Remixing Criticism - Hip Hop dance under the microscope

Welcome Welcome to all those Hip Hop heads who are new to Twine. Welcome to all the Twine heads who are new to Hip Hop dance theatre. Welcome to the the heads interested in institutional power. Let's [[start->Intro 2]] at the very beginning. Or You could skip the [[juice->Thought 66]] and head straight to the work, but I wouldn't recommend it.

The Head Wrap Diaries by Uchenna Dance was recently (June 4th-8th) streamed as part of The Place Online season, so it feels a good time to revisit my writing which was originally published in September 2016. At the time - and something I occasionally still do - I offer additional quotes to help frame some of the thinking and themes around the works. So that's where we'll start. “_I want to talk about natural black hair, and how it’s not just hair. I mean, I’m interested in hair in sort of a very aesthetic way, just the beauty of hair, but also in a political way: what it says, what it means_.” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie In a lingering opening the three performers - Shanelle Clemenson, Sheila Attah and Habibat Ajayi - emerge slowly on their knees into a silvery light with foreheads kissing the floor. They each tie around their heads part of a 10m x 3m patchwork of patterned and printed material and as their undulating backs glacially retreat stage left they use their heads to reveal a giant piece of material. The relative stillness of the image draws us towards their bodies and the material as the sombre echoes of history, women and colour are united by hair. With over a dozen self-contained chapters exploring female beauty, empowerment and relationships across generations, The Head Wrap Diaries is sprinkled with humour, lightness and empathy. Clemenson, Attah and Ajayi adopt multiple personalities and melt choreographically between the vocabularies of waacking, house, contemporary and African people’s dance in the wider world set by Director/Choreographer Vicki [[Igbokwe->Uchenna 2]].

One of the reasons why we're here is because the world is intersectional and nothing exists in isolation. Hip Hop is created in multiple contexts. Hip Hop is created in multiple communities. As a platform, Twine has the ability to link and create connections between different passages generating new knowledge and [[perspectives->Intro 3]].

So that is what we're going to do. We'll use 14 existing pieces of writing on Hip Hop dance theatre and see if by connecting themes, geography or artists any new insights can be generated. You could think of this entire document as a Collected Writings on Hip Hop Volume 1: 2016-[[2020->Intro 4]].

Institutional power shape shifts and takes many forms including media platforms; it also includes artistic directors, venues, commissioners, festivals and funders. In 2015 Daniel Wirls published his book _The Federalist Papers and Institutional Power In American Political Development_ and it had a theory of institutional power which is characterised by: a) powers, as in constitutional authority and duties b) organisation, as in structure, size, procedures, and other internal resources c) constituency - i.e. external social support d) relationship among the aforementioned elements or [[variables->Thought 5]].

There'll be some new, additional and previously unpublished commentary alongside an editing of the original texts. There'll always be a route to follow - that could be: <div style="text-indent: 2em;">works made by women/men</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">works exploring masculinity/feminity</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">works made by people who live inside/outside London</div> You might come across works via multiple paths. If you encounter repetition embrace this; a single frame and reading is less useful and is not intersectional. But first I want to say some [[things->Thought 1]].

I've created this because of the vacuum of knowledge in the UK mainstream media about Hip Hop. And There is a lack of a critical and public dialogue from and about the Hip Hop community. When Luke Jennings in The Observer gives Boy Blue’s Blak Whyte Gray (2017) a 5* review and says: _In Gray, African chants and crowd recordings reference Asante’s Ghanaian descent, and the stage fills with a high-velocity whirl of popping, breaking and krump_. Saying the stage is filled with popping, breaking and krump is akin to saying the stage is filled with ballet, acting and jazz. It reveals a lack of knowledge of the forms, their relation to each other and the integrity of their [[history->Thought 2]].

When Zoë Anderson in The Independent gives 4* to Breakin’ Convention (2019), describing Jinjo Crew’s Rhythm of Korea she says: _Then they erupt into dazzling, acrobatic dancing... in my favourite move, one dancer holds his body in a horizontal handstand, then sprints forward in a waggling, wriggling run on his hands, like a very cool crocodile in a hurry_. I recognise that there is some value in the MSM platforming Hip Hop work but when they talk about it in a reductive and anatomically descriptive way using generalisations and empty phraseology, they paint a picture using their White (because the high proportion of MSM dance reviewers are White), London, affluent, contemporary dance and ballet palette and it serves people who only look like [[themselves->Thought 3]].

Their inability to engage with the work, the community, the vocabulary and history means that works often get a critical pass; Hip Hop artists are then absolved from scrutiny, attention, feedback and reflection which is present in other parts of society. There are places which are cultivating a new community and offering perspectives like: _gal-dem_ (with features on Poetic Pilgrimage - aka Muneera and Sukina - Britain’s first female Muslim Hip-Hop duo) and _Black Ballad_ (with features by Tomiwa Folorunso on The Black Women Shaking Up The Scottish Arts Scene). Darren Chetty’s #HipHopEd newsletter highlights work being done within the world of education and Hip Hop whilst Hannah Hutchings-Georgiou (founding editor-in-chief of _Lucy Writers_) publishes multiple long form features, interviews and reviews on the Hip Hop theatre [[community->Thought 4]].

It’s at this point I’d like to bring Sadler’s Wells and their project Breakin’ Convention into the [[discussion->Thought 6]].

Breakin' Convention? Is this going to get [[spicy->Thought 7]]?

Or to give them their full name: Breakin' Convention - A Sadler's Wells [[project->Thought 8]].

In June 2019 Sadler’s Wells were awarded £630,660. “..._for an ambitious three-year hip-hop project, Breakin’ Out, which builds on the legacy and 15 years of experience of Breakin’ Convention. Through this Arts Council England National Lottery Project Grant, Breakin’ Out will continue this work through grass roots partnerships, 34 performances on two national tours (in 2020 and 2022) and artist development opportunities_.” That means Sadler's Wells gets an extra £630,000 on top of their regular funding from Arts Council England to get Breakin' Convention performing outside of London 34 times across 2020 and [[2022->Thought 9]].

£630,000 is not a small amount of money. I think we should take a closer look at who Breakin' Convention have platformed in their previous tours; previous behaviour is usually a good indicator of future intentions and how they might spend that [[money->Thought 10]].

Do we need to talk about...bias towards male artists in the work that Breakin’ Convention has toured England with in the last six years? Yes. _Yes we do_. But first a little more context. Let's not forget that £630,000. It always pays to follow the money. Alistair Spalding CBE has been Artistic Director and Chief Executive of Sadler’s Wells since 2004 and Jonzi D is the founder and Artistic Director of Breakin’ Convention and an Associate Artist at Sadler’s Wells since [[2004->Thought 11]].

From 2014 - 2020, Breakin’ Convention have embarked on four tours of England; they've taken 11 UK & international artists/companies on tour. Alongside the toured work they also invite three or four groups from each host town/city to appear on the bill. Out of those 11 selected artists, how many female led companies/artists do you think were [[chosen->Thought 12]]?

Hang on a minute. Here's a little more context about Sadler's Wells first. They currently (as of June 2020) support 16 Associate Artists who "_represent the most exciting talent working in dance today and are at the heart of our artistic vision._" Those 16 artists [[are:->Thought 12.5]]

So we're already playing with a deficit of expectation and demonstrated male bias within the wider Sadler's Wells artistic choices. So is Breakin' Convention going to be better, similar or worse? Out of those 11 [[artists->Thought 13.5]]...

Only one out of 11 is female led, is that really right? Yes. This is a list of the others... 2020: Jinjo Crew (Korea), Géométrie Variable (France), Spoken Movement (UK) 2017: Soweto Skeleton Movers (South Africa), Just Dance (South Korea), Tentacle Tribe (Canada) 2016: Antoinette Gomis (France), Iron Skulls (Spain), The Ruggeds (Netherlands) 2014: Ukweli Roach (UK), Ill Abilities (USA) So they made an active decision for their 2020 tour - which they received £630,000 from Arts Council England - to not choose any female led [[work->Thought 15]]?

Yes. They made a choice - in the shadow of the #MeToo movement which gained global attention in October 2017 - to not give one, two or all three of their slots in their 2020 tour to a female artist/company. That's considerably worse. __That's active erasure__. This isn't good and the % of female representation is lower than that of Sadler's Wells Associate Artists. Audiences are not getting to see Hip Hop work authored by women because of the choices of Sadler's Wells. Breakin’ Convention has toured England four times since 2014 (the 2020 tour was cancelled due to coronavirus). The non-London places that they tour is where the majority of their live audiences see Hip Hop work. In the age of representation - and thinking again about Wirls’ institutional power - if audiences get to see only one work by a woman in six years, when Sadler’s Wells have received multiple six figure grants to enable previous tours on top of the current £630,000, is this something we need to talk [[about->Thought 16]]?

Yes. It is. But I thought we were here to talk about and see if there are any connections between 14 different pieces of writing on Hip Hop dance theatre? This feels more like a form of light institutional scrunity. Remember what I said earlier: "_the world is intersectional and nothing exists in isolation. Hip Hop is created in multiple contexts. Hip Hop is created in multiple communities._" Everything is connected. We're talking about public money and choices that are made by men. If schools (which are also publicly funded) had 11 places per class and only two of those places were for girls, would you find that acceptable? If there were 11 seats on a bus and only two of those places were for women, would you find that [[acceptable->Thought 17]]?

Well...[[no->Thought 18]].

One has been female led. One. Antoinette Gomis from France in 2016. Let me make the number really clear. __One__. Out of those 11 artists one company is the jointly male/female led Tentacle Tribe (Emmanuelle Lê Phan and Elon Höglund from Canada) in 2017. The remaining nine out 11 (81.8%) are male [[led->Thought 14]].

Exactly. That's male bias. Why did they receive that £630,000 again? To not platform women? Was that it? Perhaps it's a one-off mistake...one that no-one paid attention to. People make mistakes [[right->Thought 18.5]]?

Do we need to talk about...the consistent creation and support of 100s of short works that are untourable and financially unsustainable via Back To The Lab and Open Art [[Surgery->Thought 20]]?

This is getting [[spicy->Thought 21]].

This is how Breakin’ Convention describes Open Art Surgery (OAS) and Back To The Lab (BTTL) on their website: ‘_OAS offers hip hop theatre companies and performers, from dancers and musicians to emcees and visual artists, the opportunity to develop and experiment with new ideas, share new work publicly and receive mentorship from experienced hip hop theatre creators like Jonzi D_.’ ‘_BTTL offers established hip hop choreographers the chance to learn and create under the mentorship of hip hop theatre heavyweights over two exciting weeks of workshops, experimentation and devising, culminating in a live performance and discussion_.’ Well, that's OK isn't [[it->Thought 22]]?

OK. How about we look at something else? Another slice of the £630,000 pie. How about those artist development [[opportunities ->Thought 19]]?

Let's expand the circle a little wider. On top of OAS and BTTL Breakin’ Convention also offer opportunity for artists to present work of 10-15 minutes in length at their annual London celebration or when they tour. These are the development and platforming opportunities that artists receive for engaging with Breakin’ [[Convention->Thought 23]].

Well, that sounds great. They're offering artists the chance to perform and develop. That's what artists need...right? Breakin’ Convention support artists to start a process, stimulate thinking and present their work in either their home town or London. Whilst there are the very occasional outliers who have taken something started at OAS or BTTL and made it into something larger, those that have succeeded have almost always been in receipt of additional financial or institutional support. What has happened to the 100s of works and 1000s of hours and free labour that Hip Hop artists have created and invested in OAS and BTTL in the last 15 years? Free [[labour->Thought 24]]?

You didn't think artists were paid to take part in Open Art Surgery did [[you->Thought 25]]?

[[Well...->Thought 26]]

Let's open the circle a little wider... If all that is made, supported and presented under the Breakin' Convention banner is 10-15 minutes of modular work then it doesn’t really allow artists to build the stamina needed to create longer works. You can't tour a 10-15 minute of work. Nobody will buy it, because a venue would need to buy 4-6 of them to make an evening at the theatre. Very few presenters/festivals would do that. It's financial suicide for the artist and the presenter. You could say that it stunts their development and craft by enforcing artificial time constraints, cramming content into multiple slots and allowing little time for reflection resulting in a consistently shallow [[engagement->Thought 27]].

So alongside the no-platforming of women on their tours... They are __NOT__ developing the craft, skills or expertise Hip Hop artists needs to refine, complete and finish a work. They are __NOT__ presenting or helping develop Hip Hop artists to think about or work outside of the small scale theatre touring scene - the most financially unsustainable scale to operate at. And they're getting £630,000 to do [[this->Thought 28]]?

Yes. Breakin' Convention - A Sadler's Wells project are in receipt of that money and have made those choices. Consistently. Anything [[else->Thought 29]]?

