Part of your inspiration for danses vagabondes came from your performance with the digital avatars of Delusional World by the artist Lu Yang (Festival Elektra, 2023). Could you tell us more about that?
Being able to embody these demented characters, drawn from dark fantasy and manga, freed me from a certain solemnity associated with dance. I invested them with a healthy dose of playfulness, boldness, and possibility. For me, it really meant taking a risk. As I brought these figures—gods with their head in their stomach, distorted faces, exploded bodies—to life, I found myself letting go. I could be just as extreme as them, and no one would reproach me for my age, my gender, or what I’m supposed to be. I thought that I needed to avoid the trap of being a dancer who simply slips into the avatars. That would have made me a prisoner of the worlds with which they’re associated. I took them for what they were: drawings. I was momentarily their anima and I made them dance as I wanted. Despite the technical constraints and physical difficulties, I loved doing that project. I had total carte blanche.
That performance was an immediate break from my previous piece, Stations, and propelled me toward creating my next work with humour. It was the perfect stepping stone.
In an interview, you mentioned your attraction to speed and physical intensity, which seem to allow you to “disappear.” What attracts you about that state?
Speed is not a trick or an extra. It’s not even a choice: it’s a beat, a breath, my rhythm. It’s like music jostling and rushing inside me. By heightening each second, I feel that I’m stretching out time. Speed perhaps saves me from boredom; it distances me from comfort, nonchalance, and posturing.
I like getting to what’s real. I like seeing a body possessed or transcended by dance and by the considerations and questions found in it. I spend my life reflecting, feeling, and having impressions; my mind moves fast, and so does my dancing. The wholeness that fills me and grows over the years is what resonates on stage. I also believe that speed transforms our view of the body by blurring the outlines. It short circuits our judgement and foils our preconceived notions. In speed, the ego disappears and gives way to crude gestures that communicate. Is that a disappearance? Or is it simply about being present?
In this new work, it’s not just about speed. I break away from it, just like Butoh dancers embrace slowness, to arrive somewhere else. Speed and slowness are both ways of creating another time within time.
What does the figure of the vagabond mean to you?
He resembles the artists I like, the thinkers who impress me, and perhaps children to some extent. He’s outside of time, out of the “game.” He has another way of living. He’s full and he’s empty. Contrary to his appearance, he’s in touch with his body. He’s a mover and I like movement. What is static disturbs me; it’s not normal to be without motion.
I like different aspects of the vagabond. I can imagine that he chooses to live without wealth, possessions, or attachments—not unlike dancers. That he’s a glorious fool, that what makes him great is his requirement to be true to himself. I think of the Hermit, who pursues an inward-looking quest; I think of the Fool or the Hanged Man in the Tarot, who sees the world upside down, and of rhizomes.
How did this figure inform your approach to movement in the creative process?
You’re asking me about the vagabond, but the title I chose was danses vagabondes, which is not exactly the same thing. I wasn’t looking to appropriate the figure of the vagabond. I try to stay alert, to trust in the unexpected, to be flexible and intuitive. I let myself follow and listen wherever my body wants to go; I remain open to the paths and possibilities that make themselves available to me. Actually, this piece is one of those for which I spent the most time on improvisation in order to compose the choreographic score.
The title is based on Carlo Rovelli’s book Écrits vagabonds, which collects some of his scientific and personal essays over a five-year period. He talks about Nabokov’s butterflies, Einstein, Hawking, a journey through the desert, LSD, and much more. It inspired me and triggered an immediate reaction.
