"The essence of all art is to have pleasure in giving pleasure."

-- Mikhail Baryshnikov

As reality TV shows go, So You Think You Can Dance is the unlikeliest of hits: No one’s throwing temper tantrums on the Fox show, no one’s serving up diva ‘tude or pursuing world domination through Machiavellian manipulations. There are no scandals, no promises of riches or recording contracts. There are no Susan Boyle surprises. 

This is no Dancing with the Stars, where formerly famous faces with little or no dance experience suit up on ABC for a chance at resuscitating flat-lined careers. Nor is this anything like Oxygen’s Dance Your Ass Off, where contestants get served an extra dose of humiliation with their weight loss regimen. 

This is not about the pursuit of fame—or infamy.

This is about the pursuit of love, and the old-school rewards of sweat-drenched labor. It’s about skill and technique and the virtues of trying again, and again, and again, until you get it right. Or close to right. This is about dance with a capital “D,” where the Black Eyed Peas might perform, but so will ballet great Desmond Richardson. This is where you can see SYTYCD judge Debbie Allen getting all verklempt with it, declaring, “We’re evangelizing dance.”

SYTYCD, whose Season 5 finale is this week, is all about evangelizing for the highly trained nobodies who’ve dedicated their very short lifetimes to perfecting their craft. “Craft” is the operative word here. Unlike American Idol—SYTYCD shares the same creators—there’s no fat recording contract waiting for the winner, no guarantee of fame. Sure, the winner takes home $250,000 in prize money, but SYTYCD dancers aren’t likely to be stalked by TMZ paparazzi, a la Kelly Clarkson or star in a made-for-TV docudrama a la Fantasia. 

More likely than not, once it’s all over, the SYTYCD winner who’s voted “America’s Favorite Dancer” on Thursday will slip back into anonymity. (Whatever happened to the exquisite Danny Tidwell, the former American Ballet Theater dancer and first runner-up from Season 3?) Such is a dancer’s life. Notwithstanding Baryshnikov, Gregory Hines or Fred Astaire, it’s the exceedingly rare dancer who becomes a household name. If you’re lucky, you manage to earn a living doing what you most love to do—and pray that injuries don’t cut your career short. If you’re lucky. 

And in these uncertain economic times, a dancer’s life is even more uncertain. A coveted spot in the New York City Ballet or the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater—jobs reserved for the best of the best—no longer offers the sense of security that it once did.