Over the past ten years, my performance work has centred on collaborations with groups of people interested in performing in public. I have worked with groups of trained and untrained performers to develop performances that incorporate song, dance, and spoken word to explore the complexities of social interaction.
In London, where I am based, I have developed an ensemble of performers who I work with regularly and so our creative relationship has deepened over time. This ongoing collaboration allows us to build work rooted in trust—creating environments where we can explore the complicated emotions that arise when performing in public, including vulnerability, shame, delight, and reciprocity.
For this research project I wanted to ask how to develop performances in new contexts with new people? Much of what I create is made possible by the shared history of my London ensemble. Trust develops over time, and there is a collective understanding of what our performative experiments are attempting to achieve.
However, when presenting work internationally, budget constraints often make it impossible to travel with my ensemble. Instead, it is frequently suggested that I collaborate with local performers. In the past, I have found this process not fully success. This research sought new strategies for working with strangers—approaches that feel mutually beneficial for everyone involved. Participatory performance raises complex ethical questions, and I wanted to explore these ethics, developing structures that might enrich and deepen these temporary working relationships.
At the heart of this inquiry are questions about how to gather a group and, once gathered, how to ensure the process is meaningful and valuable for all participants. How does the temporary nature of the project shape the experience? How does it feel to be part of something that everyone knows has no extended future? And what unique possibilities emerge from brief but intense intimacies with strangers?
Recruitment: We decided to focus on the recruitment process carefully. To find participants, we created posters and digital flyers, asking a simple question: "Do you have a burning desire to sing and dance?" The print posters were placed across the city in cafés, community spaces, health centres, and educational institutions. Digital flyers were shared through personal networks but not on social media. The intention was to reach a diverse range of participants from different parts of the city, and from different walks of life.
We received 24 responses. I met with each person individually to discuss the process, ultimately selecting six participants. While I could have worked with everyone, the budget didn’t stench to this. The decision-making process was guided by the desire to ensure diversity across race, gender identity, disability, age, and class.
The Workshops: A small studio was rented in the city centre—a space used for various community projects, located within a social housing complex. We met over two consecutive weekends. The first weekend was about getting to know each other and beginning to perform together. Participants had varied experiences: some had never performed in public, some had significant experience, and others were re-engaging with a creative practice. None of the participants knew each other, except for two who were surprised to find each other there. The group was united by their shared curiosity, a longing had lead them there.
On the first day, we explored movement and singing through improvisation and slow vocalising exercises. Towards the end of the day, we began performing for one another, shifting between performer and audience. I introduced a new song developed with composer and songwriter Robbie Allen, which explored desire as a forward motion—the complexities and contradictions of longing. This song became the foundation for our work together. The group discussed the song, sharing personal reflections on desire and longing.
Each session began with a check-in and ended with a check-out, creating space for participants to share how they were feeling. No formal group agreement was made, but it was understood that anyone could step in or out at any time. The aim was to cultivate an open and responsive environment.
On the second day, we started working with the song. I had suggested we rewrite it but we decided to use it as it was, as a container—a pre-existing structure within which we could develop our own interpretation, much like a cover version. Each participant chose a verse that resonated with them to perform as a solo. We then began to choreograph the piece.
The second weekend focused on preparing for the final performance. On Saturday, we refined the choreography and worked on bringing the piece into our bodies. We also discussed release forms, how to write them in a way that felt shared and understood. We co write a form that included a clause allowing them to review the final e and request changes based on how they felt about their portrayal. On the last day, each participant invited a friend to record them. This footage would later be developed into a video work. That evening, we performed for an invited audience of around 30 people—friends of mine and the performers.
Recruitment Process: The decision to resist sharing the posters on social media was difficult. I was concerned they wouldn’t reach enough people, but for the sake of the research, I held back—and it paid off. It was exciting to gather a group that, as some noted, might never have been in the same room otherwise. Social media often creates insular networks, bringing together people from similar backgrounds. In contrast, our group was formed purely through a shared desire to perform.
The Workshop: Throughout the process, we paused to reflect on what was emerging. Some key questions from the first weekend included: What do we need to feel okay performing in public? What sort of environment makes that possible? The community studio space shaped the experience in unexpected ways. Some participants were
reminded of childhood performance classes. Others noted that the absence of mirrors removed the pressure of self-judgment, allowing them to fully immerse themselves in the work. One shared reflection from the first day was that the experience felt intense, but they commented: "The intensity is between me and me, not me and you." The process was confronting, but the environment we created made it feel possible.
The second weekend focused on preparing for the final performance. On Saturday, we refined the choreography and worked on moving our performance of the piece from our heads to our bodies. A choreographic question emerged: What is the easiest way to perform this? We decided that ease would create the most beautiful performance and shaped the performance accordingly. One participant observed that tending to the details of the choreography was an act of care, rather than something to be perfected or controlled. Another reflected that for something to be both graceful and courageous, it must be left open, imperfect.
These reflections led me to examine my own relationship to the process and my practice in general. Through this process, I realised I hadn’t been treating myself with the same care and consideration that I gave to my collaborators. This feels like the kind of realisation that can only happen when stepping outside the comfort of one’s usual environment.
A recurring theme in our discussions was the tension between freedom and structure—how much structure is necessary to build something, and how much freedom is needed to allow for experimentation? One participant noted that structures—such as working with the song as it was—provided a foundation for creation. Similarly, musical structures like harmonies required technical practice, and one participant with choir experience helped guide this part of the process.
We understood from the start that this collaboration would last only four days. Yet, the intimacy that developed in the room made the group feel deeply connected, leaving us with a shared sense that there was more to explore together. Perhaps we might. The intention of this project was to explore the forward motion of desire. It seems fitting, then, that we should be left wanting more.
Performers: Jerlyn Heinzen, Liz Pachacama, Manuela Zaugg, Michele Porcelluzzi, NUVOL3NUVOL3, Tal Amitai
Composer: Robbie Allen
Research Assistants: Carolina Ongaro and Price