Category: Dance

REVIEW: A Night With Boy Blue – Generation Blue

Published on by Manmeet K WaliaLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

 A sense of community, legacy, and sheer joy

Boy Blue’s Generation Blue at the Barbican was more than just a showcase of hip-hop and street dance. It was a celebration of community, legacy, and sheer joy. With nearly 200 performers taking over the stage, ranging from ten-year-olds to seasoned professionals, the evening was filled with vitality, movement and the unmistakable energy that only a dance family like Boy Blue can bring.

From the very start, the tone was set by presenter Ashley Jay, who was nothing short of hilarious. His banter, charm and comic timing gave the night a warm, welcoming energy, and kept the audience constantly engaged between segments. It was refreshing to see someone hold the space with such ease, reminding us that performance is as much about connection as it is about craft.

The performance was more than just entertainment; it was a compelling invitation into their world. Though at points the programme felt like an extended advert for their training pathway, from after-school clubs to higher education it still managed to ground itself in sincerity. The audience was witnessing the living, breathing result of that system: passionate dancers having the time of their lives on stage.

Five different age groups performed, with dancers as young as ten holding their own in a packed theatre. One of the most touching moments came when the youngest group took the stage. At an age where many would fear the spotlight, these children danced confidently, visibly supported by their teachers who moved alongside them on stage. The cheers that erupted from the audience in that moment said everything.

Boy Blue’s motto-Educate, Entertain, Inspire, echoed through the evening. Every piece showcased something different: dance-offs, clever formations, shifting silhouettes and narrative-driven choreography. There was real range in the movement vocabularies used, and the lighting design added drama and nuance throughout. Whether it was sharp, synchronised sequences or more experimental forms, the variety made the long programme feel worth the stretch.

Beyond the choreography, what stood out was a sense of belonging. This was a company rooted in care and creativity, presenting dance as something more than performance, it was resistance, expression, and joy all rolled into one. The use of lighting was particularly effective, shifting from soft glows to stark spotlights, enhancing both the intimacy and intensity of the work. It sculpted the stage space, highlighting moments of vulnerability, tension, and triumph, and gave the night its theatrical edge. In a time where global headlines feel increasingly heavy, this evening gave many of us a rare chance to forget, even if just for a while, and lose ourselves in rhythm and movement. As someone who claims to have two left feet, I found myself genuinely tempted to sign up to the Boy Blue Academy by the end of the evening. I left the theatre not just entertained but genuinely inspired. It reminded me that dance can be both a serious art form and an open invitation. Generation Blue didn’t just show us a performance; it gave us a glimpse into a world we might want to step into ourselves.

REVIEW: A Festival of Korean Dance: Jungle

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Jungle is not a narrative dance, but an ecosystem of gestures and rhythms

It’s not often that a performance truly resists being captured in words, but Jungle, choreographed by Sung-yong Kim for the Korea National Contemporary Dance Company (KNCDC), does just that. It almost dares you to try and describe it, while at the same time insisting you simply experience it. Sung-yong Kim, whose philosophy centres on the belief that “dance is a movement that cannot be described in words,” stays completely true to that ethos. Watching Jungle is like witnessing a living organism evolve in real time, vast, elusive, and pulsing with life.

The performance opened with the 16 dancers walking in a slow, perfect circle beneath a shaft of vertical light. It was immediately ritualistic, the kind of image that calls something ancient into the room. The overhead lighting created the feeling of sunlight filtering through dense foliage of a deep jungle. One by one, dancers broke from the circle, stepping into the light and unleashing sequences of movement that were strikingly agile, yet almost non-human. At times, they seemed like creatures part organic, part mechanical, automatons with an animal’s grace.

There is a fascinating tension in Sung-yong Kim’s work between discipline and instinct, reminiscent in some ways of Merce Cunningham. Like Cunningham,  Sung-yong Kim creates work that pairs classical precision with contemporary unpredictability. You feel the deep-rooted training of the dancers, but the forms they embody seem utterly new. Jungle is not a narrative dance, but an ecosystem of gestures and rhythms.

At one breathtaking moment, the entire group found verticality together in a rare pause in the fragmented energy and moved as one, swaying like a field of tall grass responding to wind. Then, in a flash, the structure dissolved again, returning to the asynchronous energy of solo and group exploration.

Light and music were essential collaborators in this work. The lighting design ranged from the ceremonial to the symbolic, at times evoking danger, at others simply the pure joy of being bathed in light. The music, never quite matching the movement but constantly responding to it, felt like a dialogue rather than a soundtrack. Throughout most of the piece, a low, steady beat thrummed beneath the choreography like a heartbeat of the jungle, quiet but insistent, ancient and alive.

