
Dance jam with Gyula Cserepes at Trafó House. © Lena Megyeri
Forms of freedom
Can structure liberate rather than constrain?
In dance and the arts, structure can often be seen as something negative – it’s associated with being restrictive and placing boundaries on creativity. As a result, throughout dance history, pioneering choreographers have sought to explode traditional structures and forms. Early modern dance pioneers such as Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham, for example, broke free from the strictures of ballet in order to create more expressive, natural, and liberated forms of movement. In turn, the postmodernists of the 60s and 70s felt the need to depart from the once innovative structures introduced by the modernists, with Yvonne Rainer famously writing her ‘No Manifesto’, a rejection of her predecessors penchant for ‘magic and make believe,’ ‘eccentricity,’ and ‘moving and being moved’.
A similarly questioning attitude towards established structures arose at Springback Academy 2024 in Budapest. During one of our introductory conversations at Workshop Foundation – our home for the weekend – it was suggested that traditional ‘bland journalistic’ formats limited the creativity of dance writers. Some writers thought more free-form, poetry-like ‘responses’ to dance might be a way of enabling more imaginative expression, and engaging with the dance artists on a more meaningful, less hierarchical level.
Throughout this discussion, I couldn’t help but think of how blocked and uncomfortable I would feel to be given total freedom to respond to a contemporary dance piece in any way I chose. I thought also of my dad. While not a natural dance fan, he enjoys engaging with the art form for my sake, combing the arts section of his Times for relevant reviews and interviews to share with me via text. Would it be so easy for him to find a way into my niche interest if instead of classic review formats, he was confronted with an abstract poem based on an already abstract dance piece? ‘No,’ he replies bluntly.
Off the back of these thoughts, I started to entertain the somewhat oxymoronic idea that, in some cases, structure is not the enemy of freedom, but actually creates it. In the case of dance criticism, word counts, in-house style guides, and formats help writers like me find a way to express our ideas about complex, hard to decipher performances. As a result, the writing we produce is (hopefully) accessible to a wider readership, providing clarity and insight through straightforward language. Ideally, this empowers readers to form their own opinions too, rather than feeling that dance is a highbrow, exclusive art form.
The idea of structure creating freedom became the lens through which I interpreted all of the activities at Springback Assembly. In a work-in-progress sharing of Hungarian choreographer Réka Szabó’s latest work with a mixed-ability group, for example, my main takeaway was that by working with a well-rehearsed, improvisational structure, her performers were able to explore their artistry and interact with each other in a safe, controlled environment. Similarly, when all of us Springback writers took part in a dance jam led by local dance artist Gyula Cserepes at Trafó House, dancers and non-dancers alike felt safe to let loose, fling our limbs in all directions, make noise and funny facial expressions due to the clear, simple movement instructions – ‘send your energy down,’ ‘step forwards, sideways, backwards’ – we were given. The experience was the complete opposite of standing awkwardly on a club dance floor, paralysed by having free rein to move in any way you choose for fear of doing something outside the unwritten parameters of nightlife movement culture.

Perhaps structure can promote creative freedom, but it very much depends on the kinds of structures that are in place
By the time I came to writing this text, I was convinced that structure-induced freedom should be my topic. However, I couldn’t shake the concern that this idea closely resembled the old adage that restrictions and necessity are ‘the mother of invention’. In the challenging times we live in, marked by funding cuts, artistic censorship, and increasingly precarious working conditions, this concept can feel like a burden on artists that pressures them to ‘make do’ with less. Rather than fostering engagement, it often serves to silence them, stifling essential conversations about the future of our sector.
These concerns were particularly prevalent in Springback Assembly’s host country of Hungary, which has experienced significant cultural funding cuts under its right-wing government. For Szabó, this resulted in her taking a break from running her dance company, The Symptoms, due to burnout and uncertainty about how to move forward. Noémi Herczog, an editor at the theatre and dance magazine Színház, also shared a shocking graphic illustrating the drastic funding cuts the publication has faced over the past decade.

Perhaps structure can promote creative freedom, but it very much depends on the kinds of structures that are in place. While some seem to stifle creative production, initiatives such as Springback offer vital spaces for reflection, exchange and collaboration. My own participation in this organised programme gave me renewed determination to navigate my precarious path as a dance writer and critic. Hopefully, organisations such as Springback will empower individuals like me to sustain our efforts and foster meaningful change in the arts, and to establish new structures to enable creative freedoms for generations to come.