Lena Megyeri, born and brought up in Budapest recounts the story of how, aged 4, she’d wept incessantly because she couldn’t pirouette like the ballerinas she’d just seen on TV. Touched by her determination, her mother enrolled her in baby gym lessons. Later she was allowed to learn ballet and then, having seen her first performance of contemporary dance as a teen, she became fascinated with the more cerebral aspects of the art form.

Concluding that she’d always need dancing to be part of her life but that she craved exercising her mental muscles too, after leaving school she began South Asian studies at the University of Vienna. Although passionate about her subject, it didn’t take her long to realise that a life in academia was not for her. It was around that time that her interest in theatre deepened, not least because her father, working as the general manager of Budapest’s Thalia Theatre at the time, encouraged her to see and write about shows. With a second degree in cultural management under her belt, as well as a handful of admin jobs including a four-month stint in London working for English Touring Opera, she and her father teamed up to open an independent theatre, the Mozsár Műhely in Budapest. Lena ran the theatre together with her father until 2022 when, under Viktor Orbán’s regime, it lost its subsidy and Lena her full-time job. 

‘When the theatre had to close, I considered relocating to Vienna, a city I love and where I have a lot of connections,’ she recalls. ‘The political situation in Hungary and especially in the cultural sector was, and still is, appalling. But I decided to stay, to remain close to family and supposedly have a calmer life without so much travel. Which totally didn’t happen!‘ she laughs. ‘I’ve since been busier than ever.’

Indeed, almost without talking a breath and with yet one more self-styled pirouette, Lena turned to another of her passions, literature, and remodelled herself as a translator of fiction. Her first work is already in print, the Hungarian translation of bestselling author Lisa See’s novel Lady Tan’s Circle of Women. Parallel to this, Lena is also becoming a successful critic-cum-standup performer: together with music historian Ádám Bősze, she is touring an animated lecture-performance called On Tiptoe, that aims to shake the dust off preconceptions about the relationship between dance and music.

‘I have so many different interests,’ continues Lena. ‘I’m enjoying exploring all my varied identities. As a freelancer now, I’m working constantly and yet still have to stay flexible. Like most young people in Hungary, I’ve totally abandoned the idea of having a career plan and simply grasp opportunities when they arise.’

Despite only just having turned 37, Lena is clearly viewed as an authority in the dance world. Does she not miss working more directly in the performing arts? ‘Organising the Assembly was great because it reminded me how much I enjoy curating and the production that goes with it,’ she says. ‘But in truth, no one who’s interested in contemporary dance and performance can hope for stability. It’s a very fragile, fragmented scene. We don’t have many international festivals or events, so hosting the Assembly here in Budapest, together with the stimulating nature of the discussions, was energising for local artists, and helped nurture a sense of cohesion and community. In Hungary, artists often feel they are working unsupported and, despite the smallness of the scene, that they are isolated.’

How was it having us on your home territory? ‘There are no young dance critics in Hungary, and the older ones are more into theatre, so it’s been exciting for both artists and venues to welcome a group of twenty critics from all over Europe! That said, some of the questions the Springback writers pose come from an entirely Western European perspective. During the after-talk following Beatrix Simkó and Zoltán Grecsó’s #Orfeus#Eurydice for example, the question was asked if trigger warnings about sensitive content in relation to the male female power dynamic shouldn’t have been issued. [The piece simulated what could be construed as a choreographed rape.] With all due respect, there are other concerns at stake in Hungary. Independent artists try to produce and performer work against a totally different cultural, financial and political backdrop that is perhaps difficult for some Springbackers to really imagine.’

So, if she was cultural minister or still running a subsidised theatre? ‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t like a job like that now,’ she replies. ‘Apart from the inevitable politics involved, the decisions one would have to take would be excruciating. Everyone needs support here and everyone needs to perform. Peter Ertl for example, the director of the National Dance Theatre, is doing a great job navigating through difficult times, yet is occasionally criticised by the independent field for not programming more radical artists. It’s a very delicate balancing act in a hostile climate, when you’re obliged to fill a large auditorium to keep the theatre running.‘ 

Lena now quickly checks her watch and nimbly waltzes away to prepare the next instalment of our Assembly: a musical mystery tour around the historical parts of the city. 

Writing up this conversation back at home in Brussels, just after hearing the results of the US election, reinforces my conviction that privileged moments like the Assembly, when everyone feels a pronounced desire to strengthen bonds despite holding differing opinions, are not just precious but are also vital for bolstering our collective adaptability and resilience – skills that Lena resolutely personifies.