Why do you think that contemporary dance resonates with such a wide-ranging group of people?

Contemporary dance resonates so widely because it speaks directly to our most fundamental human experience: the body. Our thoughts, emotions and sensations all live in the body, and movement offers a language that can express what words sometimes cannot. In an increasingly digital and often isolating world, dance creates a rare space for genuine, shared presence—a chance to witness and feel something together in real time. At its best, contemporary dance also reflects the moment we live in: it engages with the questions, tensions and possibilities of our time, inviting audiences to respond both intellectually and viscerally. For me, that combination of physical immediacy and cultural relevance gives it an incredibly powerful resonance.

Do you approach each piece of choreography the same way, or is it a different creative process every time?

In some ways it’s both the same and completely different every time. I don’t have a fixed methodology or formula, and at the start of each creation I still feel that familiar anxiety of impostor syndrome. My process is deeply collaborative and responsive to the people in the studio. I work in dialogue with the dancers, inviting their presence, skills and perspectives to shape the work as it develops. At the same time, there are threads that run consistently through my practice. My background in the humanities means I often begin with a period of research and reading—both fiction and non-fiction—and I tend to structure a piece by breaking its arc into progressively smaller components, bringing specific propositions or questions into the studio for each moment. Sometimes I arrive with a clear vision; at other times the process is more open, and I rely on the dancers’ generosity and intelligence to help uncover the way forward. Continually finding the balance between certainty and the unknown is what keeps the process alive for me.