Fontys, Tilburg 26/04/2024
13:00
Sunny weather, few clouds. Feels like 12°
This morning I had some conversations with MKE students in the morning. I am their critical friend, a sounding board for their thoughts and experiences in their Master’s thesis. A role I enjoy. Listening and reflecting with them is valuable and fascinating. It's incredible what steps they take when someone simply listens to them. Searching for words to describe the questions woven into their thinking, they unknowingly sketch their own answers. Often, I rephrase what they tell me, and then they feel they have a breakthrough. It's amazing how many answers are latent in a question!
After these listening sessions, I set myself in motion and walk to the Piushaven. The sun is shining, a rarity lately. The weather conditions have partly caused me to neglect the research for too long. Normally, the weather wouldn't deter me. I have danced in snow and rain. But severe fatigue led to a fear of getting sick from the cold or rain.
In Antwerp, I can go straight home after the dance sessions to shower or change into dry clothes. Here in Tilburg, it's a bit different. Bringing a second set of clothes requires more organization and hassle. I also always travel by train. Anyway, these are perhaps excuses to avoid thinking about the countless questions in my head and body. I feel like I still have some unfinished business here in the harbor.
The pleasant bike ride with Wim van Stam (Dans Brabant) made me think a lot. We cycled past a number of places where dance performances had taken place during festivals like Making Space and Dansjacht in the recent past. Wim then shared his memories and experiences about the performances, the location, and the audience's reactions. It was striking that some of these locations had become unrecognizable because they had completely changed in appearance. Redesigned, a new purpose, ... For example, in the Theresia district, a square had been so rearranged that we passed it three times before Wim was sure it was indeed the square we were looking for. Now there is a large circular dog park in the middle of the square. I could ask the local residents if they have memories of the dance performances. But the question of how it affected life around the square becomes much less relevant. The entire square has changed, so life automatically changed with it.
When we stood at Piushaven, Wim told me that he is also searching for the relevance of dance in public space. We discussed terms like ‘spectators,’ ‘interruption,’ ‘interference,’ ‘function,’ ...
We asked ourselves questions like ‘Should dance in public space disrupt the function of a location?’ We particularly had this in mind for places in the commercial center of Tilburg. Of course, it is nice when an intervention stops time and carefully captures the spectator’s attention. But maybe it is also in that word ‘carefully.’
Too often, Wim felt that dancers and creators were not careful but deliberately provocative in shared public space. In this, we recognized a common ground. When I dance, I try to provoke as little as possible. Rather, I want to observe and gently confront. Just like listening to the students, I reflect back what the environment and its users give me. But in a way that does not force or overwhelm them. At most, it is a reflection of their own thinking.
When I arrive at Piushaven, the sun is still shining and I estimate it to be about 16° by now. I am not dressed for this at all. I am wearing a thick knitted sweater, black pants, and a black turtleneck under the sweater. After walking around a bit, I sit down on the deck at the head of the harbor. What I would have avoided before is now evident. There are spectators here. Young people hanging out on a bench. A man under a tree listening to music from a portable speaker. A Slavic language rapping incomprehensible expressions. Piushaven is a colorful community today. Ladies with shopping bags, a gentleman with a walker, a childcare worker with a wagon full of toddlers, all shuffle by at their own pace.
When I dance on the deck, I don’t feel any gaze clinging to my skin. It’s not because of the sweater or the turtleneck, it feels different. What I mean by a gaze clinging to my skin is that I feel the questioning, somewhat surprised gaze of passersby or those present within the context. But at this moment, I do not experience that. Even the man with the speaker looks at his shoes while smoking a cigarette.
I continue dancing, stretching my arms and legs as far as possible to draw the longest lines through the environment. By positioning my entire body on the deck, stretched out on my back, I try to break through the everyday. I lift my leg and point my shoe tip to the sun. But even that does not attract attention.
A man on a balcony plucks the dead leaves from his geraniums. I take it as my mission to instill a stillness within his actions. How do I get him to lift his downward gaze from the small terrace plant to the wider environment? Of course, he is accustomed to this environment. He sees this place every day. A change in his terrace plant, which has a relatively short life cycle, will therefore be more noticeable to him than a change in this environment.
I position myself in the first position of classical ballet. My posture changes, my attention and awareness change. Classical ballet has a different kind of attention than contemporary dance. Contemporary dance is aware of the environment, blending the dancer’s energy with the energy of the location. Whether it is a theater or public space. Classical ballet is primarily aware of its own physical energy. It creates a different kind of presence. And that is noticeable. When I make my first few movements, eyes do turn towards me. Even the man on the balcony looks up. And I wonder what it is that makes this environment sensitive to it.
Temps Lié is an exercise for the continuity of movement through various positions of the body. It is essentially a journey of the body through positions. And the comparison with the journey of the body through the environment is easily made. There are many different possibilities. Only the feet and legs make the journey from fifth position, through second position and back to fifth position. Or the arms are involved, creating a certain complexity in coordination. The legs can also be lifted higher, which provides a challenge for the dancer in maintaining balance. And one develops quadriceps strength because this exercise must be performed slowly and with a certain continuity or uninterrupted flow.
I go for it, but my shoes’ rubber soles get stuck between the ridges of the planks on the deck. So, I decide to take off my shoes. The structure of the ridges is noticeable. I feel grounded.