Costumes were understated in earthy, neutral tones, allowing the focus to remain entirely on the bodies, the shapes they created, and the space they inhabited. The lack of ornamentation felt deliberate; in this world, it was the movement itself that carried meaning.

As part of The Korean Dance Festival at The Place, Jungle stands out as both a highlight and a statement of intent. This festival continues to introduce London audiences to the richness, diversity, and innovation of contemporary Korean dance, and Jungle was a powerful reminder of just how essential that conversation is.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Choel-in Jung

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

We sat down with Cheol-in Jeong for an exclusive interview. Cheol-in Jung is the choreographer of 0g (Zero grams) by Melancholy Dance Company, part of A Festival of Korean Dance. 0g is performed with A Complementary Set – Disappearing with An Impact by Choi x Kang Project at Pavilion Dance South West 9th May and Dance City 15th May, and with Shinsegae by Ji-hye Chung at The Place on 13th May.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Choel-in Jung @melancholydancecompany #AFestivalOfKoreanDance

‘Among the works we have created, this is the piece I usually recommend to those who are less familiar with dance.’

#dance #festival #london

https://wp.me/pdXz8Y-5qb

1. The concept of “free fall” is central to 0g. What drew you to this idea as a metaphor for human existence, and how did you translate it physically into choreography?

Personally, I found myself particularly drawn to moments where clarity in movement stood out. When physical dynamics were applied to both human bodies and objects, I began to perceive them as truly alive. That was a sense of vividness—something about the way the motion animated everything it touched. 

The keyword ‘falling’ implies that something is in descent. But rather than focusing on its arrival at the ground, I became more interested in the suspended state in between—where, crucially, object and person stand as equals. They become equal, governed by the same force, sharing the same condition.

When I began to think of falling as a metaphor for human life, a thought emerged: perhaps we are all constantly falling in one way or another, or even if we have already fallen, we spend our entire lives striving to rise again. Within that motion lie countless stories and processes. Yet, I believe they can be brought together under a single, unifying idea—that human existence is shaped by the continuous repetition of falling and the desire to rise.

2. Sisyphus represents a kind of eternal repetition. How does 0g attempt to break—or embrace—that concept through movement?

I believe that both Sisyphus and humankind are each shaping their own journey through life. Rather than seeing his action as simply pushing a rock uphill, what truly matters is how he came to encounter the rock, how he chooses to climb with it, and what he thinks and feels along the way—these are the sources of meaning that unfold through the temporality of life. In that sense, even within the repetitive patterns of life, we can discover and choose limitless meanings.

The same holds true for movement. While the movement may be framed by the simple notions of rising and falling, it is the way these motions shift and grow through repetition that reminds us, moment by moment, that we are thinking — and that we are alive. And I believe that meaning is something we choose.

Therefore, repetition is not something dull or meaningless, but a process through which we can discover freedom and a sense of agency.

3. What was the initial spark or image that led to the creation of 0g? Was there a moment where you knew this had to become a full work?

The starting point of this work was a time when I was hospitalised for two months after a car accident, unable to do anything but lie in bed. Observing both myself and the patients around me, I became keenly aware of the strange coexistence of despair and hope. There was a desperate longing to return to the life I once knew, coupled with a crushing fear that I might have to live like that forever. From this emotional turmoil grew the conviction that I had to seek meaning in life for myself, and that realisation became the seed of this work.

It took a long time to reach completion. The process began with an abstract sensation — something deeply personal and intangible — and unfolded gradually as I stripped away the unnecessary to return to the essence. Over time, the work came to be expressed through simple physical movements as metaphors. Through many rehearsals and performances, it gradually evolved, expanding through the dancers’ bodies and merging with imagery to become what it is today.

4. The piece won the 2020 Dance Arts Award—how did that recognition impact you or your company?

It was an unexpected award, and I felt it recognised the small, sincere effort I had made with a pure and honest heart. I wouldn’t say the award brought about any major changes for us, but it certainly added meaning to the memory of our efforts.

5. What has the audience response been like to 0g? Have any interpretations surprised you or shifted the way you see your own work?

First of all, I believe the work is highly intuitive in terms of movement. As a result, most audiences tend to focus on the dancers’ physicality and skill, often expressing admiration for their strength and stamina, and commenting on the demands placed on them.

Some audiences try to interpret the imagery and scenes through a scientific lens, applying formulas and theories to what they observe on stage. In the past, students from the Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST) — one of South Korea’s leading science and engineering universities — as well as young children with a keen interest in science, showed great enthusiasm for the work.

6. If someone unfamiliar with contemporary dance sees 0g for the first time, what do you hope they leave thinking or feeling?

Among the works we have created, this is the piece I usually recommend to those who are less familiar with dance.

Rather than being abstract, the work is built on clear and deliberate foundations. One of its key features is that each movement acts as a conceptual building block, coming together to create a dynamic narrative.