Well aside from they're __NOT__ sharing the means of production (finance, touring and bid writing) or enabling others to benefit from their distribution/venue networks in the UK and internationally. No. I think they're doing OK. Actually. Yes. There's one more thing (and then we'll get on to the [[writing->Thought 30]]).

Do we need to talk about...how Sadler’s Wells have created a monopoly of (perceived) knowledge and support from the community whilst perpetuating a closed system which only they benefit [[from->Thought 31]]?

[[Well...->Thought 32]]

Breakin’ Convention has been in existence for over 15 years and this is what they have chosen and choose to do. The community understands that it is one of Sadler’s Wells projects which ‘loses’ money, but what it offers is soft power, a shell company, a touring vehicle (which brings in additional money and grants) and a fulfilment of the Creative Case for Diversity requirement. As an Arts Council England Band 3 funded National Portfolio Organisation Sadler's Wells need to fulfil their Creative Case for Diversity requirement to receive their £12.2 million grant across 2018-2023 from Arts Council England and Breakin’ Convention contributes to that [[requirement->Thought 33]].

How we can have a conversation and talk publicly about some of these things? People fear being blacklisted if they voice critical opinions towards those in and with ‘power.’ People fear opportunities will no longer be open to them and they will be no platformed. I'm of the opinion that those with the greatest resources should be held to the highest [[account->Thought 34]].

So. What should they [[do->Thought 35]]?

Excuse [[me->Thought 36]]?

What can they do better? How can they be a better ally to the Hip Hop dance theatre community? Where should they be investing their [[resources->Thought 37]]?

Have you read the [[room->Thought 38]]?

Are you seriously asking independent artists, writers and producers (__who are unsalaried__) to present solutions back to them? Are you seriously asking independent artists, writers and producers (__who are unsalaried__) to do the work for [[them->Thought 39]]?

Errrr...maybe [[not->Thought 40]].

Hang on. Haven't they received some [[money...->Thought 41]]

Go [[on...->Thought 42]]

and they've actively excluded [[women...->Thought 43]]

and they don't pay artists on their development [[programmes...->Thought 44]]

Yes...[[and->Thought 44.5]]

You say they've been doing this for 15 years? They've been touring England since 2007, not paying artists on their development programmes, not sharing information with the community and they've received £630,000 to do that? How many artists could that [[employ->Thought 46]]?

Stop [[that->Thought 47]]!

£630,000 / £30,000 [[=->Thought 48]]

You think artists get paid £30,000 a [[year->Thought 49]]?

Did you see when Sadler's Wells advertised their Director of Programming role in January 2019? What do you think the salary [[was->Thought 50]]?

[[£38,000->Thought 51]]?

Guess [[again...->Thought 52]]

[[£58,000->Thought 53]]?

No. Guess [[£g£in->Thought 54]].

How does anyone in the arts get paid more than £58,000? I'm not in the mood anymore. Just tell [[me->Thought 55]].

"_Salary circa £80,000 per annum, dependent on experience, plus benefits_" That's not the salary of Artistic Director and Chief Executive Alisdair Spalding. That will be higher. Should we mention the Sadler's Wells Gender Pay Gap [[Report->Thought 56]]?

[[What->Thought 57]]?

Where women at Sadler's Wells earn 91p for every £1 that men earn when comparing median hourly wages. Or When comparing mean hourly wages, women’s mean hourly wage at Sadler's Wells is 10.8% lower than men’s. Or Women at Sadler's Wells earn 8p for every £1 that men earn when comparing median bonus pay. Their median __bonus pay is 92.2% lower__ than [[men's->Thought 58]].

I don't think we've got time to mention... SADLER'S WELLS DEVELOPMENT TRUST Matching previous names: SADLER'S WELLS THEATRE APPEAL FUND 01031348 - Incorporated on 16 November 1971 SADLER'S WELLS TRUST LIMITED 01488786 - Incorporated on 1 April 1980 SADLER'S WELLS LIMITED 02907116 - Incorporated on 10 March 1994 SADLER'S WELLS FOUNDATION LIMITED 08338605 - Incorporated on 20 December 2012 But if you wanted to check out Companies House and search the register...it's remarkable what information is in the public domain. All these companies are registered to Rosebery [[Avenue->Thought 59]].

No. Definitelty no time for pay gaps, salary levels and four companies for the price of one. We're here to talk Hip Hop. We're definitely not here to talk about institutional power or male [[bias->Thought 60]].

Hang on... ...I've got a thought [[brewing->Thought 61]].

Are you saying that **** is a site of institutional power that is run by men and erases women? Are you saying that **** attracts money and funding to protect and develop itself without putting their community and their needs first? Are you talking about Sadlers Wells, Breakin' Convention or Hip [[Hop->Thought 62]]?

Anyway, we must get [[on->Thought 63]].

We're here to talk about 14 pieces of writing and see that if by linking and connecting them can we make any new insights? From those pieces of writing, there are a total of 25 works from 2016-2020. Of those 25 works, four have been created by women as choreographer or artistic director. [[16%->Thought 64]].

[[16%->Thought 65]]?

That's not a reflection of what I've seen. I've seen works by: House of Absolute, Caramel Soldier, Ffion Campbell-Davies, Ella Mesma, Saskia Horton, Jonadette Carpio, Elsabet Yonas, Viki Cercek, Avant Cymru and more. However, these works have often been 10-20 minutes in length, presented early in their life (sometimes fresh out of an initial development period) when it would not be useful to offer a critical public lens on them as the works had not yet found their finished form. I wonder why these works __haven't__ been developed into longer, fuller, finished works. I wonder why they __haven't__ received an equitable level of investment and support to tour their work. I wonder [[why...->Thought 66]]

Let's really start. Let's really start again. Let's really start again looking at the work. Let's really start again looking at the work authored by women. Where would you like to go? _Man Up_ by [[Kloe Dean->Kloe1]]. Or _The Head Wrap Diaries_ by [[Uchenna Dance->Uchenna1]].

Kloe Dean’s _Man Up_ is a 35-minute work that is part of an emotionally affecting Hip Hop dance theatre double bill - from July 2019 at Laban - alongside _Sean_ by Chris Reyes. It has developed substantially from an earlier and shorter iteration presented first at Ignition Dance Festival in June 2018 and four months later at the Startin’ Point Commission Platform at The Place. _Man Up_ is an autobiographical story, adding a comedic twist to the profound and surreal circumstances surrounding her father’s suicide. It explores the stark realities of male suicide and the parallel emotional journeys of those left behind. There is an audible intake of breath from the audience as Dean emerges out of the tangle of sky-blue ropes on the stage after crouching invisibly under it as still as an iceberg for nearly ten minutes as the audience filtered in. It’s a stunning [[opening->Kloe2]].

“_If I were really asked to define myself, I wouldn’t start with race; I wouldn’t start with blackness; I wouldn’t start with gender; I wouldn’t start with feminism. I would start with stripping down to what fundamentally informs my life, which is that I’m a seeker on the path. I think of feminism, and I think of anti-racist struggles as part of it. But where I stand spiritually is, steadfastly, on a path about love_.” bell hooks The tone and pacing of The Head Wrap Diaries is well crafted as the chapters shift between solo characters, fierce dancing and clear movement direction. Attah’s detailed portrait of Auntie Florence in her hairdresser’s chair, (wo)manspreading, hutching up the hem of her dress and delivering a perm monologue in a booming Nigerian voice with oodles of inflexions and pitches, has the crowd in howls of laughter. From a single arm and face raised high echoing _We give thanks, we give thanks_ to _How old am I? How old are you?_ The audience erupts. Clemenson’s wide eyed death stare and swift head shake as she commands a reluctant Ajayi to sit between her legs and prepare for the mother of all hair brushings is a parody born of experience. Ajayi’s quivering legs, splayed toes and tensed fingers create memory triggers and bodily reactions for the audience. I’m surrounded by the voices of mothers who share with their neighbours: _Too true, too true_. and _Perhaps I shouldn’t do that to my daughter_. These stories, communities and histories are culturally rooted across decades, continents and politics; it is testament to Igbokwe’s authentic and humorous portrayal of Black, female experience that the crowd responds with such vocal [[relish->Uchenna 3]].

Scenographically there are two fixed hairdressing chairs, three wig stands and a large screen positioned upstage on which a number of Black female hairstyles and portraits are projected. The screen feels unnecessary, not only because the images are often partially bleached out by the lighting but the screen content draws attention away from the dancers. This material might sit better as an accompaniment to the pre- and post-show foyer installation that includes head wraps for sale, newly commissioned art work, organic tea, photography and dolls, all of which aid the understanding and engagement of the work, framed the performance and ensured the audience had a hands-on (and heads-on) experience. Apart from the hairdressing chairs there are seven others placed stage left; at the beginning of the performance two audience members are invited to sit on them offering an alternative perspective of the performance. When Attah, in the role of a travelling saleswoman, demonstrates step by step the art of putting on the head wrap, Clemenson and Ajayi follow her instructions but the two unsuspecting audience members need a lot of encouragement to try; after calls from the audience to _tuck, tuck_ they too - eventually - are wrapped. This is one of the few hands-on moments of interaction between cast and audience; it's an element that could expand, bringing more people on and off stage to create the melee and buzz of a [[salon->Uchenna 4]].

“_Challenging power structures from the inside, working the cracks within the system, however, requires learning to speak multiple languages of power convincingly_.” Patricia Hill Collins The Head Wrap Diaries is a hair piece but it is also a dance piece and when the choreographed sections arrive they land with ferocity. Attah, Ajayi and Clemenson’s head-snapping faux self-importance, all fill the stage with swag. Together they cat walk, strut, waack and are constantly up on their toes and calves giving elasticity to their steps. This strut bouncing embellishes their characters, accentuates their rhythm and pays homage to the Queen of the New Jack Swing, Janet Jackson. With only two English venues on the tour, the increasingly conservative and monochromatic choices by UK dance venues is a massive concern. Here is a work that is engaging, authentic, culturally rooted and beautifully danced with an intelligent installation and (head)wrap-around programme. With communities crying out for representation, it is no longer acceptable for programmers to think they already have their one "Black/disabled/trans/Hip Hop" artist in their season and can’t programme another. Never mind Arts Council England’s Creative Case for Diversity, The Head Wrap Diaries is great dance for [[all->Uchenna 5]].

I could have spent all night in the Uchenna Salon; the reaction and engagement from the crowd is testament to how well the work connected in 2016. So. Fast forward. In March 2018 - The Place announced it would work with Amy Bell, Vicki Igbokwe and Claire Cunningham through its Work Place artist development scheme. Remember the fabled artist development from Breakin' Convention...well it's slightly better at The Place. There's at least some money on the table. So. Would you like to: Read what Eddie Nixon from The Place said about Vicki in that press [[release->Uchenna 5.1]]? Or Read about another work authored and performed by a [[woman->Kloe1]]? Or Read about another work created by another Work Place [[artist->AG1]]?

Eddie Nixon of The Place in March 2018 said: "_I’m thrilled that we will be working with Amy, Claire and Vicki to support the development of their ideas. Each artist has a very distinctive voice_." Great. Support is brilliant. Artists love support. He continued: "_Amy is an intelligent, rigorous maker who has provocative, compelling things to say about gender and identity_." "_Claire has long impressed us with her smart, delicate, generous work_." "_Vicki has a dynamic, energetic movement language which mashes up house, contemporary and African dance styles_.’ Now. Do you detect any difference in the choice of language used to describe the artists, how they work and what they produce? OK. Talking of language. How about a work which uses language and words to say and not say [[things->BP1]] at the same time?

“_But struggling with these better feelings was pride — the vice of the lowest and most debased creatures no less than of the high and self-assured_.” Charles Dickens Avant Garde Dance has been going “against the grain” for the last 15 years under the auspices of artistic director, Tony Adigun. Having seen more than a dozen of their outdoor and indoor works, to commissioning them to work on large-scale performances, to working with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra on the iconic performance _Vesalii Icones_ by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, I saw their interpretation of a Dickens classic at Glasgow's Tramway in May 2016. _Fagin’s Twist_, co-produced by The Place, is their largest tour to date with over 40 performances across 2016 and substantial support from Arts Council England and other co-commissioning partners. Working with the writer Maxwell Golden and dramaturg Adam Peck, the audience is presented with a simple storyboard narrative that focuses on Fagin (Joshua James Smith) forging in the workhouse, his adventures in the lair and his ultimate undoing by young master [[Twist->AG2]].

