Born in 1986, Marco da Silva Ferreira is a rising Portuguese choreographer on European stages. Prior to discovering street dance in his hometown Santa Maria da Feira at the age of 16, his main body practice came from professional swimming. He received a degree in physiotherapy before fully dedicating himself to dance, first as a dancer and since 2015 also as a choreographer. 2022 was a remarkable year for him, with three creations: førma Inførms (for South African dance company Via Katlehong), Fantasie Minor (duo inspired by Schubert’s Fantasia in F minor) and Carcaça. After seeing Carcaça – touring widely, and co-produced by Big Pulse Dance Alliance, where Ferreira is one of six ‘scaling up artists’ – I interviewed him online to find out about its background.
article
Marco da Silva Ferreira on Carcaça
Read
6 min
How did you start contemporary dance professionally?
My first job as professional contemporary dancer was in 2011. After winning season 1 of the Portuguese version So You Think You Can Dance, I decided to shift away from commercial dance to contemporary creations. I contacted André Mesquita, Portuguese choreographer, who invited me for a replacement role. In the same year, I started working with Victor Hugo Pontes and became his assistant. I also danced for other choreographers, Hofesh Shechter for example. During these years, I started appreciating how to create a piece.
So you naturally wanted to create?
Yes and in 2013 Tiago Guedes [then at Teatro Virgínia, now director of Maison de la Danse, Lyon] invited me for a two-week residency without obligation of demonstration. But I wanted to present my work and applied for a funding from France. That was Hu(r)mano, premiered in 2014. During 2014 and 2016, I toured my work and continued to dance for other choreographers.
What is your process of creation, starting from Hu(r)mano?
For Hu(r)mano, I invited three dancers with similar backgrounds – that is, street dancers curious about a contemporary approach. I already had some scenes in mind and mostly gave materials to them. It is very choreographed, cold but groovy. In Brother (2017), I looked for the opposite side of Hu(r)mano, with more emotions, humour and impulsiveness.
How about Carcaça?
It’s a bigger work in terms of length, stage design and number of performers; it probably reaches a level of maturity compared to my previous works. The idea starts with cultural crystallisation, turning living culture into fixed forms. We attempt to revive the traces of collective identity which new generations start losing, such as food, clothes, music and dance. What do we do when fixed heritages become ethnically questionable? What about new communities? What about new cultural movements? Meanwhile, I question the danger of crystallising contemporary culture.
So you feel that each culture will eventually be crystallised?
It tends to. Collective identities are sources of belonging and inclusion but when they become mainstream, they can turn the other way around. I can recognise this issue in dance. For example, Portuguese folk dance used to be close to the lives of rural people. During our 50-year dictatorship this dance was instrumentalised: one type of dance and costume per region. A total caricature. After the democratic revolution, people emerged traumatised, turning their backs on folk dance for two decades.
Is there any folk dance you connect with Carcaça?
Yes, there are four of them: vira geral, vira de quatro, gota de Dem, fandango Scarlatti. The first three are in the same section, where we do a circle dance. It’s like a utopian place where dances of different times meet. Fandango Scarlatti appears in the last scene. I try to stimulate a flow between past and future which can also be found in the costumes and music. Instead of providing facts about these dances, I am more interested in their body movement and flow.
What does this choreography bring to you?
It mirrored myself, belonging to no specific community. This lack of community makes me observe communities, collective identities, peoples. That was the case for Hu(r)mano, Brother and now Carcaça. Overall, my choreographies explore death and love. They talk about death – things from the past that influence the future – and about love between bodies on stage.
When you say you don’t belong to any community, do you mean in your everyday life?
Especially in my life. My family is not very traditional as in my childhood, both my parents worked a lot while I commuted alone between school and swimming pool (for training). There was no stereotyped image of staying with my grandmother or surrounded and cared for by many family members.
Do you feel adrift?
No. Elements such as culture, street dance and clubbing were there at the beginning of my dance and are still here today. I am not fulfilled by one community, but by many.
And you continue to dance for other choreographers?
Yes. The last project was with Jefta van Dinther. It is a solo with a choreographer I like, and working with Cullberg Ballet was an incredible experience. I couldn’t say no. I also wanted to challenge myself.
You also continue to dance in your own works.
I feel like I need to dance. When I stop dancing, I will stop being choreographer because a huge part of the process is to recognise the experience in my own body before making decisions.
You said your works questioned death and love. How about aging? In 20 years’ time you might still dance but probably not as much as in Carcaça.
I will not get old. That’s me in denial! I will have to deal with it: every five years I feel the change in my body. I don’t have a plan for aging. In my works, I always have dancers over 40. For example in Carcaça, the dancers range from 22 to 42. Aging is beautiful but frightening; maybe my works will end up talking about it. ●
Tour dates: www.p-ulso.pt/en/agenda