Yet the work is not simply about technical skill or physical expression; I hope audiences will also be able to feel the deeper story of human life that runs through it.

REVIEW: Feminal

Published on by jaybinghamLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“An intense, captivating exploration of femininity and sensuality”

Feminal is an eye-opening portrayal of womanhood. Through the medium of dance, with singing included in the latter part of the show, performer Becca Hoback conveys a story of repression and revelation. We see Hoback’s physicality, skilled yet folded in on itself, become more fluid and elongated as she realises the lengths to which she is allowed to go – that is, she breaks free from the notion of ‘what is allowed’. Her femininity, fighting to be seen, shines through on her face as well as in her body. 

Feminal contains two stories. The first is ‘Initial Dissent’, choreographed by Hoback. Inspired by her strict religious upbringing, we watch Hoback’s transformation as her mind begins to divorce itself from its ideas of purity. The piece is suspenseful, gripping as a thriller would be; haunting, in a way. The experiences of women and girls have been explored in so many wonderful ways over the years, but Initial Dissent truly feels refreshing. It is exciting to watch the phenomenon of ‘seeing the light’ being conveyed by Hoback in such a visceral way.  

The second story in Feminal is ‘A Girl’, choreographed by Roy Assaf in collaboration with Ariel Freedman. Where ‘Initial Dissent’ contained much smoother movements, ‘A Girl’ is rather sharp and bizarre. Hoback goes from singing to slapping parts of her body to kissing the air – all the carefree ways of a girl before her mind and body are tested in the most frightening ways. This piece is incredibly insightful, with touches of nostalgia; the more we learn about the world, the more we realise there is much to be sad about. Hoback screams the line “Girls just wanna have fun” until it becomes eerie and distressing. ‘A Girl’ is such a strong piece, so different from ‘Initial Dissent’ and yet a necessary accompaniment. 

The lighting and sound design are stunning, every mark being hit to perfection! The dimming of the lights,  the complete darkness, the colours, the echoes – everything is just as integral to Feminal as Hoback’s work is. Feminal is a ‘cool’ play, a social commentary that is not just gorgeous to watch for its technicalities, but genuinely interesting and worth recommending to all people. The choices of music and presence on the stage are incredibly well thought out by Hoback, and the Space Theatre technician Ally (whom I was pleasantly surprised to find out was only a student!) worked so well to bring Hoback’s story to life. 

We had the privilege of being able to speak with Hoback after the show. She provided many fantastic insights that enhanced our interpretation and overall experience of Feminal. She spoke about the restrictions she has faced throughout her life – her conservative upbringing, the strict prestige of ballet, and the insecure need as a six-foot-tall woman to make herself smaller. Feminal is both unique and relatable. Hoback’s display of breaking free from the shackles of patriarchy is reminiscent of the realisations that all women have gone through. The stories are dark and yet enlightening. They are significant, very much worthy of being platformed.  

I absolutely recommend Feminal to everyone, it is a fantastic show. Kudos to all involved! Feminal runs until 10th May at The Space Theatre. Tickets are available here.

Image credit: Beth Chalmers

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Katherina Radeva

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Bottoms is the newest work from cutting-edge, fearless performance makers Two Destination Language, which makes its World Premiere as part of Dance International Glasgow, 14 – 15 May, 2025. Known for embracing joy on stage, and celebrating the power and movement of non-traditional dance bodies, Two Destination Language’s Bottoms explores the tradition of Can-Can, a dance which first evolved during the Industrial Revolution as a way for workers to escape social norms, let off steam and express themselves through wild displays of physical prowess. We sat down with Co-Director and Performer, Katherina Radeva to learn more about the production.

You describe Bottoms as a space of joy and abandon, but it’s also clearly political. How do you balance those two things—delight and defiance—on stage?

I honestly feel that joy is political. It is a political statement to look for joy in the current global political climate. Claiming a moment of delight is refusing to let the bastards get you down. If politicians don’t have to take their influence terribly seriously, and we’ve seen that in Boris as well as Trump, then there’s a defiance inherent in holding onto joy despite the horrifying impacts of military, environmental and economic misadventure. Those 60 minutes people choose to spend with us – we want them to feel like a release: leaving them entertained and surprised and thoughtful and hopefully with questions about the world we share. The balance is like life – you can’t have light without dark and you can’t recognise the shadows without the light.

The show reclaims the Can-Can from its commercialised, glamourised image. What surprised you most when digging into the dance’s roots and original spirit?