Body Politic’s _Father Figurine_ should be celebrated as one of the first full-length Hip Hop theatre works from a Hip Hop company based outside London that has multiple tour dates across southern England and I saw it at The Wardrobe Theatre, Bristol in September 2019. Based in Oxford, Body Politic’s artistic director Emma-Jane Greig describes _Father Figurine_ as a work that attempts to "_question the stigmas around the mental health of men and boys whilst combining poignant spoken word poetry with Hip Hop dance, to explore the fractured relationship between a father and his son and their inability to healthily deal with a traumatic event_". “_Then John knew that a curse was renewed from moment to moment, from father to son. Time was indifferent, like snow and ice; but the heart, crazed wanderer in the driving waste, carried the curse forever_.” James Baldwin In Tyrone Isaac-Stuart’s father and Isaac Ouro-Gnao’s son, we have two eminently watchable and skilled Hip Hop technicians. Oura-Gnao transforms, shrinks and takes up less space in the first 20 minutes with his physical mannerisms and facial mimicry that bring to the fore a sense of a six or seven-year old boy (not his college playing age) idolising his father, whilst Isaac-Stuart broods, blunts and isolates himself from all things in his [[orbit->BP2]].

Opening with the full company of eight dancers rotating, snaking and snapping whilst passing a mid-size white hat box between them exposes an early weakness as the ability to blend prop handling and movement restricts them and doesn’t allow them the anatomical freedom to focus or execute with the required conviction. Slipping between theatre, Hip Hop styles and contemporary dance we’re introduced to a krumping Bill Sykes (Dani Harris-Walters), a breaking Artful Dodger (Aaron Nuttall) and a contemporary Nancy (Lisa Hood). Stylistically these fit their character traits — in the first act the jittery physical vocabulary and nimble B-Boy flourishes of Nuttall add a depth of character as he breaks the fourth wall with a welcome set of narrations which aid the interpretation. Smith has also a certain dash about him, like a fencer darting across the stage with able command of both body and voice. With the five leads including Twist (Jemima Brown) mic’ed up we unfortunately see a lacklustre physicality seeping into the vocal performances; a lack of conviction in both body and voice, and an inconsistency across the two acts (this is the 12th performance on tour) caused my interest to [[wane->AG3]].

The first act is a series of establishing speeches twinned with tutting and Hip Hop routines delving into Fagin, his gradual acceptance by Sykes, their joint escape, finding the lair and the introduction of Oliver. With a second act full of stage choreography for exposition purposes, the character definition breaks down and we are left with eight moving bodies who’ve seemingly forgotten their original intentions and emotional relationships with each other. With a recurring motif of a low-crouched, puppet-armed jump that hints at _A Clockwork Orange_, the pack often comes together before splitting off into duets and trios that fall very close to _Hip Hop as mime_ territory. There’s a fine line between showing a story and keeping the audience on the outside and telling a story and pulling us [[in->AG3.5]].

_Fagin’s Twist_ offers an entertaining night out for those new to dance theatre who might be a little Dickens curious and there’s a slick production mask scaffolding the work. Jackie Shemesh’s lighting design casts elongated shadows, hiding faces and bodies in the half-light whilst Yann Seabra’s set offers nooks, levels and holes for the dancers to weave and scuttle about in. However, if it’s going to sing loud in the autumn tour and emerge as a signature work, then some dramaturgical repairs are in order to build bonds with the audience so we can begin to care rather than watching blunt fireworks; dancers should fill and execute their characters whilst injecting a consistent musicality into their performances and Adigun needs to bring some abrasion and grit back into his choreography. “_You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete_.” Buckminster [[Fuller->AG5]].

What I notice upon second viewing is a clarity and cleanliness; choreographic lines are crisper and the lighting design shines, frames and hits the movement. With visuals, shadows and dancers combining to create lines that are punctuated by shorter dialogue, score and soundtrack – it feels like I'm watching dance morse code. The first half moves along at pace and is crammed full of movement and moving bodies; slick duets, group choreography and excellent control of transitions ensures there’s no time for the audience or their eyes to dwell and lose [[focus->AG1.3]].

Act two continued at pace and although the narrative tightened up and pin sharp performances continued, I am still left wanting more. _Fagin's Twist_ - like Tony himself - straddles many worlds, the commercial, the contemporary and the Hip Hop and there's no doubt that all three came into play here. However in an attempt to satisfy all three of the worlds - and that of The Place as co-commissioner - does the work satisfy any of them individually? It is a well produced work with a lot of support behind it. 1000s of people saw it across the UK and around the world and outside of Zoo Nation's runs at The Peacock Theatre more people probably saw this Hip Hop dance theatre work than any other in the past decade. Less than 12 months after the second tour of _Fagin's Twist_ they secured National Portfolio Organisation status from Arts Council England for the 2018-2023 period receiving £221,250 per year or £1.1 million over five [[years->AG1.4]].

Are you interested in reading a whole other (and previously unpublished) response to _Fagin's Twist_ after I went to see it five months later in October [[2016->AG1.1]]? Or Are you interested in seeing what happens when Avant Garde Dance received a commission from Without Walls to make an outdoor work called _Table [[Manners_->AG5.1]]? Or Are you interested in another Hip Hop artist and their re-imagining of another piece of [[literature->G1]]?

Like the titular character in Dicken’s original Oliver Twist, I returned to _Fagin’s Twist_ for more after an initial encounter in May 2016 at Tramway in Glasgow. This time it was in the middle of Avant Garde Dance’s Autumn 2016 tour and 20+ date October run at The Place; having been worked on, tweaked and edited over summer 2016 I reflect my original impressions from the first viewing and add newer thoughts. My first Fagin centred on the need for: dramaturgical repair, building bonds with the audience, dancers needing to fill out their characters and if Adigun could bring an abrasion and grit back to his [[choreography->AG1.2]].

Picture the scene... Greenwich and Docklands International Festival...Summer 2017...in the shadow of the Cutty Sark...we're here for the premiere of _Table Manners_ - the new work by Avant Garde Dance. Commissioned by Without Walls (it smells of money), it describes itself as ‘A choreographic feast exploring human relationships through our cultural connections with food and dining, with a thought-provoking social subtext.’ The reality is somewhat different. It's an undercooked and disjointed collection of scenes that reheat tired food clichés that have little cultural relevance. At 40 minutes, _Table Manners_ sags dramatically between scenes as the three dancers tinker with fiddly adjustments needed to switch and extend the table surfaces, drawing our focus away from choreography, plot or any semblance of interest. Sasha Shadid proves particularly irksome as an over-officious, fake-dacting (dance acting) waiter, while Duwane Taylor and Julie Minaai are presented as 2D characters who struggle to exhibit any technique or [[musicality->AG5.1.1]].

“_When I first read ‘On the Road,’ it helped me figure out how to live against the grain. Now I wonder how to be subversive when the subversive has become mainstream_.” Tony D’souza I see a number of echoes where you could replace Fagin with Adigun; having started life outside the system he recruits a merry band of accomplices who begin to scratch a living together. Success comes slowly as he is embraced by others, but responsibility weighs heavy for the health of the unit whilst younger and hungrier insiders begin to splinter as he takes his eye off his pocket watch. However, after 15 years can you continually go against the grain? Being swallowed by a centre that is slowly de-teething and sanding the edges that made them want you in the first place is the current position for Adigun. Akram Khan serves as a warning and/or [[inspiration->AG4]].

“_There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist_.” Fernando Pessoa _Conform to Rebel_ is Duwane Taylor’s first mixed-bill performance at Redbridge Drama Centre, commissioned by Artists4Artists, the increasingly valuable collective of Lee Griffiths, Joseph Toonga and Emily Crouch that works as a vehicle for change in Hip Hop dance. They are achieving a lot more than 99% of other dance development orgs/venues who are paid to do similar jobs. As a performer Taylor has a fine Hip Hop pedigree as one the UK’s leading exponents of krump. As well as creating work for his own krump crew, Buckness Personified, he has performed with ZooNation, Boy Blue Entertainment and a suite of others. As a choreographer he has made a number of shorter works including the seven-minute _Candle in the Dark_ presented at British Dance Edition in 2014, Speak presented as part of Resolution 2018 at The Place and he was one of four choreographers to work with LIFT 2018 and East London Dance’s _East Wall_ under the overall direction of Hofesh Shechter. Advertised as a mixed bill, the evening consisted of three works but with a first half of two works with a total duration of less than 20 minutes _Conform to Rebel_ offers more of a choreographic tasting of Taylor’s range rather than fully developed works. With Taylor presenting the mixed bill under his own name rather than that of his crew, he follows a trend of some artists stepping out of their company to profile themselves first and their company [[second->DT2]].

It is refreshing to see Far From the Norm’s 25 minute outdoor work _Da Native_ at Greenwich and Docklands International Festival 2017; it's a work that actively refuses to locate itself and embraces multiple narrative readings. Set against a geodesic dome decorated with three-sided patterned textiles that echo the cultural significance attached to weaving and cloth that exists in different non-Western cultures. Set in the shadow of Greenwich Park’s statue of Major-General James Wolfe (the 18th century British army officer posthumously dubbed ‘The Conqueror of Quebec’ for capturing Quebec City from the French), the territorial and colonial frame in which Da Native operates offers extra resonance. With no(r)mads arriving from east/west and finding respite in the dome _Da Native_ - choreographed by Botis Seva - offers a series of tight choreographic rituals that look at community, home and [[departure->FFTN2]].

_Fagin's Twist_ started its public life - as a 20 minute sharing - at an event I created in Bournemouth in 2014 called the Hip Hop Dance Summit; I co-curated it with Polly Risbridger at East London Dance and here six years later the work (which was also recently presented as part of The Place Online) is still breathing. Apart from the woeful Table Manners which was created in Summer 2017 (and never came out again) and the occasional curated event like Show and Prove or Collabo they haven't produced anything new since 2014. However... With news of the new work _Illegal Dance_ coming in 2020/21 across film, stage and outdoors, it's interesting to see how money, credits & commissions frame things. What it looks like is this... Avant Garde & The Place present Tony Adigun's Illegal Dance - Freedom Is Never Free. Commissioned by The Place and DanceEast. "The project hopes to include holographic projection, image mapping and also digital animation. All designed for performance in mid-scale theatres." It's definitely not a Bond movie - Freedom Is Never Free - but Illegal Dance is a re-invention of their multimedia production _Illegal Dance_ which previewed at Greenwich Dance in 2010/11 with narration from Inua [[Ellams->AG1.5]].

With a consistency of physical detonation and attack, Norm dancers deliver a water-tight performance balancing moments of stillness atop the dome with searing choreographic ensemble work. Images of drenched cloths being pulled from the dancers’ mouths like a magician’s mouth coil conjure up arid landscapes and dusty travels and leave an indelible mark on the audience. With some tweaking by shifting and extending the visual focus of the work to three sides (not just front on), _Da Native_ could be a work that offers alternative perspectives and rejects the often simplistic narrative of other outdoor works. Three years later. More [[Botis->FFTN1.1]]? Or Something that has not been created in [[London->Bab1]]. Or More works from a [[festival->Bang1]]

I watched _Queen Blood_ by Ousmane Sy (aka Babson) in lockdown - on screen - on Friday April 24; it had originally been broadcast by France.tv in December 2019. Filmed at Espace 1789 in St Ouen, Queen Blood remains available to view online for _free_ till December 2020; there is a wealth of other French, France-based and international dance work available as well. It's available year-round (in or out of lockdown) if you wish to explore. _Queen Blood_ self describes as: ‘_Femininities through house dance. Ousmane Sy made his debut in hip-hop in the 1990s and quickly became a representative of house dance, into which he integrated the Afro-house spirit with gestures inspired by traditional African dances. With Queen Blood, the choreographer continues his creative work on house dance through a show that explores what femininity can be: in dance, gesture, that assumed or suffered, etc. The seven dancers from the four corners of hip-hop respond with virtuosity through personal journeys danced in distinct musical universes (acoustic and electronic)_.’ Having watched multiple broadcasts during lockdown this was the only one that acknowledged the production team prior to performance and screened the dancers names alongside a short snippet of them warming up so I knew who I was [[watching->Bab2]].

I know this broadcast was directed by Josselin Carré and produced by La Belle Télé. It was a simple gesture but for those who are not familiar with the dancers, knowing their names before the performance creates a relationship and offers a respect that I’ve not seen before. _Queen Blood_ is a remarkable and emotionally rich work manifested by seven exceptional performers — Nadia Gabrieli-Kalati, Linda Hayford, Nadiah Idris, Odile Lacides, Cynthia Lacordelle, Audrey Minko and Stéphanie Paruta. It’s a portrait of femininities which has house dance at its choreographic core but branches out to include dozens of other Hip Hop dance vocabularies executed with acres of style, deep clean technical execution and a sense of community and strength that echoed a pressing need in these times of lockdown. The camera choices, editing and knowledge of the choreography (to capture emotion and angles not seen by the in-theatre audience) revealed nuances, bodily and facial details alongside relational connections between the performers that aligned with Sy’s [[intentions->Bab3]].

