation in dance, evident in his collaboration with Bloch on ballet shoes for darker skin tones, Underwood is now subtly reshaping perceptions of rural life, demonstrating that it’s a space for everyone. He arrived with preconceptions about rural England as a Black man, but has instead found a welcoming community and a slower pace that resonates deeply. The pull, he admits, has shifted; a visit to London now feels like a temporary detour before returning to the quiet solace of his fields. He’s not just a former dancer; he's a farmer, a storyteller, and a testament to the transformative power of embracing the unexpected.