Workers, mostly men, would gather to drink after work and they began to throw some shapes, showing off and letting off steam. This was in opposition to the formally defined social dances of the time. Then, women joined the party by kicking their legs high along with the men. Then, business spotted an opportunity, and welcomed the cancan in their cabarets: they adopted and monetised the popular dance. At the same time Toulouse Lautrec was painting and drawing the girls kicking their legs and then, as now, the theatre management figured that sex sells. For functional reasons, many women’s underwear had an open crotch at the time, and so the high kicks teased audiences with what they might glimpse. So, the cancan was popularised for those who could pay to see the show, and occupy a particular kind of gaze as its audience.

I guess the most surprising thing for us was that men started it. You can really imagine the joy that dancing brought them, at the end of a hard working day. There’s something really delightful about imagining the dance before it was brought into the conformity of an entertainment to be bought and sold.

You mention that none of your dancers would meet the Moulin Rouge’s traditional criteria. How does that shift the energy and meaning of the Can-Can in Bottoms?

Well, none us would! You’ve got to be tall and thin, extremely fit with long legs, tiny waist etc. We are all gloriously different from that. I mean, I am a size 14, 43 year old perimenoposal woman – and I’m reclaiming the dance, remaking it for my body and the glorious group of dancers I’m part of in this.

We have deconstructed the dance choreographically – there is recognisable cancan, but we’re questioning the spectacle, and the gaze that the dance we’re familiar with invites, and the idealised bodies it relies on. At the same time, we’re fascinated by performance, the relationship it creates between an audience member and the people they’re watching. Is there a power dynamic, and how is it constructed? What can we do to play with that relationship? The cancan is a tool which lets us retain a handful of humour while we play with those questions.

This show seems to be in conversation with how we value labour and bodies—especially in performance. As artists in a post-pandemic, burnout-heavy world, what do you want audiences to take away from that?

We are working for you: on stage, in front of your eyes, we’re working. The things we do in the show: those are our jobs. It’s a job we love doing! The delight we take in our jobs (not the endless admin and producing and hoping that our work will be fairly remunerated, but the making and performing) is real, and at the same time it’s something we’re paid for. Paid to do it, and to make it look like we enjoy it so the audience goes away satisfied. People should be paid for their work, and that work should be satisfying. Maybe that comes back to the political, so in this show, we’re working hard for you. But in not being a group of ultra-flexible super-fit people who have trained in musicals (although some of us are some of these things) we are questioning what audiences really perceive and what is of value to that audience. The bodies and labour you see are shaped by years of training and lived experiences; what you see is shaped by the work that went into creating this through rehearsals and before those in planning and researching… Like lots of work, the visible labour is only a fraction of what’s involved.

There’s a lot of humour in your work—why is that important when you’re dealing with topics like capitalism, conformity, and exhaustion?

If we took a melancholic approach, we could just accept defeat in the face of capitalism, and its demand for conformity and its insistence on exhausting us through labour and consumption. Humour can be a really powerful tool: we might not individually have a lot of power (or capital), but we can resist the demand that we take seriously the values of capitalism and its destructive attitude towards nature and people. There’s room for essays and politics, but we want to deal with some of those things by offering something to smile about.

You’re performing in Bottoms as well as co-directing. How does being in the work physically affect the way you shape the show and connect with your audience?

That wasn’t the plan. It turned out we needed another person to make the show work, and so I joined in. It has been hard to hold and carry many hats, and what feels right inside the work doesn’t always look right from outside. Video is a brilliant tool for helping all of us on stage step outside and see what we’re creating. We’re working with a really superb team of performers, shaping lots of the work together. Our process is a bit like sculpture: we’ve got a block of stone and need to let the shape inside it become visible. Sometimes, one area is beautiful but doesn’t match the whole, and we have to reshape or remove it. But also, we’re shaping it to match this company of performers: made with different people, it would look and feel different, and that’s the same with my role in it too. I can’t be in and out at any moment, so more of the design, the conceptual thinking and the composition of the work has taken place between rehearsal weeks – and I think we all benefit from those breaks.

Tickets for Bottoms can be found here.

Simeon Campbell - photography by Paul Hampartsoumian.

REVIEW: Breakin’ Convention, 4th May

Published on by Eoin FentonLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

The UK’s leading dance platform for Hip Hop and beyond heralds a golden era for street styles.

Breakin’ Convention, one of the biggest events of the dance calendar, finishes its 2025 edition with a bang in its takeover of Sadler’s Wells. The theatre is a hive of activity with grooving sessions, DJs, cyphers and graffiti murals across the building. But the main focus of Breakin’ Convention, as always, is the stellar lineup of acts taking over the main stage, all under the artistic direction of the jovial Jonzi D, guiding us through the proceedings.

The evening kicks off with BLADE FROM YOUNG performed by the youth ensemble Unity Dance Company UK. Though young, they are technically faultless and remarkably versatile — one minute they’re tearing through acrobatic floor work, the next they’re pulling out fouettés or popping en masse. The piece, which deals with knife crime among teenagers, sets the tone for a programme of introspection and emotional examination. 