Project producer Emily Labhart offered an overview of Taylor’s choreographic offerings as an introduction. The first work - _Anchored to The Beat_ - (six minutes) had been made with three emerging dance artists and one member of Buckness Personified in little over a day. It is unfair to offer any critical judgment on their performance or on a work that has had so little time in the studio; while it is noble to offer a platform to the emerging artists, putting them in front of an audience with so little rehearsal time feels a little exposing. “_True rebels, after all, are as rare as true lovers, and in both cases, to mistake a fever for passion can destroy one’s life_.” James Baldwin _Letter to My_... is a 10-minute solo that ‘explores the concept of absent fathers, which is often perceived as a recurrent reality within black communities’ with a score remixed by Jean-Pierre Nyamangunda and Taylor featuring Jay-Z and Will Smith’s spoken word. Taylor emerges with his face masked under an oversized rubbery hoodie which absorbs his arms and offers an interesting possibility of masking and swallowing his movement so that it becomes undefined and abstracted. Sitting facing an empty seat, Taylor plays the dual role of absent father and present son with a range of unsubtle reactions; he bursts out of his seat and hoodie to demonstrate the intensity of feeling while lip-syncing to some of the lyrics. It is well executed and technically proficient, but offers little choreographic, emotional or performative development from some of Taylor’s earlier [[works->DT3]].

Seeing _Conform To Rebel_ a week after Ffion Cambell-Davies’ evolving 20-minute solo _Womb Paves Way_ offers an alternative perspective on how krump can be used in a Hip Hop dance theatre context. _Womb Paves Way_ looks at gender violence and colonialism whilst using a number of theatrical techniques and styles of dance, including a short use of krump. Although it feels like the work is still evolving and not yet settled, Campbell-Davies uses that brief window of krump in such an intelligent, restrained and nuanced way that demonstrates an exceptional choreographic awareness and ability to shift the emotional plane of her audience. “_Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul_.” Virginia Woolf With a voodoo and ritualistic frame, the third work, _Conform To Rebel, Rebel To Conform_, gives Taylor and Buckness Personified the space and time (twenty-five minutes) to demonstrate their krump technique alongside a wider hip hop dance theatre vocabulary. Claire Hough skulks with menace and krump erupts from her limbs and face with a controlled power and threat which is mesmerising to watch. Her eyes and facial delivery have an almost abinhaya-like quality amplifying what her body is conveying as she corrals the other dancers into conformity with her choreographic [[line->DT4]].

There is a consistent debate and schism within Hip Hop between those who wish to preserve the foundation and codified movement vocabulary and those who wish to experiment, evolve and re-present those original forms in a choreographic and theatrical setting. Taylor clearly wants to evolve, and there are riveting moments when he brings Viviana Rocha on to his shoulder in an expression of double-decker krump and mixes the jab into a wider choreography. There is also a series of floor-based sequences with the performers on their backs; seeing krump on different planes, where the movement comes from within the body and projects into space is something I’ve not seen before. There’s a definite Shechter influence in some of the travelling sequences and if the work is on a conformity-to-rebellion scale, it would sit in the light rebellion spectrum. However, there is something interesting in Taylor’s choreographic voice; _Conform To Rebel, Rebel To Conform_ demonstrates that Taylor can create and integrate the use of krump and other Hip Hop dance forms into a powerful and resonant [[work->DT5]].

You've developed a taste for krump. Congratulations. Fancy one large [[krump->G1]] or three smaller [[krumps->A4A1]]? All of the krump has been produced by Artists4Artists...they also produced [[this->CR1]].

It was just over a year ago in April 2019 that I went back to The Place for _3 Rounds of Amp_ produced by Artists4Artists. We are still in a moment of growth for Hip Hop dance theatre and we sit within the eye of the storm of the third wave of UK Hip Hop theatre makers, artists who have access to two generations of successes and failures alongside their respective knowledge and egos. Over the past 18 months A4A has been instrumental in supporting London-based makers in presenting new 20 to 30 minute works across London venues; they are nudging the community forward, evolving the forms and ensuring people sit up and take notice. _3 Rounds of Amp_ is their third production of krump work in eight months and this one features the choreography of Amanda Pefkou, Jordan ‘JFunk’ Franklin aka AIM, and Joshua Nash. Pefkou’s opening of her _Stranger at Home_ is exquisite; a single bare bulb upstage left, a tight focus of light inviting us to study her face, neck and torso in a simmering krump reduction. We’re here for six or seven minutes and it’s theatrically brave, taking our eyes, keeping them there and drawing us into her emotional states. Pefkou has delivered a number of leading krump performances in the past 18 months with roles in Becky Namgaud’s Like Honey and Theo ‘Godson’ Oloyade’s _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ – here she is only able to take us so far with her own choreography as a loose and flabby middle section undoes all the opening [[work->A4A2]].

There’s some diagonal crawl towards a downstage right light that is located firmly in the forest of obvious. Towards the end she expels an I Belong Here – a cry-scream harnessing the power that has been building, erupting and passing through her (here as a woman? here as a woman in Hip Hop? here as a woman in Hip Hop at The Place?). This pared down, stripped, minimalist krump, whilst retaining the emotional heft, intensifies the feelings and is a marker of interesting things to come A number of Hip Hop dance forms when performed in battle or on stage have a narrow physical radius; in drawing attention to a single spot and bringing verticality, intricacy and detail to the fore popping, krump and breaking sacrifice any ability to travel, to move across a stage, to shift our attention and keep within the choreographic or conceptual worlds that have been created. All three works this evening suffer from this; as we see them move, exit or enter the stage between sections, tracks and scenes the dancers erase any concentration or magic. This also creates the trap of raw emotional fireworks into which krump theatre sometimes falls. Franklin’s AIMagination was the prime culprit in creating isolated visual bursts of energy that exist purely in silos. Displays of bravura technique only satisfy a certain portion of the head and heart; Franklin has used the theatrical context as mere ornamental decoration to amp up solo activity without the responsibility and dramaturgical consideration that is needed to craft, glue and take an audience with [[him->A4A3]].

Although his 30-minute work garnered the most vocal reaction it was theatrically the weakest. AIMagination is a choreographic treatment for an EP dressed in Antony Hateley’s succulent lighting However, _Blacklist_ by Joshua Nash is the most theatrically complete (and there’s an acknowledgement in the programme notes for Kwesi Johnson ‘for the mentoring and artistry in the studio’) and the middle 15 minutes brought krump into a conceptually and choreographically interesting sci-fi plane. Complimented by Torben Lars Sylvest’s emotionally rich score (which feels fresh out of the video game series Mass Effect) and Giacomo Bevanati’s wearable wire head piece, the collaborators succeed in changing the physicality, the emotional spectrum and the choreographic possibilities. If this section was built, exploded and dived into further there is real theatrical promise here. Nash offers a mission statement in his programme notes that he ‘aims to change perceptions of krump being nothing more than an aggressive dance style.’ With Blacklist he achieves this and much, much more. A4A have been doing the work presenting work at Richmix, Redbridge Drama Centre, Laban and The Place. That the houses are sold out is a testament to their success. However, from August 2018 to July 2019 the ratio of male to female performers they are presenting (Duwane Taylor, Theo Godson Oloyade, Joshua Nash, Jordan Franklin and Amanda Pefkou) is 4 to 1 and their upcoming double bill of Chris Reyes and Kloé Dean will bring the ratio to 5 to 2. People who programme and produce work always have a choice of who they work [[with->A4A4]].

Krump audiences have an almost audio descriptive quality to them, with the live reactions of _naughty_, _mad_ and _let’s go_ peppering the air when they see things they appreciate or recognise. A night at the krump theatre is a rich, rewarding experience unlike any other and in _3 Rounds of Amp_ all the constituent parts of the krump vocabulary are present in abundance – we could play krump bingo with the chest pops, illusions and fake outs – but _Stranger at Home_ and _Blacklist_ have moved the form forward. Pefkou and Nash have pared it down, reached into sci-fi planes and almost Beckettian territory which, although not immediately obvious krump bedfellows, offer future theatrical promise. Artists4Artists are Lee Griffiths, Emily Crouch and Joseph Toonga; they are doing the work. They also do other things outside of the A4A umbrella, so who would you like to follow... [[Lee->BP1]] [[Emily->CR1]] [[Joseph->M8]]

“_A man who aspires to rise above the mediocre, to be something more than the ordinary, surely deserves admiration, even if he fails and loses a fortune on account of his ambitions… if one has failed only where others have not had the courage or will to try, there is consolation — indeed, deep satisfaction — to be gained from his observation when looking back over one’s life_.” Kazuo Ishiguro Riding, reworking and interpreting classic works of western literature is the default setting for a lot of UK male-led dance companies of late; Lost Dog’s _Paradise Lost/Juliet & Romeo_, Mark Bruce Company’s _The Odyssey_ and _Dracula_, Avant Garde Dance’s _Fagin’s Twist_, James Wilton Dance’s _Leviathan_ and James Cousins Company’s _Rosalind_ are just some of the examples. Often framed as an opportunity to attract new or theatre audiences to dance, it could be seen as a smart marketing device or a poverty of original ideas. Macbeth has a particularly strong hold on current choreographic minds with Company Chordelia’s _Lady Macbeth Unsex Me Here_, Mark Bruce Company’s _Macbeth_ and now - in July 2018 at Laban - _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ by Theo ‘Godson’ Oloyade all undertaking the Shakespearean Scottish play in the last 12 months. At 55 minutes long with a cast of four (Amanda Pekfou, Jordan Franklin, Dean Stewart and Vincent Maduabueke) this is Oloyade’s first full-length theatrical work - and produced by Artists4Artists - after spending a number of years performing with Boy Blue Entertainment, making short works for Breakin’ Convention as well as being an excellent exponent and teacher of [[krump->G2]].

Choreographically the space between the torso and the head is rarely a focus; it’s often used to draw attention elsewhere, a passing place, an in-between place towards more important sites. The emotionally affecting Hip Hop theatre double bill - from July 2019 at Laban - of _Sean_ by Chris Reyes and _Man Up_ by Kloe Dean uses the neck as a site of power, a radar of threat and an antenna of pleasure from which to explore two autobiographical experiences. _Sean_ is a 35-minute work that Reyes frames as ‘a journey of displacement, family and migration. Sean (British-born Filipino) shares his stories and the memories of early immigrant, Rosemary (Sean’s mum). What does it mean to be British born?’ The opening twenty minutes see Reyes and Jonadette Carpio creating and establishing a danceless narrative of a complex mother/son relationship; Carpio’s character has left the Philippines and heads to Britain to give her son a better life where she takes up a cleaning job to support him, but Reyes’s character does not achieve enough for his mother, turning him subsequently to drink (manifested by a black morph-suited cameo from Mikiel Donovan). Emotional contagion and inherited familial trauma is complex territory to explore but Reyes — with support from Maxwell Golden’s dramaturgy — uses a suite of theatrical techniques to hook the audience: _I’ve been sober five years today_ or _I saved all my lunch money to buy my mum a small fish_. It’s an efficient twenty minutes although it felt a little obvious that the bait lines we’ve swallowed will be reused later in the [[show->CR2]].

How removed is _Sean_ from Reyes’ own experience? How much is autobiographical and how much fiction? Reyes is credible in the role of Sean (and it feels like a deeper dive into the character he created for previous work - _Caravan_) but the artifice of a younger Carpio playing his mother isn’t convincing and distances us emotionally again. However, the intensity of their final fifteen-minute duet, with its focus on the power of the neck, speaks of emotional violence and restrictions. We feel the tension through the choke holds that bleed into lift hugs, and in focusing entirely on to their inability to shed/embrace their identity they own the large stage. It’s electric. The earlier use of language and the emotional spoon-feeding isn’t necessary; their physical communication is strong enough to convey what they want without recourse to words. There is something about the notion of ‘enough’ that links the work and its author; was Sean good enough for his mother? As someone who is British-born, is Sean’s character British enough? Is he Filipino enough? Is there enough dance in _Sean_? Is _Sean_ Hip Hop enough? There are many parallels in different media that are currently exploring the notions of ‘enough’ and how individuals sit between worlds; one of the most effective is _Brit(ish)_ by Afua Hirsch; a non-fiction work of memoir/reportage about her time in Senegal and the UK, finding she is considered too British to be Senegalese and too Senegalese to be British. It’s an eloquent reflection on where we (don’t) belong. To read about the other half of the double bill - Kloe Dean's _Man Up_ - head [[here->Kloe1]].

