Before going to the Spring Forward Festival in Germany, there were a few times when I mistakenly called its presenter ‘airwaves’ or ‘aerospace’ instead of Aerowaves. Was it because I had associated Aerowaves with the will to connect, to advance, and to explore? Then came the visit to the Festival, which made me wonder if they were slips of the tongue or moments of foresight.
In 1996, John Ashford, then Director of The Place in London, brought together a small group of European dance colleagues to form Aerowaves, a platform to bring emerging choreographers and their dance to new audiences across Europe. Ashford led the growth of this initiative to a network of partners in 34 countries before he passed away in December 2023. As if to testify to its magnitude, the 2024 iteration of Spring Forward Festival featured 20 dance works selected out of 750 submissions, which will also be promoted through cross-border performances in the partners’ networks.
Yet the Festival is not just about performance, which is but one component of the dance ecology. There are multiple efforts to nurture practitioners in different roles, including the ‘Springback Academy’ for 10 emerging writers resident in Europe, selected through an open call to be mentored by professional journalists; ‘Start Up Forum’, to offer guidance to a group of emerging presenters to address current programming issues; ‘Artists’ Encounter’, for 10 local artists to attend a workshop on international collaboration; and ‘Artist Development and the Buddy System’, which offers support on self-presentation, communication and other issues faced by young independent artists.
Whose Europe?
Europe as a geographical notion has for centuries been an evolving and, at times, contested one. For the Festival to position itself as the ‘dance across Europe’, whose Europe is at stake? If money speaks loudly, the Festival’s partial funding from Creative Europe promotes a level playing field for the 27 member states of the European Union. I may well be speculating but can’t help noticing an effort to even out the appearance by member countries, for one would think that, considering the sheer population and history in contemporary dance development, wouldn’t there be a higher share from some countries than others? If there is a redistributing hand, what kind of defy and define gesture does it make?
As an Asian audience member, it is eye-opening for me to see how choreographers from Cyprus, Greece, or Hungary approach ‘contemporary dance’, while I am also curious what it means for them to come under the massive ‘pan-European’ umbrella. As the Schengen treaty renders border-crossing between member countries less and less a noticeable experience, does this entail a renewed awareness of what were once called Eastern and Western Europe? How does the touring opportunity supported by a funding with shades of political and economic agenda have a bearing on the reflection of identity – European, or not?
Artistry and dependencies
Out of the 20 works presented in the Festival, 8 of them are solos, 8 duets. Arguably, some of these works we see in 2024 might have been created during the great lockdown when it was impossible for a large company of dancers to get together. But let’s also be mindful of their ‘tour-friendliness’ – small number of performers, simple or no set, pedestrian costume, audio and lighting effects within the parameters of the venues – an attribute not only practical for the presenters but also more and more accepted by the artists as a condition instead of a limitation. For artistic endeavour to be visible, it must rely on a network of dependency and collective links, as Howard Becker told us back in 1974 in his sociological analysis of art (‘Art as Collective Action’, American Sociological Review, December 1974). Not all institutions are interested in the business of dictating other people’s aesthetics but works that go beyond their resource capacity simply cannot be performed. Art happens everywhere but it is more readily conceived as art in some places of distribution than others, for example, theatres. As cultural products are more and more formally and professionally distributed, such a dynamic of the interplay between artistry and dependencies will likely continue to shape contemporary dance in the next decades of the 21st century.
The notion of ‘body’ as the contested site of history, oppression and identity continues to make its way into dance. Workpiece by Cie A M A (Switzerland) examines the physical and social conditions of labour, and their effects on the body. Lithuanian-born Anna-Marija Adomaityte performs on a treadmill to the live music of Gautier Teuscher, her movements informed by her experience working in a McDonald’s kitchen. A woman-machine, she turns her head to an invisible screen where orders are displayed, exhausting gestures of packaging while her feet move non-stop to catch up with the speed of the treadmill, or that of a fast-food order system. Monotonous, repetitive, without a trace of emotion. For once we pride ourselves with the mastering of tools while the human body has now become the extension of the machine.
A body beyond your control may well be a possessed body, as Chara Kotsali (Greece) tells us in to be possessed. To the backdrop of layers after layers of black and white images of women taken over by devils, Kostali lip-syncs the voice recordings of their testimonies of being possessed. She crawls and twitches, moves fervidly, talking without speaking, losing herself in other people’s literal and symbolic voices. Stories and discourses that are never going to leave us alone, including those of one’s ancestors. Looking into the family archive of personal anecdotes, Belgian-French-Tunisian artist Habib Ben Tanfous makes an intimate inquiry into what shapes the ‘I’ we refer to in Ici je lègue ce qui ne m’appartient pas, presenting his body as the living testimony to the dichotomy of memory and history: the daily experience growing up as a non-white in Europe coupled with his responsibility to hand down the Tunisian heritage which his body has not encountered.
The disinclination to move
What does one make of the disinclination to move witnessed in a dance festival? Unlike Ivana Müller who proposes stillness as a form of movement, or Maria Hassabi who interrupts the mobility of ‘art objects’ in the context of art museums, these groups of young choreographers (in their 20s or early 30s) don’t seem to think much about the need to make extensive movements while dancing. While this may be regarded as a continuation of the defiance of stylised, institutionalised dance language since the 1990s, or how ‘dance’ is understood by the digital natives, I read this disinclination as a mute and passive submission to the reality this generation finds itself in. Alienated, confused, and deprived of aspirations, there isn’t the pleasure to motivate their movements, physically and spiritually.
