Let me start with a confession: I love a good interdisciplinary performance. Dance with live music, spoken word, film, singing? I’m in. But after this year’s Spring Forward festival, one thing stuck in my head more than anything else: text in dance. More specifically, how tricky it is to get it right.

Several works in the programme combined spoken word and movement. Some used it beautifully. Others… let’s just say I found myself thinking, does every idea need to be verbalised?

Of course, spoken word has enormous potential in a dance context. When done well, it can add conceptual depth, emotional nuance, or simply texture. Especially when dealing with complex topics like identity, social injustice, or work culture, text can anchor movement in meaning, offering clarity in ways the body may struggle to do alone. But here’s the catch: dance also speaks. Its strength lies precisely in what isn’t said – what’s felt, imagined, and interpreted. It doesn’t always need to be translated.

At several moments during Spring Forward, I felt that dance and text were not in dialogue, but in competition. Rather than layering meaning, text spelt it out. Movement was illustrative and explanatory, a supporting act to didactic monologues that closed off space for interpretation. The result? A kind of stop-and-go rhythm: movement scene, verbal translation, new scene, more explanation. It was like watching someone describe a painting while standing in front of it.

The irony is – this rarely helps. If anything, it distances the audience. We’re not invited into a world; we’re told what it means. We don’t get to feel; we’re asked to understand. Intellectually. Logically. As if imagination were optional.

This ‘schooling’ tendency broke the spell in several otherwise promising works. Instead of engaging with the piece emotionally or imaginatively, I found myself constantly catching up with what I was supposed to be thinking or feeling. And that’s exhausting.

But then came Solène Weinachter with AFTER ALL.

Her piece was a masterclass in integrating text and dance. A playful, tender, and disarmingly direct reflection on death, AFTER ALL explored human relationships to endings through imagined funeral rituals, storytelling, and movement. In one scene, Weinachter recalled her uncle Bob’s funeral, during which her father asked her to dance. And so she did: a sinuous solo, performed not for us, but for Bob. The movement completed Weinachter’s story by making it slightly absurd, combining two elements that rarely coexist: a contemporary dance sequence peppered with deep pliés and performative facial expressions, and the setting of a small crematorium with barely enough room to move.

Weinachter kept chatting throughout her performance. Yet her voice didn’t explain what she was doing – it haunted it. She didn’t use words to justify her choreographic choices; but to complicate the atmosphere she had created. There was mystery. There was trust.

I never questioned which medium spoke louder – both were used to their fullest potential. That’s the key: dance and text can absolutely coexist – but they have to respect each other. You can’t just bolt one onto the other and hope for synergy. It has to be crafted.

At the other end of the spectrum, Camelia Neagoe’s Work in Progress demonstrated just how easily that balance can shift. After opening with a partnering duet, the piece slowly transitioned into performers listing their job descriptions, daily routines, and dreams of promotion. While the text they delivered described their feelings of frustration and stagnation, the movement – sharp gestures and mimed tasks – physically reiterated the corporate drudgery they had just articulated. Rather than complicating the meaning, the dance underlined it. The choreography, though skilful, felt like a visual echo of what had already been said. I couldn’t help but wonder: if you’ve already told us the story, what’s left for the body to do?

The tension between explanation and expression I felt at Spring Forward opens a wider conversation: these days, do we not trust movement to carry meaning? Do we not trust audiences to sit with ambiguity?

In my opinion, dance doesn’t need to be ‘understood’. It doesn’t need subtitles. Its beauty lies in its openness – its ability to mean different things to different people. That’s not a flaw; it’s a feature. Text, when added, should expand those possibilities – not reduce them.

So, what do I hope for future editions of Spring Forward (or any festival, really)? More risk. More mystery. More creators who dare to leave things unsaid. Who use text not as a map, but as a shadow. Who trust audiences not to need a manual to feel something real. Because, ultimately, dance doesn’t need to talk to be heard.