Whereas others may ply their trade at Resolution, building up experience in other platforms, or refining the work back in the studio Oloyade has chosen to premiere _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ at Laban after an earlier showing of a few sections at Redbridge Drama Centre in May Macbeth is a text full of hooks and angles of approach: power, murder, psychological warfare and familial tyranny. Mix this with the depth of emotion, delicate and explosive qualities and body shuddering invigoration that krump has in the cypher or battle and _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ has a suite of possibilities; unfortunately it fails at nearly everything it attempts. With no director, dramaturg or outside eye present according to the programme notes, Oloyade as choreographer is left holding responsibility for the blocking, movement and stagecraft, but his theatrical inexperience is brutally exposed with a raft of saggy scenes, continual slow movement of limbs that do not result in tension or emotional engagement, a number of moments inexplicably playing upstage left, and a stick-stabbing shadow death scene that would fit better in a 1970s schlocky horror film. The staccato nature of _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ feels like a diluted version of a York Notes guide to a Chinese whisper broadcast of the original Shakespearian play. It is unrecognisable as Macbeth and Oloyade offers no alternative artistic interpretation, little depth of research/inquiry and no emotional narrative to help us feel anything towards any [[character->G3]].

“_Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose_.” Zora Neale Hurston Choreographically Oloyade has constricted the form and at the same time constricted the work; it is full of unnecessary blockages with the dancers waiting for the obvious musical changes from Michael ‘Mikey J’ Asante’s dominant soundtrack stretching out the movement without developing the narrative, and attempts at synchronised krump are inadequate with the stomps out at least 50% of the time. There is an uneven quality in their jabs, isolation/physical punctuation and our eyes are consistently drawn to those dancers who are unable to keep time. Mixing and/or blending krump with contemporary knee slides and fake rifle holding neither satisfies the krump purist nor brings a new choreographic vocabulary to those unfamiliar with the form; we’re left with a sticky choreographic mess that is only exacerbated when in the final scene ‘KRUMP’ is blurted out over the soundtrack offering all the subtlety of a Hip Hop [[anvil->G4]].

Can you imagine a Scottish Dance Theatre soundtrack blaring ‘CONTEMPORARY DANCE’ in a climactic scene or Ballet Cymru using a ‘BALLET’ audio sting in the final moments? When the stage is bathed in red the Goddess of Blunt Instruments is making it obvious: we know what is going on. Within the company there are dancers with individual talent and virtuosity; Maduabueke offers charged flickers of intensity whilst Stewart delivers some moments of choreographic power and complexity, but there is so little glue, context or relationship forged between them that it erases any of the possibilities. When Oloyade presented his eight-minute work _Hell’s Gate 7_ at Breakin’ Convention last year there were interesting relational dynamics, power and theatrical possibilities demonstrating that he has choreographic talent, but the leap from an eight to a 55-minute work is too big. The stagecraft, direction and dramaturgy need consideration and attention if he wants to make a full-length theatrical work. Within the individual scenes of _K.R.U.M.P Macbeth_ there are interesting shorter sections that either could be harvested and sit alone in their own right as smaller pieces or re-worked and [[expanded->G5]].

Dean delivers an emotionally devasting movement monologue that zooms in and out of the tiny details that stick with you when you lose a parent. The rasping kiss of the nylon rope on skin as it brushes her radio mic is eerie; we see her carving it across her neck, wrapping it around her wrists and marking out territory on stage. One of the significant improvements from the previous iteration is the inclusion of composer Teresa Origone, who performs her synth-laden score down stage left in a sonic call-and-response that increases the intensity and depth of feeling on display. Origone weaves layers of lightness amongst the chord progressions which helps to ballast the work. In some moments it feels like we are unintended witnesses to a series of deeply private moments that weigh heavily; when she sings _I want to do what my daddy does_ because she’s a daddy’s girl or when she happens to be at home on the day her aunt calls at the front door to tell her the news because she’s tired and had uncharacteristically called in sick. These are heart-wrenching moments that feel very, very [[close->Kloe3]].

Dean is captivating in performance, from her original rhymes (sung and spat) to all sorts of B-Girl flavour, style and power that she throws down. Because of the repetitive placement of a noose around her neck, I’m left thinking about Hip Hop as an architecture of air and Hip Hop as suffocation; as she moves the adapted wave tightly around her torso — a taut set of waacks up to and around her face and oodles of other close Hip Hop vocabularies — her body finds it difficult to take up space, to push the air away and move through the emotional weight of the space around her. It is heartening to see an artist exploring the social/political weight of events through Hip Hop (and kudos to Artists4Artists for supporting her and Chris); for a culture that has such a history of resistance, oppression and community we too often see it mis-used to make slick, glib routines that bear little relationship to the culture they exploit. However, Dean has delivered an emotionally resonant Hip Hop work that not only highlights the fact that suicide is the single biggest killer of men under 45 in the UK, but delivers it with craft, intelligence and no shortage of [[integrity->Kloe4]].

That was good. That was really good. It sounds brilliant. Well not "brilliant" as such, more like a totally convincing and moving work created, performed and executed by women. So where next? You can choose to: Read about another work authored and performed by [[women->Uchenna1]]? Or Read about a work that has been produced by a [[woman->FFTN1]]? Or Read about a work that deals with [[femininities->Bab1]], created by a man and performed by women?

There were dozens of moments of satisfying innovation, from using the wings of the stage as centre and reframing the centre as edge (with the support of Xavier Lescat’s lighting design) to a reworking of the one of the original Hip Hop dances - the running man - to the running woman alongside an activist stillness (still so rare in Hip Hop). Imagine all the performers down stage in a line, facing you whilst a number of devastating solos played out to Nina Simone’s Four Women. As I watched _Queen Blood_ on the screen take up space, play with edges, be political and present choreography that sits in and emerges from the body with such finesse, strength and fluidity by seven incredible Black female dancers I felt something shift. This is a work that was created, performed and edited so well that I will watch it again and again. _Queen Blood_. It is quite simply a remarkable [[work->Bab4]].

I've never been so moved and so engrossed by a work of dance presented on screen. I can only imagine what the multipler effect would be of seeing it live. How about another remarkable [[work->LM1]]? Or Something [[else->AH1]] or something something [[else->Bang1]] authored outside the UK? Or Might you just want to take a [[risk...->BB1]]

A micro power portrait of Black male mental health, _Elephant In The Room_ by Lanre Malaolu at Camden People’s Theatre in April 2019 is proof that Malaolu (supported by dramaturg Season Butler) has created a work of total theatre. We meet a man, a multi-charactered everyman in control of his external body, but this control does not extend to his internal mind. Malaolu has a Hip Hop dance technique and execution that sparkles in its clarity; his physicality is accompanied by a command of language and a dexterity in verbal delivery that would cast long shadows at the Royal Shakespeare Company. He is wav(er)ing and popping. The use of these vocabularies is a fine foil for the wider debate around mental health; scrambled muscles that erupt and contract, a dispersal of clotted brain fog which bring forth windows of clarity only for them to close [[again->LM2]].

Stability and control are bywords for mental health, and if you’re experiencing low level depression GPs recommend activities and inhabiting the types of spaces that Malaolu offers up in multiple scenes. Football (exercise), Nando’s (food), barbers (community) and gym (self-worth). From a frozen barber, moving only his eyes and wrist with an imaginary shaver to a magnetic slapping of limbs and his back onto and into the floor and wall to an almost motionless slouch in a chair talking about too chewy chicken…Malaolu has the smarts and this work could and should have an international life like Inua Ellams’ _The Barbershop Chronicles_. What Malaolu achieves is a transference of a heavy feeling, a mental welt and an internal spiralling which are sometimes impossible to give shape to. The 70-minute work whistles by and it is the monstrosity of his attack, physical commitment (which bordered on the painful), multiplicity of voices and choice of stillnesses and excesses of movement that made this a satisfying event that has the ability to stimulate further discussions in this [[terrain->LM3]].

_REDD_ by Boy Blue (who’ve removed the word Entertainment from their name and descriptors in the programme) was the closing show from the Dance Umbrella Takeover of Fairfield Hall — two days of dance, performance, live music, participation and free events in Croydon which included a new commission from The Urban Playground Team and the premiere of _Here and Now_ by Mythili Prakash — and my final show of DU19. Instead of a programme synopsis, Boy Blue offers _143 Words On Grief_ by R. Moulden as a contextual explainer in the programme. At 75 minutes without interval, this is a solo for choreographer and co-artistic director Kenrick ‘H20’ Sandy, MBE, supported by a chorus of eight dancers who act as his physical echoes, partial tormentors and skulk about in the shadows of grief. As the first dance show on the newly refurbished Fairfield Halls stage, _REDD_ had an anticipation as it is the follow-up to their internationally acclaimed _Blak White Gray_. Silences and the mis-expectations of grief trigger different emotions in all those who encounter it, so how are we to comment on the sincerity or portrayal of the grief of [[another->BB2]]?

Having seen Lanre's latest creation - a 12 minute film work - _The Conversation_ released last month which he wrote, directed and choreographed the idea of "Total Theatre" or "Total Hip Hop" isn't going anyway any time soon. How about another work that had mental health/depression as a starting [[point->FFTN1.1]]. Or Might some more sites of [[masculinity->M1]] be of interest? Or Find a new route through from the [[top->Repeat1]]

As someone who has recently lost a parent, there’s little in _REDD_ that speaks to me on an emotional plane; there are no dramaturgical invitations, no communion of power, and an empathy void; I am left to bear witness and engage if I want. With this lack of generosity, my focus and reflections switch to looking at it as a work of Hip Hop theatre in an attempt to find other things in it but I’m left weary by yet another commodification of trauma. Sandy, who is on stage throughout, wades, dives, stills and re-enacts some of Moulden’s words — _slinks in like a beaten dog and makes its home at your feet...with cracked voice and lolling tongue...reaching into your mouth_ — whilst the shadows of grief make visual noise in the periphery. With a new score from composer and Boy Blue co-artistic director Michael ‘Mikey J’ Asante and a lighting design from Charlie Morgan Jones there is little subtlety and craft in how the lighting, score and choreography come together. Each of the component parts (louder music and a flash flicker of light) often emphasise a particular choreographic move on Sandy all at the same time like three anguish anvils being rammed down your [[throat->BB3]].

In previous Boy Blue works, Sandy is usually choreographically en pointe, he pops harder, isolates more cleanly and punctuates more sharply. However in _REDD_ he is the weakest performer. He looked laboured getting in and out of the floor (with his hands on his thigh to help him up), he is out of breath in the final joint choreographic sequences and his performance presence is considerably duller than previous iterations; in the final duet he is unintentionally upstaged by the execution and presence of Emma Houston with whom he dances. It’s like seeing Superman bleed. _REDD_ isn’t ready to be on stage, it doesn’t feel like it is sure what it wants to be (a solo or group work) and consequently what its strongest cast should be. There are dozens of very average contemporary dance performances happening in theatres every week; that’s because there are hundreds of artists making work across the UK and not everything can be incredible or abysmal; 90% of work sits in this middle ground. However, when a Hip Hop theatre company (who are considerably rarer and we’re talking in the low dozens of artists) makes an average work multiplied by the reputation, financial security and profile of Boy Blue, it feels shocking, but it shouldn’t. Not everything that everybody does will always be the best. We should be able to talk about and write about very average Hip Hop Theatre like we do contemporary dance; as a form, Hip Hop theatre needs honesty in the debate and honesty in the community about work that will enable it to grow and [[flourish->BB4]].

OK. I feel like I've been in here for days. What time is it? Time for the final [[act->CONC1]]? Or Are you an completionist? Have you seen and read everything? Have you been counting? 25 works? How many have you got? Ready to go back to the start to try a different [[path->Repeat1]]?

In early 2019 Botis Seva talked about the influence — on the early incarnations of his _BLKDOG_ — of Sally Brampton’s compelling and graphic Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression; in it she charts reflectively a depiction of her own isolation, incarceration, addiction and patterns of repeated abusive behaviour (which feels even more resonant in our current situation). This book influenced some of the original thinking and continues to inform the choreographic axis of the now-70-minute version of _BLKDOG_, co-produced by Sadler’s Wells. After winning the April 2019 Olivier award for the 20-minute version, the task facing Seva was to build, flesh out and construct this first of seven performance dates across England in Spring 2020; it is framed as ‘Botis Seva’s BLKDOG’ and not as authored collectively by his company, Far From the Norm. This foregrounding of founder and prominence of the auteur/creator/name is a growing London trend (hello Tony Adigun’s Avant Garde Dance and Luca Silvestrini’s Protein Dance) which in some way feeds a masculine ego — I don’t see Kloe Dean’s Myself UK Dance Company or Vicki Igbokwe’s Uchenna Dance — whilst backgrounding all the other people in the company who have fed into the process. _BLKDOG_ self describes as: ‘_A genre-defying blend of hip hop dance and free-form antics…exploring the inner battlefield of an ageing artist trying to retain his youth. Performed by Seva’s powerhouse company, Far From The Norm, _BLKDOG_ searches for coping mechanisms in the ultimate hunt for acceptance. Vital and gripping, _BLKDOG_ is Botis Seva’s haunting commentary on surviving adulthood as a childlike [[artist->FFTN1.2]]'.