Unity Dance Company UK, photography by Belinda Hawley

Max Revell’s compelling little work The Party sees a quintet of lockers manipulate a headless, suited man. The group shiver and waddle like Chaplinesque penguins in a dreamy world of sepia tones and mimery. Revell’s meditation on loss particularly comes alive as he manipulates a dangling suit and trilby hat like a marionette, sharing a duet with a spectre seen only by him. Greece’s Vasiliki Papapostolou aka Tarantism brings her signature bone-breaker articulations in PANOPTICON. The solo’s tense atmosphere is somewhat diluted by a bombastic second half and somewhat obvious allusions to a controlling higher power. Tarantism is nevertheless a performer with an uncanny talent for architectural articulation, her limbs and joints set off on some beautifully wince-inducing journeys. 

Belgian krumper Illi Wild describes his solo BeZarbi as a declaration, rather than decoration. He runs into the starkly lit stage in silence, slicing the air with strained arms and fists, stamping assertively. As the work progresses he demonstrates his possession, his hand grabs his face making him convulse and jerk. While there is no clear narrative — other than perhaps the obvious cliché of ‘the power of dance’, Wild manages to keep us captivated. He glances back at us occasionally, daring us to come into his world of extremes.

Dutch crew The Ruggeds bring Olympian breaking with 20yRS, celebrating two decades of their achievements as performers and competitors. The six lads cheer up the mood with some boy band charm as they bound about to jungle tracks in matching camo outfits. While the tricks are highly impressive they still make time for some old school grooves, showing off their choreographic know-how with a playful nonchalance. In the Lilian Baylis Studio next door, Simeon ‘Kardinal’ Campbell presents SADBOI in collaboration with the home-grown contemporary Hip Hop company BirdGang. The work is an intense and sometimes overly busy biography about existing with neurodiversity. Although hampered by some tinny sound-mixing and a clunky set, Campbell’s work has an inspiring honesty to it. This is massively helped by his charismatic presence and highly expressive mannerisms, particularly while monologuing in BSL. 

The undisputed highlight of the night comes from France with Témoin by Saïdo Lehlouh, an epic work of theatre performed by an ensemble of twenty highly individual dancers showcasing a range of styles. The work opens with a krumper on stage, pleading his case to the onlooking chorus. Bodies start to circulate the space as acapella rap verses loop and echo. Waackers spar with b-boys, people begin to run like packs of animals. Lehlouh certainly has a detached aesthetic; the dancers are dressed as pedestrians, they stare out at us from the darkened stage during frequent moments of stillness and beats only kick in sporadically. However, in this shadowy limbo, Lehlouh manages to create a piece so atmospherically rich, so fixated on the dancing body, that one can’t help but become subsumed.

Témoin by Saïdo Lehlouh, photography by Belinda Hawley 

What keeps the piece’s momentum during its lengthy hour and ten minutes is a feeling of uncertainty. Groups reconfigure, individuals peel out into rebellious solos to prove their mettle. Piercing eyes stare from the sidelines into the arena of camarades and enemies, willing one another to lead the herd. It feels as if nobody on stage is certain of what will happen next. I have seen countless dance works, but I have never felt quite as thrilled as I have by this pulsating fleshiness. Témoin demonstrates not just the choreographic voice of Saïdo Lehlouh, but that we are reaching a golden age for street styles in theatrical spaces. 

Breakin’ Convention has highlighted some of dance’s most compelling voices in Hip Hop companies like Boy Blue and Far from the Norm — one has the sense that we are now at the crest of a wave. Though grumbly nay-sayers may protest it, some of the best works of the new European canon have roots in the streets. Dance shall forevermore be moulded by its innovations.    

REVIEW: The Crucible Scottish Ballet

Published on by Robyn YarwoodLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

An elegant display of timeless anguish

Scottish Ballet’s production of The Crucible has settled in Edinburgh’s Festival theatre this week to break audiences’ hearts after an applauded run in Aberdeen. The Arthur Miller play has been reframed and retold many times since its 1953 publication, and in 2019 Scottish Ballet took on the heartbreaking tale of The Salem Witch Trials and pumped tenfold more heart into their retelling. CEO Christopher Hampson describes the production as ‘a cornerstone of Scottish Ballet’s repertoire’ and the 2025 national tour proves exactly why it is.