Trevoga (the Netherlands) meshes online fantasies and brutal reality in 11 3 8 7. Three shiny, youthful bodies in trendy styling spend a considerable part of the performance as standing-by avatars: swaying slightly, staring without looking, flexing their muscles to commands beyond their own consciousness. They move from one spot to another to take a selfie, spit some blood on the floor, or snort ketamine. Not having any insight into their situations nor searching for communication with the spectators may explain the lack of development of the movement vocabularies.
A similar stagnancy can be found in Fatigue by Viktor Szeri (Hungary). In 40 minutes of non-stop poundings of electronic music and abstract video images, the dancer sways his pelvis to a consistent breadth and speed, not responding to the environment, rejecting his body’s motor tendency to speed up or elaborate as the repetition builds. ‘…a choreography on fatigue, on wanting nothing. He explores the limits and tolerance of his own body through the filter of burnout’ – these sentences taken from the programme notes seem an apt description of how Fatigue comes across to me.
Alienation is also the result of an ever-present distance between the private self and its public persona on social media; and that between our digital and corporeal presence. You can change your profile picture a few times a day without moving your butt from the sofa. The two performers of Les Idoles (France) shift their weight from one foot to the next throughout REFACE while their faces go through incessant transformations. Their witty use of adhesive tapes, chewing gums, plasters, plastic wraps, and markers leads us through a journey of mutability. As the receding make-up reveals more and more of the performers’ faces, are their identities coming through?
Alienation is also the result of an ever-present distance between the private self and its public persona on social media; and that between our digital and corporeal presence. You can change your profile picture a few times a day without moving your butt from the sofa. The two performers of Les Idoles (France) shift their weight from one foot to the next throughout REFACE while their faces go through incessant transformations. Their witty use of adhesive tapes, chewing gums, plasters, plastic wraps, and markers leads us through a journey of mutability. As the receding make-up reveals more and more of the performers’ faces, are their identities coming through?
At the opposite end of disinclination is the unflinching belief of movements, to its most intense possibility and its deviation from theatrical dance vocabularies. Choreographer Yotam Peled (Germany) and the two performers in Where the Boys Are shared training backgrounds in circus and martial arts, influences deployed extensively in their technique-demanding duets and contact improvisation. A school gym as the performance venue serves as an extra layer of reference to the piece, reminding us of how our bodies succumbed to discipline in those student days. Peled introduces verbal script and colourful music to the piece but in my mind, the emotional texture already exists in the very dedication to the movements by the performers. All that is needed is more trust on the articulative capacity of the body.
On this note, Sarah Baltzinger & Isaiah Wilson (Luxembourg /France) demonstrate a higher confidence in the voice of their bodies in MEGASTRUCTURE. Technically demanding, this duet is a plethora of speed, flexibility, muscle command and weight distribution skilfulness. However, instead of celebrating the amplitude of the human body, the piece has an undertone of the weight of endurance in situations of no exit. When the load on your back gets too heavy but dumping it is not an option, bend further.
Concerning the high proportion of solo and duet dance works and the distribution across countries, I am not sure if the stretch of ‘dance’ is a conscious curatorial direction, or a result of the proposals received. What I do see is the disappearing boundary between dance, acrobatics, gymnastics, sports, and gestural articulations. Cabraqimera by Catarina Miranda (Portugal), a quartet on roller skates, is a case in point, though I am not sure artistically where the wheels lead us. On the other hand, Tom Cassani (United Kingdom) and his magic (and magical!) performance Iterations is an excellent demonstration of choreography in the sense of structure and precision of movements, and performance qualities made perfect through repetition, self-reflection, and imagination.
Imagination is where the beauty lies when the moving bodies are concealed by darkness. In A BEGINNING #16161D by Aurora Bauzà & Pere Jou (Spain), the audiences’ eyes struggle to follow what remains barely visible: sounds of singing, breathing, the rustling fabrics, and dims of lights attached to the performers’ hands. Relieved from the haemorrhage of digital images and immersed in angelic singing, the audiences are gently led to the recognition of the presence of the others. The literal journey from darkness to light in the theatre is at the same time an individual’s journey from disorientation to tranquility.
Concerning the high proportion of solo and duet dance works and the distribution across countries, I am not sure if the stretch of ‘dance’ is a conscious curatorial direction, or a result of the proposals received. What I do see is the disappearing boundary between dance, acrobatics, gymnastics, sports, and gestural articulations. Cabraqimera by Catarina Miranda (Portugal), a quartet on roller skates, is a case in point, though I am not sure artistically where the wheels lead us. On the other hand, Tom Cassani (United Kingdom) and his magic (and magical!) performance Iterations is an excellent demonstration of choreography in the sense of structure and precision of movements, and performance qualities made perfect through repetition, self-reflection, and imagination.
Imagination is where the beauty lies when the moving bodies are concealed by darkness. In A BEGINNING #16161D by Aurora Bauzà & Pere Jou (Spain), the audiences’ eyes struggle to follow what remains barely visible: sounds of singing, breathing, the rustling fabrics, and dims of lights attached to the performers’ hands. Relieved from the haemorrhage of digital images and immersed in angelic singing, the audiences are gently led to the recognition of the presence of the others. The literal journey from darkness to light in the theatre is at the same time an individual’s journey from disorientation to tranquility.
Defying definition
To go back and forth between three cities: Darmstadt, Wiesbaden, and Mainz to attend 20 performances within 3 days is undoubtedly a challenge of physical and mental capacity. Yet this intense presentation format, the appearance of one choreographic strategy after the next like models on a runway, really calls for a reflection on ‘diversity’. One thing I find missing among these works is the lack of interrogation into the performer-spectator positions, physically and symbolically. Otherwise, the Festival’s stakeholders have to an extent demonstrated a will to defy (what dance usually means) and define (what dance can mean). Practitioners of this comparatively marginal art form continue to call attention to its contour while forever trying to redraw it so they might become more than who they are.