Startup Wrapup: Ilias Chatzigeorgiou
Read | 24 October 2024Aerowaves continued its annual Startup Forum at Spring Forward 2024 in Darmstadt, Mainz and Wiesbaden, inviting ten emerging dance presenters to be guided through the festival by five Aerowaves Partners, and to propose a curatorial project. Three projects were awarded €10,000 each to follow through, those by Ilias Chatzigeorgiou (GR), Dimitris Chimonas (CY), and for the first time a group project, co-ordinated by Samuel Retortillo (ES) with Simona Deaconescu (RO), Nina Fajdiga (SI), Tony Tran (NO) and Masako Matsushita (IT).
We have been publishing snapshots from their production journeys to track their progress, problems and practical solutions. Here, Ilias Chatzigeoriu talks about his project called DANCELLS/DANCE/FESTIVAL, which took place in the largest prison in Athens.
Interview by Betina Panagiotara
From the inside out
It’s 6:00pm, and the sun sets, casting a pink-red glow over the surroundings. I arrive at my destination, but I’m unsure where the entrance is. The heavy metal doors swing open with a buzz. I hand over my bag for screening and leave my cellphone and ID with the police at the entrance, receiving a pink card in return. This card is my ticket to Korydallos Detention Centre to attend day 2 of the DANCELLS/DANCE/FESTIVAL, curated by Ilias Chatzigeorgiou. The thought that I am in a prison, unable to leave unless they unlock these doors, fills me with unease. However, passing through the final gate is a revelation: I step into a courtyard with grass, a fountain, a charming coffee shop adorned with colourful chairs, several cats wandering about, and a soccer field where the stage is set, accompanied by white plastic chairs for the audience.
While waiting for the event to begin, I recall my first interview with Ilias, during which he second-guessed his choices, expressing his anxiety about whether the performances would be acceptable to the inmates. The lights come on, and the show begins.
Sitting in one of the chairs, I can’t help but notice two things: first, we, the outsiders, are seated behind the inmates – they are the real guests here. Second, the guards are sitting at the back, watching the performances as well, which surprises me. Later, I discuss this with Ilias, who says that while the guards were initially doubtful about the festival, “after watching the performances on the first day, they told me that what you are doing is very important. We need more events like this.”
I am watching the performances, but I can’t quite keep still. My eyes wander, trying to adjust to the environment. The stage resembles a boxing ring – marked off by red and white hazard tape – for the first solo performance. Behind it stands a wall, topped with barbed wire, a stark reminder that I am in an unusual setting for a dance festival. A woman – Mairi Giannoula – enters the stage, dressed in white and holding a microphone. As she sings and moves slowly yet powerfully, she magnetizes our gaze. Once the solo concludes, the audience erupts into enthusiastic applause. “I was genuinely thrilled to see that all of this was received with such enthusiasm by the audience,” says Ilias. Regarding the female solo, I had lingering fears that the performer might feel uncomfortable or that there would be negative comments. However, to my relief, there was complete silence during the performance, followed by applause. The response was warm, showing that they were moved by her work”.
This performance is followed by a male duet by Yotam Peled & the Free Radicals based on martial arts that brings forth issues of male vulnerability and sensitivity. How discussable are these issues in a detention centre, Ilias wonders. The inmates dispel his worries. He recounts an incident where one inmate, seated in the front, moves further back only to encourage others to come up and watch, explaining that they are missing the messages conveyed by the performances. “I was anxious,” Ilias recalls. “I could hear him say thank you for the messages, but I worried he was mocking the performers.” In reality, there was no trace of mockery. “Just so you know, we all have preconceived notions. I didn’t have much faith in the power of what we artists do. But this man kept coming back, urging his friends to sit in front, emphasizing that they could better experience the performance, the expressions, and the connection between the two young men on stage. Given my own preconceptions, I feared they might not appreciate the tenderness shared between the two men. So, I was genuinely impressed by their engagement and excitement.”
Last comes a street dance performance choreographed by Ilias, which is dynamic and joyful. The audience remains dedicated, even though we are in the third performance in a row. After a while, some inmates get up from their seats and approach the guards, asking to leave. Initially, we assumed they did not enjoy the performances and wanted to leave, but Ilias later discovered that their impatience stemmed from a desire to be invited on stage to dance with the performers: “Word had spread that, in the final act, the street dancers would invite inmates to join them.” The guards, some of whom had attended the festival the day before, explained that they just needed to wait a little longer. A few minutes later, they enthusiastically joined the dancers on stage for the finale of the festival, along with Ilias adding his voice to create a rhythmic tempo. Together, they generated a festive atmosphere, blending street dance and electronic music, transforming the space.
I hand back the pink card, get my personal belongings and exit the prison, full of thoughts and feelings about this experience, and how it has affected me as a professional from the dance community. In my interview with Ilias, I ask about the artists and their experience. How demanding is it to be on stage in a detention centre? “I have to give these artists credit for knowing the difficulty of their works and staying true to their idea, not changing it as a performer would for protection. They went all the way as they had planned initially.”
And how about the seminars that framed the festival? “We had around 30 participants,” recounts Ilias, “and a very willing group of professionals who were teaching intuitively and with empathy, adapting their approaches to meet the group’s needs.” Did they find it interesting? “In the first workshop, we introduced a blend of meditation techniques and martial arts, equipping participants with valuable breathing tools. Throughout the seminar, attendees moved freely – getting up and sitting down as they wished – while some opted to observe. The teachers respected this freedom, allowing observers to come and go as they pleased. As observers posed questions like ‘Why are we doing this?’ the teachers explained the underlying principles of defensive martial arts: ‘It’s about taking another person’s energy and transforming it instead of resisting. I don’t strike back; I redirect.’ This perspective provided insight into a fascinating way of relating to others, presenting dance as an energetic exchange rather than a confrontational act. On the second day, we focused on slow movement, which participants greatly enjoyed. The professionals explained that slower movement allowed for deeper analysis and reflection. The third day we explored popping, captivating the group with its dynamic energy.”
So, what happens next? Even the guards have expressed interest in a continuation. “I would love for these individuals to present something of their own,” responds Ilias. “We need to provide them with the opportunity to create their own work by working consistently with a choreographer over a longer period of time. Ideally, in two years, they could collaborate with a choreographer on a concept or idea. Afterwards, the choreographer could work alongside professionals outside the prison, allowing everyone to come together for a final performance on stage.” He emphasizes the importance of inviting their friends and families to watch them perform. He envisions extending the festival to three days, with the third day dedicated to family and friends as the audience.
Ilias shares some highlights from the interaction with the inmates who expressed their thoughts to the dancer-teachers: “With you, we did not feel judged or that you feared us. You were touching, lifting us, dancing with us.” For the three days of the seminars, “we forgot we were in a prison” – which speaks volumes about the project’s impact and the relationships developed between the inmates and the dancers, as well as the necessity for continued funding and support.
Ilias concludes: “In everyday life, we dancers strive for survival and often forget that what makes dance significant is its ability to communicate. This is why, out of all my experiences – festivals and performances this year – this one feels the most important.”