This feels good. Time stands still. An interruption occurs. My physical and mental presence is concentrated in the vertical line of my body. I make myself as long as possible. And where I couldn’t cut through the space with wide-spread limbs, I now easily cut through the space simply by assuming this position. It’s as if the environment holds its breath. And from the moment I extend my right foot forward to make the first transition to another position, the environment breathes with me in the rhythm of the Temps Lié.
This is it. It weaves through the air, through the molecules of the context. The exciting, maybe tense, aspect of classical ballet. Exciting? Tense! It feels very intense. I go through the exercise in several variations. Even the young people on the bench fall silent and give me their observing gaze. The sun is still shining, and I get very warm. Is it the cocktail of concentration, tension, both in the muscles and mental effort, the stillness hanging in the air...? I don’t know. But when I stop my exercise, I take off my socks and sit on the edge of the deck. The water is high enough, and I dip my feet in the clear water. The cooling and the liquid wet feel so good on my feet. The youngsters people laugh out loud. I laugh with them. It feels like a kind of catharsis.
When I let my feet dry and put my socks back on, the man with the speaker speaks to me. He says I should dance to his music. But for me, the dance here is complete. The tension is resolved, the movement has settled. I want to leave it as it is by leaving the context and letting it return to itself. We have a short superficial conversation about the weather and say goodbye. I don’t leave a chalk silhouette today. I find my wet footprints more than enough.
I need some time to reflect and seek a neutral environment.I come to the Koningsplein. The gray wide expanse where people only pass by. No one stops on this square; it is only crossed. This seems to me the suitable place to shake off the tension and stand still at what has just happened to me. So, I place my bag in the middle of the square and dance. Somewhat wobbly, somewhat clumsy, and mostly just into nothingness. Not classical ballet but meaningless movements. Shaking, turning, jumping...
The pigeons on the square walk around me. They do not feel threatened by my presence or movement. Nor do they look up or pay attention to this action. I feel free and can think while my body loosens up.
How is it that classical ballet has grabbed the focus? What is it in Tilburg that attracts this attention? Various random thoughts swirl through my mind. They seem like the bread crumbs laid out here for the pigeons. I try to pick them up one by one and question them. Is it the craftsmanship of the ballet that connects in this context?What is the link with the city?Has a kind of familiarity with contemporary dance in public spaces arisen due to the festivals that have taken place here?Is it because it is less free and more predictable?Is it less threatening?Are dancers sometimes perceived as threatening here?Because they move unpredictably?Because they disrupt the order of the day?Or is it still the artisanal aspect?In the city center, there are a few artisanal shops. A repair service for handmade jewelry and clocks. A bakery. A cake shop. A leather goods store. Tilburg also has its past with the textile industry. The artisanal is intertwined with the city.Is it that after all?I try to pick up and question my thought crumbs one by one. The pigeons already gone to look elsewhere.
The square slowly presents itself to me. At first, I didn't pay attention to the square. Only to my thoughts. But now I see the civil servants of the Stadswinkel looking at me. They sit at their desks next to the window, overlooking this square.A small white Volkswagen Up is parked under one of the windows. A city worker drives a trailer onto the square. He sets up iron frames for market stalls. The small white car is slowly but surely being enclosed by the iron frames. After a while almost the entire square is enclosed by these frames. Tomorrow is Koningsdag (King's Day) and I think there might be a big market taking place at this location. The worker with the trailer suddenly drives to the entrance of the parking garage beneath the square. So actually away from the square. But he stays there with his vehicle and gets out. He leans against the hood and takes a waiting stance. I wonder what he is waiting for.
As I follow one of the lines in the concrete surface with my steps, an older lady approaches me. "Good job. Keep it up!" she calls to me before continuing her walk. I am surprised. What should I keep up?
I have to laugh. It makes me happy. "Have a nice day," I wish her. We laugh at each other.
It is a small interaction. So small that you could easily classify it under everyday habits and social conventions. But it is the optimism in her message that touches me. It felt like a ray of sunshine on this desolate square. She found it worthwhile to interrupt her crossing of this location. She delivered a message.
I am pulled out of my thoughts by a man who asks if I know where the entrance to the City Shop is. He holds a grubby piece of paper. On his dark blue coat, I see dark stains. He looks at me uncertainly and comes a bit closer. I hold the piece of paper with him to read it. I see a note of a time and Stadswinkel. The handwriting is round and elegant. Almost feminine, one might think. The man is tall and burly, but insecure. I point him in the direction and walk with him to the entrance of the City Shop. I leave my bag in the middle of the square. There is no moment when I think it wouldn't be safe here. It feels familiar enough to do this.
When the man steps through the revolving door of the City Shop, I decide it has been enough for today. My head hasn't been able to shake out all the thought crumbs. On the contrary, it seems like I am only discovering more.
With orange chalk, I draw a silhouette around my feet by my bag.
Here I made steps, although today it was more like standing still.
To put everything in perspective, I take my bag and sit on the wall by the parking garage. The man with the trailer gets into his vehicle and drives it to the middle of the square. Where I had been doodling with my thoughts and my body for half an hour, he sets up the frames for the market stalls. Has he been patiently waiting all this time? While he completely enclosed the small white car...
What a wonderful universe this square is.
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