Adapting a story such as The Crucible into a ballet (an art form known to be accompanied by music and no speech) is no small feat as the play holds so much in its text, being a staple in English classrooms across the country where, myself included, first were introduced to Millar’s text. But actions truly speak louder than words with the emotionally charged choreography by Helen Picket, with each sequence combining the elegant artform of ballet with the gritty emotion of Salem’s tale. No words were required to make the audience weep. This review would be amiss without mentioning the stunning orchestrations that swell into every crack of the festival theatre auditorium. Composed by Peter Salem (a wonderfully fitting surname) and conducted by Daniel Parkinson.Tthe Scottish Ballet Orchestra performed each phrase as if they and the dancers were one mind. Each note in the music perfectly accented the emotion on stage.

The company themselves are to be highlighted for the soul they bring into this production. Amy McEntree
, a first dancer from the company is quoted saying ‘I hope the audience sees our dedication to the story—not just from the principal characters but from the entire cast.’ and it sure translates. Every performer has their moment to shine and individually break off a piece of the audience’s heart. No performer felt out of place.

A stand out performance is done by Kayla-Maree Tarantolo as Abigail Williams. She commands every moment she is on stage. Whether performing a solo, pas de deux, or a group sequence, she is there embodying the cruel natured Abigail with every inch of her being. We can feel her character seeth and plot through every artfully course movement. Contrastingly we have Jessica Fyfe as Elizabeth Proctor who draws attention through the softness she presents as John Proctor’s wife, even in the character’s angriest moments. With every movement she made, the stillness in the audience was palpable, as if everyone was holding in a collective breath only to be released when she rested.

Production like these are exactly why stories such as The Crucible become timeless classics. The stamp of freshness combined with its faithfulness to the original play. Another stellar production from the Scottish Ballet, this one is not to be missed.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Cheol-in Jeong

Published on by Rose-Charles RajLeave a comment

We sat down with choreographer Cheol-in Jeong to discuss their work 0g, being staged on the 13th of May at The Place.

Inspired by the repetitive and seemingly pointless actions of the mythical figure Sisyphus, 0g utilises the principle of ‘free fall movement’ to uncover the meaning of life anew within monotonous daily routines.

The concept of “free fall” is central to 0g. What drew you to this idea as a metaphor for human existence, and how did you translate it physically into choreography?

Personally, I found myself particularly drawn to moments where clarity in movement stood out. When physical dynamics were applied to both human bodies and objects, I began to perceive them as truly alive. That was a sense of vividness—something about the way the motion animated everything it touched.

The keyword ‘falling’ implies that something is in descent. But rather than focusing on its arrival at the ground, I became more interested in the suspended state in between—where, crucially, object and person stand as equals. They become equal, governed by the same force, sharing the same condition.

When I began to think of falling as a metaphor for human life, a thought emerged: perhaps we are all constantly falling in one way or another, or even if we have already fallen, we spend our entire lives striving to rise again. Within that motion lie countless stories and processes. Yet, I believe they can be brought together under a single, unifying idea—that human existence is shaped by the continuous repetition of falling and the desire to rise.

Sisyphus represents a kind of eternal repetition. How does 0g attempt to break—or embrace—that concept through movement?

I believe that both Sisyphus and humankind are each shaping their own journey through life. Rather than seeing his action as simply pushing a rock uphill, what truly matters is how he came to encounter the rock, how he chooses to climb with it, and what he thinks and feels along the way—these are the sources of meaning that unfold through the temporality of life. In that sense, even within the repetitive patterns of life, we can discover and choose limitless meanings.

The same holds true for movement. While the movement may be framed by the simple notions of rising and falling, it is the way these motions shift and grow through repetition that reminds us, moment by moment, that we are thinking — and that we are alive. And I believe that meaning is something we choose.

Therefore, repetition is not something dull or meaningless, but a process through which we can discover freedom and a sense of agency.

What was the initial spark or image that led to the creation of 0g? Was there a moment where you knew this had to become a full work?

The starting point of this work was a time when I was hospitalised for two months after a car accident, unable to do anything but lie in bed. Observing both myself and the patients around me, I became keenly aware of the strange coexistence of despair and hope. There was a desperate longing to return to the life I once knew, coupled with a crushing fear that I might have to live like that forever. From this emotional turmoil grew the conviction that I had to seek meaning in life for myself, and that realisation became the seed of this work.

It took a long time to reach completion. The process began with an abstract sensation — something deeply personal and intangible — and unfolded gradually as I stripped away the unnecessary to return to the essence. Over time, the work came to be expressed through simple physical movements as metaphors. Through many rehearsals and performances, it gradually evolved, expanding through the dancers’ bodies and merging with imagery to become what it is today.

The piece won the 2020 Dance Arts Award—how did that recognition impact you or your company?

It was an unexpected award, and I felt it recognised the small, sincere effort I had made with a pure and honest heart. I wouldn’t say the award brought about any major changes for us, but it certainly added meaning to the memory of our efforts.