There are two tracts that _BLKDOG_ explores; isolation as violence and, leading off from that, dance as violence on the self. A body placed in isolation deteriorates physically and emotionally; it fractures and is unable to heal. Shoot the Damn Dog offers an account of personal proximity to trauma, whereas _BLKDOG_ offers an account of personal proximity to isolation. As an accompanying text — although Seva doesn’t foreground it in the programme notes or marketing copy — Shoot the Damn Dog is an illuminating portal for his thinking. With six dancers on stage (Jordan Douglas, Joshua Nash, Victoria Shulungu, Shangomola Edunjobi, Naima Souhair and understudy Hayleigh Sellors, who replaced the injured Ezra Owen with 24 hours’ notice), _BLKDOG_ is a work of two states and two halves that is still in progress; if the second half is full of dinosaur onesies and crowns (courtesy of Ryan Dawson Laight) straight out of _Where The Wild Things Are_, the first half is visually reminiscent of fresh 1970s asylum threads with bespoke quilted hoods. Seva has expanded some of the choreographic palette and visual devices (gun toting/pointing and the duckwalkesque ‘nibbles’ that scuttle) from _Madhead_, his commission for NYDC in Summer 2019. The first half is the foundation of the original Olivier award-winning work demonstrating some of Seva’s core strengths: building rich and interesting choreographic movements that challenge the preconceptions of the dancing body. I like this focus on the half space. If level 1 is work/bodies on the floor, and level 2 is full verticality, there are oodles of sequences where the dancers are existing at level 1.5, demonstrating a gluteal strength and a bodily duality that is neither one thing nor the other — ready to spring or ready to collapse. It is this space that Seva likes to inhabit as he deflects choreographic boxes and boundaries into which his ‘free form antics’ do not neatly [[fit->FFTN1.3]].

Long-term music collaborator Torben Lars Sylvester (Seva’s whole creative team is male apart from producer Lee Griffiths) spoke in the post-show conversation of the process of one-upping each other, finding patterns, inflexions and musicalities that the dancers could ride and that would in turn cause him to build extra tracks and layers into the score to create an additional mood for the dancers. Thinking back on the work three days later (when I wrote this and now six weeks later in revisions) I cannot recall the score or any of the emotional drivers behind it. The proximity of choreographic isolation in both time and relationship for each dancer ensures they do not infect those around them; like a virus they remain immune to each other. There is no being influenced or influencing, and apart from the last 10 minutes when Jordan Douglas really shines brighter, hits harder and erupts, the cast of six are diminished and muted; either in their cumulative number or choreographic difference. We have six ones, rather than one six. If this is the first time you’ve seen Far From the Norm in a theatre — and for those non-London audiences it is quite possible — what you will encounter is a band of dancers who are fiercely committed and deliver a slippery blend of choreographic putty under the guidance of the good ship Seva. The first time you see a Norm it is refreshing; you’re in the presence of a set of dancers that don’t look like Hip Hop, don’t look like contemporary dance and don’t look familiar — they are defined by what they are not. Seva is isolating himself from easy choreographic definition and at the same time making a choreographic lineage hard to attribute or to see where the seeds of his influence(s) will fall [[next->FFTN1.4]].

Heavy is the Head is the last track before the show begins and Ultralight Beam is the first track after the no-bow; we have _BLKDOG_ as the filling in a Kanye and Stormzy masculinity sandwich. However, having seen six of his works since 2015/16, including his break-out work _Reck_, it feels like Seva’s choreographic language is intact; he still has a knack of creating unusual moments, motifs and visual food, but (I may be incarcerated by my/his own expectations) five years down the road his ability to sustain interest, to shift a mood or shake a mono dynamic, to think of an audience as a complex layered entity able to receive multiple signals and modes of address, needs further development. He’s in his own suburbs. It’s worth reiterating that this was the first show of the tour that should (coronavirus permitting) continue touring into Autumn 2020, and as a work tours and beds in with new audiences it will shift and be modified. I look forward to meeting _BLKDOG_ again at a later junction. I feel like I've been in here for days. Is it time for final [[thoughts->CONC1]]? Or Are you an completionist? Have you seen and read everything? Have you been counting? 25 works? How many have you got? Ready to go back to the start to try a different [[path->Repeat1]]?

“_What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think and feel without inner necessity, without any deep personal desire, without pleasure — as a mere automaton of duty_?” Friedrich Nietzsche Bodies as automatons? It’s a philosophical question that sits at the heart of choreography. Can dancers deliver the same movement, at the same intensity again and again without deviation or wrinkle? Both Antony Hamilton originating the choreography and Alisdair Macindoe inventing the bots and polyrhythmic composition dissolve the seam between choreography and composition. Their meshing as a performance duo with highly tuned musicality is a feast of call and response and displays acres of tensile strength. Imagine the microseconds before the gun of a 100m race is fired: Macindoe and Hamilton don’t go on the ‘b’ of the bang, they play in the space when the lips begin to close and formulate the hum of the ‘b’. With the 55 minute performance of _Meeting_ at Battersea Arts Centre in June 2016 split into three sections, the first sees Hamilton and Macindoe inhabiting the 4-metre radius circle of bots (64 pieces of wood measuring no more than 20 x 15 x 10 centimtres with a pencil attached to a pivoting mechanism on the side, tapping the floor at different intervals); this intensity of focus and action does not allow our gaze to wander or be distracted by any superfluous activity. It deepens the connection between audience and performers as we’re all submerged in this tight frame for the first 25 minutes; it is relentless adventure with feats of physical and verbal [[memory->AH2]].

This is going to be a long string. So get comofrtable. This early 2020 reflection on portrayals, examples and manifestations of masculinity in Hip Hop dance theatre presented across England was originally going to be longer; I had planned to feature eight works presented in different part of the country - in itself an indication of the community’s rude health - that could inspire a wider conversation around similar themes. But with COVID-19 taking hold of and effectively shutting down the social fabric, I was reduced to four pre-COVID-19 works: _Caravan Social Night 7 – The Soulquariains Tribute Edition_ by Caravan/Chris Reyes at Richmix on January 25; Far From the Norm/Botis Seva’s _BLKDOG_ at Warwick Arts Centre on February 11; Company Nil/Daniel Phung’s _Blowin’ in the Wind_ at Richmix on February 14, and _Let’s Shine Mentorship Programme_ presented by Just Us Dance Theatre at The Vaults on March 14. Those I was unable to include are Artists4Artists showcase in Gloucester presented by Strike A Light featuring _Happy Father’s Day_ by Dani Harris-Walters (now seen online and I wish I had seen it live as it would be an interesting addition to this conversation); _Fig Leaf_ by Joshua ‘Vendetta’ Nash and _Man Up_ by Kloe Dean on March 17. _Born To Manifest_ by Just Us Dance Theatre was also due to be presented at The Courtyard, Hereford on March [[26->M2]].

Some of the journal articles and books looking at masculinity, Hip Hop culture and dance that have informed my thinking around this piece are: Toby S. Jenkins A Beautiful Mind: Black Male Intellectual Identity and Hip-Hop Culture from 2011’s Journal of Black Studies; Sara LaBoskey’s Getting Off: Portrayals of Masculinity in Hip Hop Dance in Film from 2001’s Dance Research Journal; Mina Yang’s Yellow Skin, White Masks from 2013’s Daedalus, and Jessica Nydia Pabón-Colón’s Graffiti Grrlz published by New York University Press in 2018. Sat amongst this, the Producer/Writer Tobi Kyeremateng (@bobimono) published a three-tweet thread on March 1st 2020 which feels more reflective of the dialogue, complexity and intersectionality currently in play at the edges of masculinity and race and although she wasn’t explicitly citing Hip Hop dance theatre it could be read in that way. "_i’m more and more certain that i’m really not interested in creating or producing work on “the Black experience” that isn’t specific in its focus, pushes Blackness into a monolith or isn’t saying anything new or different or interesting_." "_afros, growing up in ends, road life, knife crime, Black girl magic, masculinity - all incredibly nuanced, but it doesn’t feel like artists are being challenged to push themselves to think about different and creative ways we can talk about these topics_" "_also don’t care for respectability work either lol like two ends of the same [[spectrum->M3]]_"

Presented and commissioned by Chinese Arts Now in February 2020 at Rich Mix, Daniel Phung/Company Nil’s work _Blowin in the Wind_ self describes as: ‘_a powerful and dynamic dance theatre piece addressing the complexity of the current patriarchal society, it challenges our perspective on ‘power’_. _Four characters who are forced to place their ‘power’ within patriarchy, use mind blowing Contemporary and Hip Hop dance (emphasis is mine) to take you through multiple episodes of masculinity: Sensitivity, emotion, conflict, aggression and adolescence. It is an emotional response to these following questions: What is masculinity? Does masculinity exist? What is cultural masculinity? Does cultural masculinity exist_?’ This is the first full-length work Phung has created, and these are some large claims and questions he attempts to answer with four performers in several episodes over 50 [[minutes->M4]].

Either the questions are so grandiose that they are impossible to answer or are so simplistic that we’ve heard them before. There are a few nice sketches and motifs - mainly featuring Fern Grimbley who has a physical elasticity and watchabilty that warrants a deeper choreographic challenge - but a faux tender wrestling duet in which two bodies try to inhabit the same jacket is indicative of _Blowin’ in the Wind’s_ facile representation. It offers a 2D stereotypical masculinity that belongs in the Daily Mail. There's no little thread and no authorial commentary. Despite a couple of nice lift sections and a solo for Grimbley that showcases what a fine dancer she is, the visibility of a Hip Hop choreographic language is hard to find and the throwing of paper aeroplanes into the audience and inviting their return is a fine but shallow attempt at audience engagement. I find myself leaning back to what Tobi said earlier around a need for nuance; masculinity is a big word, with a set of expectations alongside it. It isn’t a monolith. A smaller, tighter focus is needed if _Blowin’ in the Wind_ is going to add to any future dialogue around masculinity and Hip [[Hop->M5]].

The possibilities offered by the choreographic, masculine Hip Hop dance theatre body are numerous; it can be expanded, reduced, presented in binary or opposition, it can be fragile, in mourning and in many other different states. Yet I find it hard to recollect a Hip Hop dance theatre work made recently that offers either a new narrative or an alternate angle on masculinity without relying on what Yang calls: "_overt displays of masculine swagger and power, and built on a value system derived from the streets of corporeal risk-taking, competitiveness, and improvisation_." I am left yearning for the complexity, prowess, emotional strength and honesty of Kloe Dean’s _Man Up_ which I wrote about last year and now consider a yardstick for other Hip Hop dance theatre works. So far nothing has come [[close->M6]].

_Caravan Social Night 7: The Soulquarians Tribute Edition_ was an evening presented by Caravan - a project founded by Chris Reyes - which celebrated the legacy of artists J Dilla, ?uestlove, D’Angelo, James Poyser (all who shared the Aquarius starsign) and the wider 90s Neosoul movement. Although definitely not a Hip Hop dance theatre work in itself, Caravan Social Nights are primarily events and fundraisers for Reyes’ other Hip Hop dance theatre work; they are a place for some of the community to gather, to showcase and see peers exercise different creative muscles, inviting and encouraging acts to bridge music, art, dance and improvisation with all the rich pollination that comes from them. Comprising roughly five 20-minute stage sets (with a drinks interval between each), live painting by Isaac Bonan and Gatien Engo and hosted by the triple threat Ashley Joseph, the luxurious opener saw L’atisse Rhoden slow jam to Marli Artiste’s vocals and Vicky ‘Skytilz’ Mantey on drums; next up was Ben Ajose-Cutting (aka Mr Ben of The Locksmiths) with a playful set where he would control the various instruments/band members (including Turbo on drums) by lightly stamping an imaginary start/stop button in front of each musician as he layered/stripped away levels of funk and lyrics to lock [[to->M7]].

There were other sets featuring T-Boy and Inga Be with a New-Style Hustle partner duet leading into an improvisation with Dani Harris-Walters, a work from Reyes himself, and Boy Blue’s Kenrick ‘H20’ Sandy topping off the night spitting J Dilla’s _Pause_ with a trio of male dancers. Caravan is without doubt a valuable space for some of the Hip Hop community; the event was slick, full of original content and one of the few places to see artists trying something different without the pressure of their own brand. There was a consistent acknowledgement of Reyes as the driving force and focus of the night, shouted out by Joseph as the man who got the funding and who made it happen (not the producer of the event, Emily Crouch). However, what I found strange was that Reyes had a ft. in all of the stage works as well as his own set, whether that was taking over as conductor in Mr Ben’s locking stamp band, dancing in Ken’s work or improvving during L’atisse’s opener. While there’s respect for Reyes having made the evening happen and for bringing people together, when is that line crossed? When does the consistent presence of masculine ego draw focus away from the other acts? What signals does the continued attempt to assert a veneer of alpha status send to the audience and [[participants->M8]]?

