The art and craft of solo making at Artists Encounter, Dublin 2024

With Lauren Potter and Eva Recacha

Artists Encounter debuted in Dublin at Spring Forward 2023, so it was fitting that two of the Aerowaves artists from that year (plus one performer) featured when the programme returned to the city last November. Lauren Potter (performer), Eva Recacha and Jean Baptiste Baele were joined by Silvia Gribaudi (Aerowaves Artist 2010) at Dance Ireland for a five-day deep dive into the art and craft of creating a solo. They shared the benefit of their wisdom and considerable experience with eleven Irish-based artists from backgrounds as diverse as ballet and ballroom, contemporary and classical Indian dance. Facilitated by dance dramaturg, Monica Gillette, the content of the workshops grew from the contexts of the solos the artists had presented at Spring Forward, excerpts of which were also performed as part of the Artists Encounter programme.

Potter was the muse and subject of Recacha’s Because I Can, a collage of movement, text and sound that riffs on memories and embraces the invisibility of female middle age. It became the jumping off point for an exploration of materiality in choreography – what is a piece made of and how can these elements be layered and juxtaposed to create something that is more than, and often very different from the sum of its parts. With this approach, Recacha offers an almost business-like take to solo-making. Her process begins with the subject matter of the work – a list of topics, which evolve into a collection of sensory materials, making the ideas tangible through sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. The next step is to play with how these elements might be structured; do they happen in sequence or at the same time? Are the connections harmonious or not? Is it a dialogue or a series of interruptions? What sort of rhythm can be generated with the elements, and what tone do they have – cheeky, funny, serious? Are the references universal or will they mean different things to different people? Highlighting the transactional nature of a theatre event, Recacha notes the importance of considering the audience’s perspective – what will they think or feel about it? – but also points out that choreographers can exercise control over how much they choose to reveal, and how porous or impermeable they make their message.

Potter herself leads a daily morning practice that is open to the broader Dublin dance community. The nourishing ninety minutes warms up the body and sets an open, welcoming tone for the day, not least because Potter herself engages with the sessions wholeheartedly. (My notes make me smile at the memory – “Lauren is back with cartoon character runs and finger-wagging choreography”, “Lauren is bopping around the space – everybody else joins in”, “skipping, crawling, airplaning – lots of joy.”) The workshop she facilitates starts with a focused conversation where one person speaks about their current relationship with dance, and the other actively listens. The thoughts expressed become the source material for a solo or other shareable piece of work that the listener creates to encapsulate the speaker. When the finished piece is presented, the describer and described are together in the space, both in full view of the audience. We watch in real time as the described sees themselves through the eyes of another and some are genuinely moved to find themselves recognised and acknowledged. This must have been pleasing for Potter whose relationship with dance has changed from admiring splendour and technique to searching for real honesty and vulnerability on stage.

Eva Recacha's workshop © Anna Kusnirenko

Lauren Potter and Eva Recacha © Anna Kusnirenko

Morning practice with Lauren Potter © Anna Kusnirenko

With Silvia Gribaudi

Like Because I Can, Silvia Gribaudi’s A Corpo Libero also tugs at the fabric of expectation around womanhood. The work embraces humour and absurdity to send up and break down the restrictions and norms imposed on the female body, and Gribaudi’s workshops lean into its light-hearted madness. Her ‘karaoke choreography’ has participants and facilitators alike belting out musical favourites, jazz standards and dancefloor anthems – often without knowing the words – while embodying the character of the song with their movements. The result is a riotous cacophony of joints and limbs, their rhythmic flailing shaking off fears and inhibitions. Next comes an exercise in role play – Fashion Week in Dublin prompts preening, posing and posturing as our ‘models’ catwalk in ones, twos and groups, their energy ranging from strong and sexy to vain and vacuous before getting figuratively then literally fierce. Tugging at their clothes, some drop down on all fours, writhing and roaring like wild animals, others tear off their tops and swing them lossoo-style over their heads before whipping each other and the floor with them, using them for a game of Catch, then throwing them up in the air to watch them rain down like parachutes. If it all sounds like a bit too much fun, maybe it is – Gribaudi takes a moment to reflect on the importance of rhythm and positioning onstage. She notes that however out-of-control the energy and dynamic becomes, the performer always needs to know where they are, though this doesn’t mean that they can’t play within the space. She illustrates this with what can best be described as a game of ‘jumper keepy-uppy’ – bodies weave in and out to keep a jumper airborne, with heartfelt cries of “nooooooo!!!” when it hits the floor.

Gribaudi then launches us into another makebelieve scenario, complimenting the attendees on the work that made their dance troupe famous and asking them to recreate the elements of the piece that she outlines. It’s a device that goes from bananas to potatoes, when the dancers “reenact” their movement study of The Great Famine, which meanders from the sublime to the wonderfully ridiculous (“which side of the border are your Taytos from?”) in a flurry of creative chaos. She later explains that she uses this task to underline the importance of not getting lost within an improvisation – not only is it always necessary to come back to the choreography, it is also important to consider the outside eye and make sure that the movement is connecting with the observer in the way that was intended. She picks out structure as a key consideration as the right structure facilitates freedom, pleasure and joy within the movement.

Workshop with Silvia Gribaudi © Anna Kushnirenko

Dany Mitzman and Silvia Gribaudi © Anna Kushnirenko

With Jean-Baptiste Baele

Nabinam is Jean Baptiste Baele’s autobiographical origins story and its confessional tone set the scene for a radical exploration of vulnerability. Baele’s workshops foster a safe space that aims to silence the negative voices – both within and without – that stop us from acting on instinct and limit our actions to what we consider acceptable. Pointing out that it is necessary to feel ridiculous to get to a point of competence and validation, he urges the participants to park any judgement or self-doubt and use the studio to embrace anything they’d ever been curious to explore; to play with ideas for as long as they’re interesting then stop when they cease to be. The exercise prompts a range of responses – there are demonic vocalisations as sounds are pushed out of a contorted body; a face pulls and twists as its owner finds a way to dance with her tongue; there’s bird calling, raucous singing and imitations of insects; somebody plays with his feet. The discussion afterwards brings up issues around choices, specifically the difficulty in deciding between options when a number of ideas present themselves during an improvisation. For Baele, the solution is simple – if you stay in the moment, you will always choose the option that is meant to be.

Gently but steadily steering the Artists Encounter ship throughout the week is dance dramaturg Monica Gillette. From embodying ideas to finding the potential in the room, her interventions pull out the threads that connect the various artists’ solos and sessions, proposing tasks that chime with, reinforce and build upon the concepts introduced throughout the week. Hosting daily discussions, she invites feedback and reflection to help artists and participants alike to process insights and ideas, the sheer volume of which might otherwise overwhelm. Offering advice on how the group might support each other dramaturgically, she says to focus any feedback on what drew you in and what pushed you away, quoting Liz Lerman’s maxim that the best feedback is the kind that makes you excited to get back into the studio and keep going.

What might not be apparent from this account but is abundantly clear in Dany Mitzman’s podcast is how joyous and inspiring the Artists Encounter experience was for both facilitators and participants. Contemplating what they had gained from the week, the eleven local artists mention a myriad of positives – clarity; confidence; new perspectives; tools; strategies; techniques to change mood and energy; approaches to overcome ‘stuckness’ and find new paths to original work; a sense of resilience; the motivation to stop thinking and start moving; support; time to reflect and break old habits; a renewed love of dancing, creating and learning; freedom to take risks. However, one theme that emerges again and again is friendship – the sense of community and belonging forged by this Artists Encounter may be its most valuable and enduring legacy.