What has the audience response been like to 0g? Have any interpretations surprised you or shifted the way you see your own work?

First of all, I believe the work is highly intuitive in terms of movement. As a result, most audiences tend to focus on the dancers’ physicality and skill, often expressing admiration for their strength and stamina, and commenting on the demands placed on them.

Some audiences try to interpret the imagery and scenes through a scientific lens, applying formulas and theories to what they observe on stage. In the past, students from the Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST) — one of South Korea’s leading science and engineering universities — as well as young children with a keen interest in science, showed great enthusiasm for the work.

If someone unfamiliar with contemporary dance sees 0g for the first time, what do you hope they leave thinking or feeling?

Among the works we have created, this is the piece I usually recommend to those who are less familiar with dance. Rather than being abstract, the work is built on clear and deliberate foundations. One of its key features is that each movement acts as a conceptual building block, coming together to create a dynamic narrative. Yet the work is not simply about technical skill or physical expression; I hope audiences will also be able to feel the deeper story of human life that runs through it.

Credit: Andrea Behrends

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Becca Hoback

Published on by justinemsjonesLeave a comment

Coming to the UK for the first time this spring, Nashville-born Becca Hoback and Enactor Productions present Feminal, a confronting dance-theatre double bill exploring what it means to be a woman, through gripping storytelling, choreography, and striking visuals. 

Feminal dives into deep and complex themes – what was the moment or experience that first sparked the idea for this production?

I think it’s a culmination of many different experiences and factors. I grew up with a lot of rules and expectations around my own femininity and sexuality, and as a young adult I felt like there was a massive divide between my everyday feminine identity and the kinds of qualities that I embodied and expressed in the dance studio. When I first had the chance to experience and perform Roy Assaf’s Girls, it opened a new kind of rawness and fully-body effort that connected me to my animal body – something that felt like it melded both sides of me into one cohesive woman-creature. My messiness and rawness suddenly felt connected to the way the I expressed my feminine identity, and I took those lessons forward to eventually create Initial Dissent.

Creating dance-theatre that challenges perceptions is no small feat – what has been the most surprising challenge (or breakthrough) in bringing Feminal to life?

Finding my voice – both literally as a performer, and creatively as a choreographer – has been a challenging and empowering part of the journey. A Girl challenges me to let my voice be heard. While I feel comfortable once I get to the stage, there is always a threshold I have to pass through in the rehearsal process to allow myself to fully sing, yell, chant, and scream without worrying about what other people in the building may think as I rehearse. Once that seal is broken, I can vocalise and immerse myself in the practice freely. When creating Initial Dissent, I similarly felt myself having to get comfortable with the idea of sharing this highly-theatrical and highly-stylized work – it’s something that naturally flowed out of me once I got in the zone, but I still felt the need to call the first presentation a “work-in-progress.” The structure of the piece hasn’t changed much since that first showing, but my comfortability expressing my perspective and standing by may creative choices has grown. Letting myself be seen and heard in a vulnerable state has been a big journey throughout the creation of Feminal.

Initial Dissent is a deeply personal work for you – how has the process of developing it shaped your own relationship with its themes?

Creating Initial Dissent allowed me to revisit many of the roles I played throughout my religious deconstruction process. Each scene offers a different phase of processing, and I fully try to embody the physicality, tension, mentality, and emotional state for each stage. It’s allowed me to look at the whole journey and personally own each part of the process – proudly claiming the role of the “villain” in my former-self’s world view. It’s a very different mindset than the one I grew up with.

With Feminal making its UK premiere, what excites you most about sharing this work with a London audience?

I’ve never been to London before, so I’m thrilled to have my first encounter with the community and get a sense of what resonates with folks locally. The two pieces are very different – the first is maximalist and highly theatrical, and the second is more poetically minimal stylistically. I’m so curious to learn about the similarities and differences between the UK experience and the US experience of these themes – If you do come, please stay after the show to chat!

If you could sum up the emotional journey of Feminal in three words, what would they be – and why?

Fierce, Confronting, and Vulnerable. The first pieces starts us off in mysterious territory – there’s a certain “bite” to the movement and theatricality. This rebellious spirit is immediately disarmed in the second piece, but all the while I’m looking the audience in the eyes. It’s something that could be intimidating, but I feel throughout the piece it melts into a sort of intimate rawness – of fully being seen by the audience and fully seeing the audience myself. My passion, physicality, and emotionality are on full display in both, and I aim to bring my whole self to the show each time, inviting audiences in to be just as present in the works.

What do you hope audiences take away from the experience of watching Feminal, and is there a particular moment in the show you can’t wait for them to see?

Ooh – I don’t want to give too much away! But I am excited for the audience to feel the energetic shift at the start of the second piece, A Girl. It’s a very tender moment, and I’m excited to feel the room sink into a new zone after getting immersed in the intense world of Initial Dissent. This moment in the evening feels like it will be special to experience together.