Do people in Hip Hop dance theatre really want to talk about masculinity? Do they see how some may be perpetuating problematic behaviours of masculinity? Are they able to engage in the complexity that surrounds the question? Or is it a shallow and facile fundraising hook on which to hang a set of technically adequate routines whilst looking winsome and drawing attention to themselves? In 2013, Just Us Dance Theatre (JUDT) set up _Let’s Shine_, a mentoring project to empower young Hip Hop performers and provide them with tools and opportunities to develop as artists and individuals. In the latest edition of the programme (which runs weekly) ten young men aged from 16 to 23 have worked with Joseph Toonga and Ricardo Da Silva to create and perform a response — entitled Let’s Shine, like the project — to Toonga’s work Born To Manifest. Part of the problem of not having seen _Born To Manifest_ is that I’m unable to gauge the success of this 40-minute response by the seven _Let’s Shine_ dancers, but since the original was inspired by first person accounts of young Black men from across London, there are multiple things that need foregrounding in this political and socially resonant work. The lived experience and racial profiling that young Black men in London face is radically different from any other part of society; in 2018 43% of the Metropolitan Police’s Stop and Search targets were Black people who make up just 15.6% of the London population. In the same report it said that the likelihood of Black people being stopped is 4.3 times higher than White [[people->M9]].

In 2018, 76% of homicide victims were male, with 62% being of African-Caribbean heritage aged under 25, and in relation to victims of knife injuries under the age of 25, 455 were White and 1,370 were 'BAME.' Arnold Tshibangu is an absolute stand out fizzing with a performance magnetism, focus and an ability to draw and hold our attention when he is on stage, like an echo of a young Ivan Blackstock; previously he was Tin Man in the 2017 version of ZooNation’s _Groove On Down The Road_. The other performer that had a cleanness in execution and a barrelfull of energy was Musa Mohamed aka Moose; knowing that _Born To Manifest_ is a duet, I’d be interested to see if the pairing of Mohamed and Tshibangu could step up to the full work at a later date. Choreographically _Let’s Shine_ cycles through Hip Hop and funk styles; the stage is peppered with krump jabs and oodles of pops and muscular contractions. Though technically it’s not the cleanest in execution, the musicality, the energy passed between them, the sweat and believability masks any technical deficiency in the wider cast. With some animal noises on the soundtrack mixed with gorilla vocal imitation by some of the cast, we see a relationship between the krump jab and the gorilla chest pound — but which do we see, gorilla or krump? Violence or expression? Again, Toonga and Da Silva are playing on the edges of our assumptions/stereotypes to intelligent effect. Some of the chorus and crowd scenes were a little wafty, filling air, and were too much of a distraction to the solo/duet focus, but this is a minor [[quibble->M10]].

Sat alongside these statistics and lived realities, this 2017 study — Racial Bias in Judgements of Physical Size and Formidability — published by the American Psychological Association says: “Black men tend to be stereotyped as threatening and, as a result, may be disproportionately targeted by police even when unarmed. Here, we found evidence that biased perceptions of young Black men’s physical size may play a role in this process. The results of seven studies showed that people have a bias to perceive young Black men as bigger (taller, heavier, more muscular) and more physically threatening (stronger, more capable of harm) than young White men.” Toonga has himself received some highly problematic language in previous reviews of _Born To Manifest_: “_Toonga, an imposing presence who wouldn’t look out of place at the Rugby World Cup_”, which again plays into the racist and inflammatory stereotypea that is perpetuated by the majority of the UK MSM. This is only some of the societal context within which this work operates. _Let’s Shine_ attempts to provoke, make us answer questions on our own biases and pose deeper questions about masculinity and power. We are presented with examples of choreographic contagion as one dancer emerges from the bunch, delivers a dance popularised by the video game _Fortnite_ in a swift Tik Tok burst and suddenly all seven are mimicking, summoning up a collective energy. Then it disappears as quickly as it manifested, only to be replaced by another authored by someone else and [[repeated->M11]].

This cycle is a fine demonstration of the difference in the behaviour and psychology of a man on his own — what he would/could do and what he can/can’t do in comparison to the behaviour of a group of men when they’re repeated. In creating _Let’s Shine_ — both the work and the wider programme — JUDT have created an interesting model that is asking socially relevant questions about masculinity using Hip Hop dance theatre. It is a soothing antidote to the growing number of over-produced Hip Hop dance theatre works that feeds us empty calories or fail to adopt a political position. I’m not saying that all work needs to be about something or answering a societal need, but if you’re making a work that is autobiographical, it does not automatically make it about masculinity or femininity. If you’re making something lighter, for entertainment or other purposes, ensure your intention is clear. It feels somewhat ironic that seven out of the eight works on my list were authored by men; is this an (un)conscious positioning, creation and affirmation of their Hip Hop masculinity in light of #MeToo and #TimesUp? Is it a bias and set of active decision making in programming by venues to present men over women? Yes. Yes it is. We know this is a consistent problem across the wider dance industry, including the work Sadler’s Wells and Breakin’ Convention choose to present and [[tour->M12]].

However, I see few attempts, inquiries or acknowledgements from the England-based Hip Hop dance theatre scene to engage with different types of masculinities that intersect with communities of disabled, trans, gay or femme artists. There are conversations happening elsewhere around Hip Hop and masculinity including the two Minnesotan rappers Kyle ‘Guante’ Tran Myhre and Tony The Scribe and their nine-episode debut podcast season of What’s Good, Man? which self describes as ‘a podcast on men, masculinity, and culture. Featuring two hosts who sharpened their analyses in the worlds of Hip Hop, cultural organizing, and movement-building, it’s also a response to a specific call: men need to speak up more about issues like consent, gender violence, and sexism, especially with other men.’ What England-based artists are currently dealing with is a very narrow masculinity; if they’d even seen each other’s work they could have had an active dialogue or hosted a wider discussion around their thoughts on masculinity and its relationship to [[Hip Hop ->M13]].

That was A LOT of thoughts on masculinity. There is a lot of it going round. How about something that isn't that at [[all->AH1]]? Or Find a new route through from the [[top->Repeat1]]

“_Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes_.” Theodore Dreiser Hamilton and Macindoe are human gnomons casting shadows and carving air as they latch on to one of the many polyrhythms created by the orchestra. The primary choreographic language employed is popping (sometimes known as the robot dance), building staccato patterns through the isolation of muscles in their arms, neck and torso. The style ensures a crisp, cool and technically impressive feat yet Macindoe does not match Hamilton’s skill. The difference is clear and Macindoe is not able to execute and pop as the softness of a contemporary training blunts the edges required. As Hamilton slowly breaks the circle of bots, we see his b-boy history as he softly baby freezes over the boundary of bots, shifting his weight as he meets the floor and begins to reconfigure them into a new formation. With a series of miniature robotic henges casting dawn-length shadows across the stage we began to see and hear a transformation. There is a delicacy in play in the second section — a balance between sound, motion, the sound of motion and the motion of sound. The sonic palette has shifted too as miniature trays, blocks and alternative materials are placed underneath the pencils and as they strike down alternative tones reverberate and the monochromatic drum march has been replaced with a textured [[soundscape->AH3]].

“_Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music_.” Rabindranath Tagore Time is often foregrounded; from the unfinished and rewound repeated movements glitching in our eyes, to the complex musical time signatures pulsing in our ears — we know that time exists but are unsure at which speed it is being played out. This invisibility is remembered at the end as the dancers leak off stage and the audience is serenaded for the last five minutes by the orchestra. Even though the bodies are no longer present, the interweaving of choreography and composition ensures a physical residue in the audience memory. As the tones shift I see their bodies echo in the space, popping, patterning and replaying movement sequences that were present a few moments before. There were dozens of moments of virtuosity: from an eyes-closed verbal recall of a numeric pattern at Mach 1 making them sound like a pair of Australian market traders bamboozling the audience’s ears, to a tight hand sandwich duet at close proximity as they pivot and twist, using their palms as records moving in and out of a jukebox at speed. As an audience we’ve been internally tightened and our gears wound watching these feats without breathing or shuffling in the rich and sparse landscape Hamilton and Macindoe have created. Meeting is a quietly rich encounter between man, machine, motion and sound that rewards your attention with mesmeric human feats and meditative sonic [[patterns->AH4]].

OK. I feel like I've been in here for days. What time is it? Time for the final [[thoughts->CONC1]]? Or Are you an completionist? Have you seen and read everything? Have you been counting? 25 works? How many have you got? Ready to go back to the start to try a different [[path->Repeat1]]?

Marked in repetitive chapters, we see the rhythm of time in the familial home, life played out in silent plates for breakfast, crumpled table mats for dinner and strangled conversation before bed; to see the chasm develop between the desire for proximity in Oura-Gnao and the emotional distance of Isaac-Stuart is painful. There is something in _Father Figurine_ that has echoes of a Pinter and Beckett sensibility; not in the language or writing but in the way we are presented with a menace and memory whilst anchored in their world replete with pauses, awkward beats and ghost lives repeated. The most successful moments come when the two characters retire to their rooms at night; visited by the paroxysms of trauma, they assume a yoga-like boat pose that teeters and convulses in sharp, unsettled isolations. Isaac-Stuart’s use of popping and animation as choreographic languages on the floor and standing is both fitting (in the isolation of his body/mind in the work) and delicious. The physical language and monosyllabic dialogue has a clarity that negates the need for the monologues; when each character burps these uncharacteristically poetic soliloquies it completely jars with the emotional investment and integrity that has been so carefully built up until this [[point->BP3]].

The writing feels a little indulgent and out of place - not to say it’s not eloquent, but it’s totally ill-fitting. Likewise, the inclusion in the soundtrack of quotes and testimonies from other men who are encountering mental health issues feels a little forced and obvious. With Stephen Brown and Derek Mok credited for the choreography, it was interesting to hear in the post-show conversation that Brown and Mok were responsible for the original version presented at Resolution 2018 (which was essentially the last 20 minutes of the current version) and have had no input since. It has been Isaac-Stuart and Ouro-Gnao who have built backwards from that point and harvested a movement language from the original source; it feels like they should both have a credit for the work they’ve done on extrapolating the choreographic world. _Father Figurine_ feels closer to a family portrait than a work that questions the stigma around mental health; it’s a good addition to the number of other one/two person Hip Hop theatre works currently on tour, like _Elephant in the Room_ by Lanre Malaolu and _Born to Manifest_ by Joseph Toonga, that are looking at mental health, lived experiences and the representation of Black male relationships. “_Nobody wins when the family feuds_.” Jay [[Z->BP4]]

We could talk about the [[_Elephant in the Room_->LM1]] if you wanted. Or You could look at isolation through a different [[lens...->FFTN1.1]] Or Masculinity. That's very popular at the [[moment->M1]].

How do you translate a culture? _West Side Story_ was a concept musical based on _Romeo and Juliet_ that Jerome Robbins proposed to Leonard Bernstein in January 1949. It took another six years before playwright Arthur Laurents came up with the idea of two teenage gangs as the warring factions, one of them Puerto Rican, the other self-styled Americans. In November of the same year Stephen Sondheim joined the project as a lyricist and in August 1957 the stage version of _West Side Story_ premiered in Washington D.C., with the film version released in October 1961. Successful translations take time to gestate, brew, fade and re-shape. Feuding rivalries and gang culture are older than Shakespeare and it is within the embrace of _West Side Story_ via the 90’s Sega Megadrive video game Streets of Rage that NUE Dance Company’s _Bang! To The Heart_ resides. Heralding from Italy and presenting in the main space at ZOO Venues for Edinburgh Fringe 2016, _Bang! To The Heart_ offers the audience a large-scale, 60-minute work with 10 dancers, a complex set, multiple projections and an original soundtrack. The narrative premise is a replica of West Side Story – we have the Angels (Sharks) vs Zombies (Jets) fighting for supremacy; a gang member falls for a girl, loses the respect of his allies and has to make a decision whether to follow his heart or go back to his brothers. However, it is here that the similarities end as it becomes a graffiti cartoon fuelled with parkour bounding and a late night riot of fresh B-Bou skills and facial [[exaggeration->Bang2]].

With a number of distracting side panel screens projecting fluorescent animations of bodies glitching through an urban cityscape, the main focus lands on two large, reversible, wheeled walls that offer retractable ledges, staircases and scaffolding that allow the dancers to climb, bounce and launch themselves with consistent frequency. Rattling from scene to scene, face-off to face-off, the bboying is some of the best I’ve seen; extreme flexibility and strength sees crazy hollow backs, air flares and a whole suitcase of other power moves that wouldn’t be out of place at the B-Boy championships. It is physically impressive and the stamina is unrelenting; even in the last ten minutes with glistening brows none of the moves lose their edge. However, it isn’t all macho posturing. There are three female dancers who’s role is little more than moving wallpaper and street dance sirens calling to the B-Boys with their bodies; they are lifted and thrown around with brute force; without safe practice, damage to their bodies looks likely. Just because the B-Boys are at ease pushing the limits of their own physicality they should not jeopardise the safety of others within the company. With so much technical skill in the cast and heavy investment in production values, the company would benefit from a dramaturgical hand, otherwise Bang! To The Heart will fill its 22:20 kitsch slot and remain a slavish West Side Story imitation with lashings of B-Boy [[talent->ED1]]. Or If this sounds nightmarish and you're not willing to risk other fringe possibilities, I'd go [[here->DT1]].

