“Nor were they far from the edge of the top of the earth: Here, fearing that she was weakening, and greedy to see, Out of love he turned back his eyes; and immediately she slipped back.” (Ovid, Met. X, 55–7)

It was happenstance that on same day our group of writers at Springback Assembly in Budapest delved into the rightward-tilting political state of Europe during an open discussion, we also watched #Orpheus#Eurydice by Beatrix Simkó and Zoltán Grecsó. 

This athletic duet placed the mythic couple in a modern setting, where they descended into a hell of a relationship and tried to claw their way back again to their more filmic, romantic era. Orpheus loses faith in their ability to return to a more idealised time, causing their next separation, stranding himself in the land of the living, with Eurydice flung back into the Underworld.

It was the fiftieth performance of the choreography, which was created 8 years ago, before the arrival of Simkó’s child, and a global pandemic. The post-show Q&A, facilitated by Beatrix Joyce, revealed that returning to this piece was something of a Herculean labour for the performers, given its physical and emotional demands, but one they were delighted to undertake. 

It is a feat that the dance can still be danced, given the impact of the pandemic, the erosion of state support for independent dance and the increasingly emboldened political right across Europe. During our earlier discussion, Hungarian guest artist and speaker Gergő D. Farkas pointed out that the right will often use experimental performances (and artists) as objects of ridicule and fear, taking work out of context and using it as a means to justify funding cuts and creative censorship.

While this myth has a romantic couple at the centre, I kept returning to the themes of the work, the experiences of the artists and creatives we had the pleasure of meeting through Springback and spiralling thoughts prompted by an earlier political discussion. How do we fight for what we love, which in this context means a healthy dance industry? How do we return from hellish political times, or navigate the darker times we find ourselves in, as Orpheus did in search of Eurydice? How do we keep faith in the importance of our corner of the arts and not look back, give into doubt and nostalgia for easier times that exist more in our memories than they did in reality? I don’t have clear answers to these questions, but please indulge me as I use a mythic lens to consider them in another, more epic light.

Talent alone is not enough to save us

Orpheus’s talents in poetry and music got him much favour with mortals and gods alike, and even through the treacherous trials of the Underworld (charming a Cerberus for one), but they were not enough to restore Eurydice. 

Dance is a field brimming with artistic and academic talents that can win dedicated supporters and patrons, but we should not assume that the value of this work is evident to those outside dance, or outside the arts. Artists and arts workers are already doing great work, but they need more support to navigate the industry long term, otherwise we risk losing more talent from the field through financial insecurity and burnout. This support could and should look like different things: funding, educational opportunities, networking, partnerships, critical and academic writing, creative responses, advising, protesting and of course unionising.

Looking back can be a trap

There is a lot we can (and should) learn from history, but the resurgence of nostalgia in popular culture (in film and television in particular) sometimes feels like an unwillingness to confront reality. A cultural need to return to a glorious and rose-tinted past blinds us to our ability to effect change in the moment and reimagine a possible, better future. This is not a call to reject traditional dance forms and only explore the new, but to examine what we create, programme and highlight in terms of what ideas they reinforce about ourselves and the world around us, and ensure that we aren’t just allowing for one perspective.

When Orpheus gets ‘greedy to see’ Eurydice in their final moments before freedom, he is acting out of love, yet his indulgence in, and impatience for their return to normality robs them both of a future together. Likewise, we should not let our nostalgia for perceived eras of greatness distract us from the present and future, artistically or politically.

Do not lose faith

Orpheus’s other great flaw is his loss of nerve: he begins to doubt that Eurydice is following him, and suspects (not unreasonably) that the gods are playing tricks on him. Our own times are undeniably difficult to exist in, but we too must resist the urge to lose hope and become apathetic. Live dance (whether through participation or witnessing) has the potential to ground us in the present and to engage our imaginations for the future through its use of the body. It can connect us with our humanness, our frailty and strength, and most importantly to other people. In dark times, it is these forged human connections, and our trust and faith in each other, that will enact life-saving change.

Orpheus forgot that; we must not.