Feminal comes to The Space Theatre, London, from 7 – 10 May https://space.org.uk/feminal

Lauren Scott by Lizzie Quek

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Lauren Scott 

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

As Breakin’ Convention returns to Sadler’s Wells this May for its landmark celebration of global hip hop dance theatre, UK artist Lauren Scott joins a dynamic line-up featuring some of the most innovative talents in the scene. Performing as part of both the main Breakin’ Convention weekend and the Festival of Emerging Artists (Fes), Lauren brings a bold choreographic voice shaped by street styles and storytelling. We sat down with Lauren to talk about her journey through hip hop, her creative process, and what it means to be part of two boundary-pushing platforms spotlighting new and established voices in the culture.

Your background blends theatrical training with street dance forms like popping and hip hop. How has this dual lineage shaped the way you approach choreography, especially in this new duet with Matthew Eudu?

I wanted this piece to feel more like a play than a traditional dance performance. I’m drawn to how naturalistic theatre and set design can draw the audience in, rather than performing directly to them. That thinking led to a set design that disrupts and obscures the performance space, encouraging a sense of discovery. I approached the duet as a character-driven narrative, each dancer has their own specific mannerisms and emotional expression. It’s a way of storytelling without words, using movement to build something that feels theatrical, layered, and rich.

This is your first staged duet with Matthew—can you talk about the creative dynamic between you two as battlers and how that informed the structure or energy of the piece?

Matthew and I have known each other for years through the UK street dance community. We’ve battled together and share a common language rooted in freestyle and popping. There’s a real sense of play when we work, it’s collaborative, intuitive, and grounded in mutual trust. We spend a lot of time ‘labbing’ bouncing off ideas through improvisation and structured tasks I set. The piece evolved organically from that back-and-forth with my direction. I really value our connection, both creatively and personally, he’s not just an inspiration, but also a close friend. I know we’ll keep building together.

Your upcoming work explores the idea of confronting one’s childhood self. What sparked this concept for you personally, and how did you go about translating such an internal, emotional theme into physical language?

I’ve always been fascinated by the way our inner world changes as we grow up, how imaginative and playful we are as children, and how easy it is to lose that sense of wonder. I try to hold onto that part of myself, and this piece is about reconnecting with it. It explores the idea that our childhood selves still exist within us, and through the relationship between the two characters on stage, we’re reminded of that.

You’re blending naturalism and surrealism in the piece. How do you navigate those shifts in tone and perspective, especially when working with a style like popping that’s already so visually expressive?

Popping naturally leans into the surreal, it plays with illusions and can bend reality. I wanted to use that within a more grounded, naturalistic set to create contrast and depth. The staging helps carve out an abstract yet tangible world between the characters. For example, Matthew wears a regular suit, but yet has a television for a head, adding a surreal twist to something familiar. That tension between the real and the dreamlike is something I love playing with. I often use props and masks to tell human stories, It’s challenging but exciting to strike that balance.

Breakin’ Convention has long been a hub for global hip hop talent. What does it mean for you to present this work as part of the festival, and how do you see your voice fitting within the wider movement of hip hop theatre today?

It’s an honour and something that was once a dream to be sharing my work on the main stage with Breakin’ convention. To share my work feels very special, especially being a young, female emerging artist. There’s a queerness in the obscurity and world building within my work which I feel is fairly unorthodox within hip hop theatre – particularly within popping. There’s also femininity within the work which is an interesting intersection when using male dominated styles such as popping and hip hop and within a male dominated culture. I think it’s important to share my work for my generation but also the next generation. 

You’ve performed everywhere from Somerset House to working with brands like Nike and Formula 1. How does creating for a theatrical context like Sadler’s Wells challenge or free you differently than commercial or site-specific work?

It’s really freeing in the sense that there’s a lot of opportunity when working in a venue such as Sadlers, in terms of lighting, design and concept rather than site specific work. Work presented on stage can also be longer,  meaning I can explore ideas more fully and with more attention to detail and you have the audience at the palm of your hand with their undivided attention for those 10 minutes. My own choreographic work can be creatively more fulfilling as there’s a longer process and time to build collaboratively. For example, this work collaborates with original music from one of my favourite composers, Andrew Wasylyk, whose sounds contribute to the dream-like world that emerges. 

There’s a lot of problem solving involved in choreographic work which can be more challenging but ultimately very fulfilling when you stand back to observe what you’ve created. Seeing a seed of an idea becoming a full piece you’ve developed is a unique feeling less often found in commercial spaces as solely a dancer. 

Tickets and info : https://www.sadlerswells.com/whats-on/breakin-convention-fierce-friday/