Want some more Hip Hop from Edinburgh Fringe 2016? You could try [[this->AW1]] or [[this->LD1]]

In the UK there are a number of artists who make dance/theatre that uses Hip Hop as their primary movement language whilst mixing other styles and influences; Vicki Igbokwe, Botis Seva, Emma Jayne Park and Robby Graham — a by no means an exhaustive list — are artists who are sensitive to the origins of Hip Hop, offer ambitious narratives for their audiences to engage with and have been pursuing theatrical presentations of their work for the last decade or more. How do you dilute a culture? _Smother_ by 201 Dance Company returned to the Edinburgh Fringe in August 2016 after a successful run last year that saw the company hoovering up a number of 4-star and 5-star reviews from EdFest Magazine, Broadway Baby and Scotsgay. Housed on the main stage at Zoo, the company of seven dancers explores the story of two men’s broken encounter whilst touching on the themes of addiction, obsession and [[commitment->AW2]].

Skal is a twenty-five minute work exploring macho culture within hip hop by the Swedish duo of Pontus Linder and Olov Ylinenpää (aka Lin Dylin). Dance Base presented _Skal_ as part of Nord Dance, its festival of Scandinavian work, in November 2015 which is where I first saw it. After a second viewing I notice the visibility of child-like play and a depth of nostalgia that permeates the work. Linder and Ylinenpää start upstage seated on a picnic rug decorated with plants, records, soft furnishings and a slide projector. They oscillate between this quiet reflective space (which leaves the audience with little spectacle but the mundane re-arrangement of records or the watering of a plant) and the stage — the place where they play. Choreographically they’re reconfiguring windmills, belly swipes and air flares, slowing them down so we’re able to dissect them: we see battle tricks in duet and solo form broken down to reveal when momentum gathers and where delicate weight shifts take [[place->LD2]].

201 presents homosexual relationships in Hip Hop as sensitive territory but if you consider the history of Hip Hop and the funk styles of waacking, voguing and the balls that emerged in the late 70s and continue today there has been consistent and active communities within Hip Hop that are sensitive about their sexuality. These communities originally kept themselves underground because of the intolerance of others to accept different types of bodies and beliefs; inside and outside Hip Hop the prejudices they encountered are still alive today. Artistic director, choreographer and dancer Andrea Walker is to be applauded for attempting to explore this area as few in the UK have done so to date. However, for over 55 minutes we are presented with a number of low-quality commercial street dance routines — truncated to match the length of a pre-existing musical tracks — interspersed with faux, angsty dacting (dance acting). The routines are loose, unsymmetrical and there is an inconsistency across the dancers in terms of who is and is not able to hit the beat or understand the musical texture and nuance required. The dacting sections bear no relationship to the routines (which repeat motifs and material multiple times) and the physical encounters offer a uni-dimensional representation of relationships that are angry, promiscuous and unsubtle. Walker is noticeably the weakest dancer; he gives himself a lead role, often front and centre of the arrow formation, yet his execution has little attack and is always a beat behind. Smother lacks emotional subtlety, historical awareness and presents a series of shallow sub-standard choreographies that could be found in an improvers street dance class at [[Pineapple->AW3]].

BalletBoyz, Matthew Bourne, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Jonzi D, Michael Hulls, Michael Keegan-Dolan, Akram Khan, Russell Maliphant, Wayne McGregor, Nitin Sawhney, Hofesh Shechter, Christopher Wheeldon and <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Sharon Eyal</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Crystal Pite</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Kate Prince</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Jasmin Vardimon</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Sylvie Guillem</div> 5/16 are women. 31.25% are women. That is not an equitable ratio. But it is a choice that Sadler's Wells have made. Anyway, back to the shell company that is Breakin' [[Convention->Thought 13]].

No, it's gone. We might come back to the this later when the debate widens to include reform and [[abolition...->Thought 45]]

We go [[again...->Thought 66]]

In a form that rewards either dizzying speed or precision freezes, Skal attempts to adapt the original into an alternative choreographic language; imagine B-Boys in treacle. As two performers who are still active on the battle scene, Linder and Ylinenpää represent different sides of the bboy coin; Linder holds his footwork in high esteem, stylishly tinkering at the edges of the melodies whilst Ylinenpää is all power moves and physical prowess. There’s a comfort and unspoken solitude between them on stage and this settles in between the gaps of performance. When they return to the rug and strike up the slide projector we see a series of kaleidoscopic amorphous shapes oozing and lolling around. Silence and space are a rare presence in the hip hop world and consequently these 25 minutes feel unusual, which I appreciate; _Skal_ is a quiet study of the B-Boy and Lin Dylin happily inverts the tropes that are usually associated with it to create a balanced and playful [[simplicity->LD3]].

A little bit more breaking for [[you->AH1]]. Or How about something a little more emotional, something that attempts to break your [[heart->CR1]]?

I __really__ did not get on with _Smother_; it felt like a shallow portrayl and somewhat problematic. How about we go back to start? Find a whole different route? Clean your [[eyes->Repeat1]]. Or Are you a bit of a hate watcher? You want something else that is at the other end of the [[see-saw->BB1]].

OK. I feel like I've been in here for days. What time is it? Time for the final [[spice->CONC1]]? Or Are you an completionist? Have you seen and read everything? Have you been counting? 25 works? How many have you got? Ready to go back to the start to try a different [[path->Repeat1]]?

OK. We're back. Let's just remember some things that are worth remembering. Sadler's Wells received £630,000 on top of their regular £12 million from Arts Council England for Breakin' Convention in June 2019. Women at Sadler's Wells earn 91p for every £1 that men earn when comparing median hourly wages. When comparing mean hourly wages, women’s mean hourly wage at Sadler's Wells is 10.8% lower than men’s. Women at Sadler's Wells earn 8p for every £1 that men earn when comparing median bonus pay. Their median bonus pay is 92.2% lower than men's. Breakin' Convention do not pay artists who participate in Open Art Surgery. 31% of the Associate Artists at Sadler's Wells are women. When Breakin' Convention have toured England in the past six years, of the 11 artists they chose to tour, one was a woman. These are all forms of marginalisation, silencing and systems of [[oppression->CONC1.5]].

However, alongside this there is something else very serious happening within Hip Hop music and dance right now. The issue of consent. __Content/Trigger Warning__ The following pages contain allegations and accusations of sexual assault, grooming, molestation, predatory behaviour and more. If you want to bypass this and read about abolition and reformation click [[here ->CONC7]]. If you want to continue click [[here ->CONC3]]. The National Domestic Abuse helpline (for women and children) run by Refuge is free to call and available 24 hours a day: __0808 2000 247__ If you’re experiencing a personal crisis, are unable to cope and need support, text Shout to __85258__. If your life is in imminent danger, call __999__.

Over the past month dozens of women in the UK and internationally have come forward and shared their stories that they too are survivors in Hip Hop; survivors of sexual assault, predatory behaviour, gaslighting, grooming, abuse, toxic masculinity, sexism and rape. The new documentary _On The Record_ recounts the decades-long allegations against Russell Simmons and examines the systems of racial oppression that has allowed Black women’s voices to be silenced. Allegations about the Hip Hop music scene in Minneapolis, about Tik Tok influencers who are part of Hip Hop dance competition scene in Arizona, about Hip Hop choreographers sexually assaulting students in West Toledo, about B-Girls in Germany being sexually harassed and one of the pioneers of Hip Hop allegedly molested young men for decades in the Bronx. That's not to say that women do not attack men, but in the vast majority of cases it is men that attack women. The latest UN Women report estimates that 35% of women worldwide have experienced either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or sexual violence by a non-partner (not including sexual harassment) at some point in their lives. This is to do with silencing and [[power->CONC4]].

So. Before I step out the cypher. I want to say something about reform and abolition. Reform and incremental change do not work. Systems, organisations and institutions do not want to make changes. They do not want to make way for other voices. They preserve the status quo and echo the past. These systems of bureaucracy and power that organisations and institutions hold on to and model are often built on centuries old thinking - centuries which contained slavery, colonialism, patriarchy and problematic statues - which cannot handle the complexity, nuance or technologies that our communities need today. Their relevance and control has [[dissolved->CONC8]].

How has my work benefitted systems and spaces that have erased [[women->CONC12]]?

Hip Hop started as a site of resistance. How can we recapture that and move forward? How can we deep code something different? How can we centre the voices of women? If we start re-imagining then multiple futures will appear in front of us; a future that is decentralsied, a future where Hip Hop can benefit multiple parts of our neighbourhoods, communities and society. We, the whole we, need to do the work for ourselves and our communities. These become our choices. These become our new narratives. They can happen if we can imagine [[them->CONC9]].

If we operate alone our ability to initiate change is limited. There is little value in removing leaves, branches and slashing at the stump – we need to go to the root. We cannot alleviate the symptoms if we’re ignoring the main cause. If we're able to harness a collective energy and focus a light onto the depths of the systems and institutions, then people can begin to imagine different possibilities for Hip Hop. The spaces of power that we have stood in are disorienting; they gaslight, they demand performative gratitude and they keep their power at the centre. There are questions that we need to ask ourselves; questions like: What is our complicity in the structures that we want to change? And Why do we want to be in these [[spaces->CONC10]]?

Why does Hip Hop dance theatre want to exist within a White, patriarchal, capitalist [[infrastructure->CONC11]]?

Is it time to de-fund our attention from these [[organisations->CONC13]]?

Everything we need is already within our [[communities->CONC13.5]].

So. That's [[it->CONC15]].

You know that thing I said [[earlier...->CONC1.6]]

You said a few things [[earlier...->CONC1.8]]

I asked... What can Breakin' Convention do better? How can they be a better ally to the Hip Hop dance theatre community? Where should they be investing their [[resources->1.8.1]]?

I'm feeling generous; so I'm going to offer an answer to those [[questions->1.9.1]].

When Breakin' Convention tours England again, it should: [after 4 seconds] tour with three works authored and performed by women [after 6 seconds] and [after 8 seconds] those three works should be chosen by [[women->1.9.2]] who are paid to do that job.

If we centre women, if we invest in women, we will create leaderfull communities that work for more than the heterosexual, White, cisgender able bodied man. For too long societal structures across architecture, law, medicine, health, care and justice have been built to silence and prevent women from mobilising. These are global systemic issues that have been built and maintained for centuries; they filter down, through and into our society and manifest in our cultural industries like the behaviours and attitudes I've [[mentioned->CONC2]].

Yes. I remember [[now->1.9]].

Over this past month there have been many women who are speaking, taking action, supporting and writing about this in public and private; _Yami 'Rowdy' Lofvenberg_, _Saskia Horton_, _Dessa_, _Haley McCallum_, _Elise Ayotunde Cullen_, _B-Girl Jilou_, _Emma Houston_ and _Julia Cheng_ are just some of those names. The voices of women and survivors should be at the centre of this. Men need to listen, to move over, divest power, educate themselves and their peers whilst dismantling the systems of inequality that they have [[built->CONC7]].

That's what I have to [[say->CONC16]].

This is an invitation. This is an invitation to dream. This is an invitation to dream about a future. This is an invitation to dream about a future for Hip Hop. This is an invitation to dream about a future for Hip Hop dance. Who's ready to dream?

Let me repeat that. Everything we need is already within our [[communities->CONC14]].

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Any subtlety is left in the pantry. Tony Adigun has choreographed a number of excellent outdoor works for Avant Garde (Taxi & Romeo & Juliet) which have delivered greater complexity, signature choreography and an attention to musicality; with a severe edit there is potential in Table Manners but the audible sighs around me left my choreographic stomach rumbling. You could follow a path towards Duwane [[Taylor...->DT1]] Or Another work from GDIF 2017 by a former Avant Garde Dance [[performer...->FFTN1]]

This is a wider issue that a lot of Hip Hop dance artists are facing: how to make the shift from making micro works to a full evening. There is a gap that needs filling around the 25-30 minute work that could be presented in a double bill that would enable that growth, choreographic expansion and depth of idea to be tested. Often the ego and the ambition says yes, I can make a full-length work, but would an architect make the step from designing a conservatory to building an entire town? Perhaps Oloyade can take comfort in what Kurt Vonnegutonce wrote: “_And a step backward, after making a wrong turn, is a step in the right direction_.” How about a 20-30 minute work that could be presented in a double bill? You could have [[this->A4A1]], [[this->A4A2]] or [[this->A4A3]]? Or We need to start again. That was not [[good->Repeat1]].