Payal Ramchandani’s powerful new show Just Enough Madness uses the South Asian dance form of Kuchipudi to explore the silences around motherhood, miscarriage and mental health.
Catch it at Dance City, Newcastle on 22 November, followed by performances at Bradford Arts Centre on 26 March and The Lowry on 31 March. Tickets are available here.
Just Enough Madness is such a striking title. Can you share what it means to you and how it connects to the emotional core of the piece?
“Madness,” for me, is any deviation from what society deems ‘normal’ or ‘expected.’ Just Enough Madness reflects the threshold between conformity and chaos- that delicate balance where creation and collapse coexist. At its core, the piece journeys through the many silences and ecstasies of motherhood – its presence, its absences, its unspoken griefs and quiet joys. It’s about humanising the woman behind the idea of ‘motherhood,’ however brief or lasting her experience may be, and seeing her beyond the roles, myths, and ideals she’s expected to inhabit. In that sense, the title becomes a reminder, that perhaps it takes just enough madness to be whole, to feel, and to truly live one’s truth.
The work explores motherhood, miscarriage, and mental health. What inspired you to bring these silences to the stage through dance?
I’m at a stage in my life where conversations around motherhood – its desires, doubts, and absences, naturally surface. What began as personal curiosity soon became a deeper inquiry shaped by the stories and silences of women around me. I realised how often these experiences are glorified, simplified, glossed over, or left unspoken. Through Just Enough Madness, I wanted to give space to what isn’t usually voiced- the grief, confusion, and resilience that accompany motherhood and miscarriage. Dance allows me to hold these contradictions of beauty and pain, belonging and loss, without needing to resolve them. For me, this work is both a reflection and a search for understanding.
As one of the very few Kuchipudi artists in the UK, you’re helping audiences experience this beautiful classical form in a new light. How do you balance preserving tradition while exploring contemporary themes?
I believe tradition and contemporary are two sides of the same coin – what feels contemporary today could well become tradition tomorrow. Kuchipudi is the language I think, move, and feel in; it’s my vocabulary of expression. I don’t see myself as someone preserving the form – the art form is far greater than me. I’m simply a vessel through which Kuchipudi can speak about questions and experiences that feel urgent, relevant, and human. When I explore contemporary themes, I’m not stepping away from tradition, I’m allowing the tradition to breathe through today’s realities. The balance isn’t something I consciously strive for; it’s a natural outcome of my commitment to the form and my curiosity as an artist.
For people who might be seeing Kuchipudi for the first time, how would you describe what makes it unique?
Kuchipudi’s uniqueness lies in its seamless blend of dance and theatre. Rooted in the dance-drama tradition, it carries an innate theatricality where rhythm, emotion, and storytelling intertwine effortlessly. The movements are quicksilver – light, buoyant, and fluid, marked by graceful jumps and leaps, rounded arm patterns, and a characteristic sway that gives the form its lyrical quality. Traditionally performed by men as ensemble dance dramas, Kuchipudi has evolved into both- the solo and group form embraced by dancers (men and women) across the world. What makes it special is its ability to hold opposites – precision with spontaneity, spirituality with playfulness, classical rigour with theatrical freedom. It’s a form that celebrates the joy of movement and the power of expression in equal measure, speaking directly to the heart.
What do you hope audiences will feel or reflect on after experiencing Just Enough Madness?
I hope audiences feel seen, that they recognise fragments of themselves within the work. Just Enough Madness invites them to witness motherhood not as a singular experience, but as a spectrum- of nurturing and loss, joy and silence, strength and vulnerability. I hope it evokes empathy, prompting reflection on the unspoken spaces that often surround motherhood: the quiet struggles that coexist with celebration, the isolation behind smiles. If the work allows someone to look at a mother – their own, a friend, or themselves, with a little more understanding, softness, or awareness, then it has done its job. For me, it’s about holding space for what’s often left unsaid, and reminding us that to feel deeply is, in itself, an act of connection.