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From the Belly to the Brain

French choreographer Lea Tirabasso makes dense, intricate work which explores existential concerns connected with science, nature and morality. Witty, vivid and visceral, her work pushes beyond simple genres or choreographic language, creating something far richer and more complex. Her most recent piece, “In the Bushes” is part of the Edinburgh Festival this year.

Fjord Review caught up with Léa Tirabasso ahead of the Summerhall run.

Léa Tirabasso's “In the Bushes.” Photograph by Bohumil Kostohryz

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Please tell me more about the core dynamics of “In the Bushes.”

With “In the Bushes,” I wanted to free myself from the works I had previously created, and I aimed to give myself the gift of creative freedom: to not make anything I thought might be expected of me. I wanted to play with the idea of a non-linear structure, I wanted to laugh, and to see a no-people’s land populated by strange creatures making sounds and gestures from another realm. The way the dancers move is very unique—sharp, tense—and our world stumbles. Sounds come out of bodies, dancers lose each other, look for one another.

The initial question was about what we do when we hide—or perhaps, whether we are truly ourselves, the raw, authentic self, when no one is watching. And how are we then? What happens behind the bushes? We make love, get naked, get high, forget about the outside world. Behind the bushes, anything seems strangely possible.

I wanted to embrace the incoherence of our human condition, our constant need to make sense of things.

Then came the question of how humans define what it means to be human. I came across an incredible book by Henry Gee, The Misunderstanding of Human Evolution, which examines evolution theory and the distinction between humans and animals. There’s no need to elaborate on the fact that there are no clear differences—yet the belief that we are the pinnacle of evolution was the perfect starting point for laughing at ourselves. 

Laughing seems to become an act of resistance now that I realise that the fundamental question of the piece is: what remains of humanity when nothing makes sense anymore?


I see a lot of Jung's “shadow self” in your work. I wondered if he was an influence for you?


I have never read Jung. Doing so has been on my list for years, and hearing this now reinforces the fact that I really should get to it! So, the short answer is—not directly. But it’s true that I am extremely interested in (and somewhat amused by) repressed feelings, desires, and impulses. I am fascinated by our ability as humans to condition and mould ourselves to be socially acceptable, by the rawness of our true selves; by what or how we are when we are not pretending. I see us, human beings, as bizarre, scary, moving, detestable, and lovable creatures, crawling on this earth and trying to make sense of things. It is this ‘creatureness’ I am interested in. 

Getting rid of layers of being—what we show to the world and to each other—is what drives my work in the studio. It’s my main creative tool: attempting to switch off the thinking brain as much as possible and embracing the primal, unfiltered part of ourselves.

It’s like tapping into authenticity, instinct, and sometimes, even a trance.  It can be scary, cathartic and pleasurable. 

Léa Tirabasso. Photograph by Léa Junet

Do you think it's important to deal with large thematic concerns in an idiosyncratic, often playful, way?


Yes. Exploring large thematic concerns has always been a way to continue reflecting and contemplating the big philosophical questions that shape our humanity—life, death, divinity, and so on. These questions obsess me. Art enables us to embody these questions and ask more. I believe it’s not about finding answers.

Regarding how we embody these concerns: the precision of a choreographic language has always been fundamental to me. This doesn’t mean that each movement has a specific meaning—I actually don’t believe that art necessarily has to have a meaning. In the way I make, instinct and intuition come first, then a meaning or an explanation might emerge and support what we made. 

It is like going from the belly, to the brain. 

What is fascinating is that we are wired to create stories—things will make sense in one way or another. This is what I played with for “In the Bushes.” 

When I speak about shedding layers of being and presenting oneself in our creative process, I strongly believe this cannot be achieved without three major elements: trust, care, and playfulness. We need to be able, as a group of collaborators, to laugh at ourselves, to move away from aesthetic concerns—will it look good? Will I look good?—and to explore different emotional states with lightness and playfulness. 

Another element we have been playing with throughout the piece is the gaze—the gaze from the dancers to the audience, and the gaze of the audience across the stage. Scenes contain multiple layers and actions, allowing the audience to look away, look deeper, or pretend they are not seeing.

The dancers perform the piece with their whole bodies and energy. It is, if I may say so, a performance of the extreme: it’s over the top, fully embodied, sometimes pretended. 

All of these elements combined may suggest that, as a society, we are mastering the art of looking away and pretending. 

Guy Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle was never far from my thoughts during the creative process.


What do you hope that the Edinburgh Festival audiences will take away from your work?


I hope that they will be catapulted into a quirky world, that they will allow themselves to embark on this journey with us. I hope that they will observe themselves and the world around them differently after the piece. I hope they will take themselves a little less seriously and each other a little more seriously. 

Léa Tirabasso’s “In the Bushes” opens at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, August 19-25, 2025. For festival details and tickets head to edfringe.com

Lorna Irvine


Based in Glasgow, Lorna was delightfully corrupted by the work of Michael Clark in her early teens, and has never looked back. Passionate about dance, music, and theatre she writes regularly for the List, Across the Arts and Exeunt. She also wrote on dance, drama and whatever particular obsession she had that week for the Shimmy, the Skinny and TLG and has contributed to Mslexia, TYCI and the Vile Blog.

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