Photo

Clockwise from top left: Daniil Simkin captured Stella Abrera after a promotion; Adrian Danchig-Waring’s self-portrait; Craig Hall’s photo of a subway rider; Lauren Lovette before surgery.

Deformed toenails, eating disorders and backstabbing jealousy — that’s a quick survey of ballet stereotypes. But with Instagram, dancers have found a way to break through the tulle and tiaras by presenting backstage life on their terms.

Devin Alberda, a member of the New York City Ballet corps admired for the way he captures ballet’s unguarded moments, knows that there is much to be gleaned in what happens off the stage. In his behind-the-scenes Instagram series “If You Can See Them, They Can See You,” he expands the audience’s line of sight. As he recently put it, “What I’m trying to do is widen the aperture and let in a little more light.”

Ballet is, in many ways, a superhuman art form, but it’s important to remember that dancers are still human. Mr. Alberda, for example, said he wanted to show that they are more than “false gods and goddesses,” but not the other extreme, either: “The kid next door who happens to do something really interesting, but don’t worry, they’re just like you.”

Instagram, which can of course be a means of self-promotion, is also a way to focus on original content. Perhaps it’s not surprising that dancers, so accustomed to speaking with their bodies, can also speak with a lens. Who better than a dancer knows how to say something by showing it?

Standouts include Mr. Alberda and Craig Hall, another City Ballet dancer whose photography has become a continuing art project. Maria Kochetkova, of San Francisco Ballet and now American Ballet Theater, posts the usual dancer and vacation shots but also demonstrates a flair for avant-garde fashion and a love of oversize glasses. Others, like Sara Mearns and Lauren Lovette of City Ballet, treat Instagram like a diary. Earlier this summer, Ms. Lovette posted an image of herself in a hospital bed before surgery. “A lot of dancers have had an extra bone removed, and why not show them that it’s not the worst thing in the world?” Ms. Lovette said in a recent interview. “I like being raw with people. I like that onstage, too.”

So far, the shot of the summer belongs to Daniil Simkin of Ballet Theater. He captured Stella Abrera as she learned that she had been promoted to principal dancer: Seated on the floor in a hoodie, sweats and point shoes, she crosses her hands at her chest and squeezes her eyes tightly — disbelief and joy rolled into one. Lately, Adrian Danchig-Waring of City Ballet has been experimenting with a double exposure app to create collages. And Sean Suozzi’s portraits of his fellow dancers at City Ballet before or after dancing have an unsettling honesty: Although they appear straightforward, almost impassive, you can see vulnerability, relief and euphoria in their faces.

As with all things in social media, institutions can be slow to figure out what is acceptable. They also have different approaches. City Ballet encouraged the use of Instagram. San Francisco Ballet is revamping its social media policy but invites its dancers to have a presence in that world. They are asked to respect artistic property and to hold off on releasing information about casting, promotions and programming. Pacific Northwest Ballet encourages dancers to use social media and operates on the idea of trust; problems are addressed on an individual basis. And at Miami City Ballet, dancers are not permitted to take photographs without the company’s consent. (The social media staff in the marketing department, however, does solicit dancers for photographs, blog posts and videos.)

There was some drama this summer at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center in upstate New York when the smartphone-wielding dancers of New York City Ballet received an email reminding them about a 2012 agreement between their union, the American Guild of Musical Artists, and the company about photography and social media. It stated that dancers would not be able to post images or video depicting choreography in performance or in onstage dress rehearsals including sets, costumes and lighting.

Mr. Alberda suddenly stopped posting images, although he has since resumed, and said he was looking forward to continuing when the company begins rehearsals at the end of August. Ashley Bouder, in response to what she assumed was censorship, began posting pictures of Enid, her Boston terrier.

Rob Daniels, a spokesman for City Ballet, said in an email that he recognized that some of the dancers thought the policy had changed, but that “at no time were N.Y.C.B. dancers told that they could no longer post images on Instagram, and any dancers’ decision not to post images from Saratoga permitted by the policy was their own.”

As it stands, onstage photography before or after a performance is permitted until stage lighting is turned on; during performances, photography in the wings is allowed, but not shots of the stage.

Before the fall season, the American Guild of Musical Artists will hold discussions with City Ballet to determine what, if any, adjustments should be made to the company’s agreement. This fall, City Ballet plans to start its own Instagram platform; at Ballet Theater, there is no formal social media policy, but there is a general Instagram account into which dancers, unsupervised, can feed images.

Aside from performance shots, Instagram provides information. It’s one thing to hear that Ms. Mearns had acute mountain sickness in Colorado — and later canceled two New York performances — but it’s another to see an image of her, clearly ill, at Vail Valley Medical Center. Other tidbits filtered through Instagram: Maria Kowroski’s pregnancy and Marcelo Gomes’s news that he would be performing in Matthew Bourne’s “The Car Man.” Yet what’s more stimulating is seeing the world through a dancer’s eye.

Janie Taylor, retired from City Ballet and now a répétiteur and costume designer, can make stacks of books look like a work of art. Mr. Hall has also veered away from dancer-based images — although his poignant portraits, including one of Ms. Taylor, show he has a way with a bare face — with his series “Take the F Train.” In it, he shoots strangers in black and white on the subway. “I feel lucky to have another creative outlet that’s not as physical,” he said. “I get to present something and let people see it through my eyes. I think all of my photos tell a story.”

His focus is mainly older people and children; for him, the subway is another stage. “I started taking pictures of people who were performing and then I was like, ‘No, I want to see the silent performers,’ ” he said. “I want to see the interaction between a mother and a son or someone who’s just looking off into space. It’s kind of like I get into a private area — their soul — for just a split second, and that’s all I need.”

Mr. Alberda reveals a mix of vulnerability and vitality in photos of his favorite subjects, like Meaghan Dutton O’Hara. (She “has the most magnificent eyes that you can get lost inside of,” he said.) Ms. O’Hara, along with Rebecca Krohn, is part of what he calls his Shelley Duvall tribe. Mr. Alberda has muses and recently created a slide show for the Look3 Festival of the Photograph, which showcases his aesthetic. Mr. Danchig-Waring said that such images had taught him to view his company differently and to be more aware of the “explosive moments of interactions that happen all day.”

Mr. Alberda said he realized that there is a gravitational pull toward a stage bathed in lights, but this doesn’t interest him. “It takes someone’s full being to make dance on this level, and it’s really fun to see those quiet moments, like when someone’s putting on their headpiece,” he said. “It’s like they’re preparing to show themselves to a large audience, and you see that moment when they’re unmasking — that may be in fixing ribbons or in checking their hair or even when they’re picking out wedgies. It’s silly when we talk about them, but in a photograph it can be revelatory.”