I’m comfortably sitting in yet another red chair, looking straight ahead – and I see two buttocks winking at me from a peek of Alen Nsambu’s (NEON BEIGE) jean shorts. It’s then that I realise what I have been missing from the first four shows I’ve seen this morning… risk! Whether physical, social, technical, dramaturgical or personal – why do so many of the works feel safe and ultimately seem to blend together? 

The Aerowaves Spring Forward 2025 festival flaunts impressive numbers: 802 video applications by artists, 53 dance professionals whittling them down to 21 works. The fact that the selection process is fairly democratic is noteworthy. I appreciate that the platform is open for so many and can truly serve as a springboard for emerging dance artists. At the same time, should art be voted upon like politics? Isn’t art supposed to bend the rules and cross borders? I wonder whether through this process many of the more ‘risky’, uncomfortable, yet mind-boggling pieces are omitted – the ones meant to divide opinion and stir debate. 

The platform is uncurated, and the programme is rapid and intense: seven shows a day, 21 in total – making it hard not to feel like a three-day-long Eurovision contest. The festival is targeted at a professional audience, who are expected to imagine the contexts in which each work ‘should’ be performed. This stands in contrast to classical theatre stages, where the performers are elevated and distant, and the viewers nestle into comfortable chairs. These three days are demanding, both for the artists and the audience. After all, most performances are not created for a festival framework; they’re not designed to compete with each other or be seen in a line. 

This setup gave some works a clear advantage. For example, Solène Weinachter’s AFTER ALL fit beautifully in the festival frame, brilliantly and seamlessly blending wit and sorrow, art and entertainment. The crowd of 300 felt included in the multiple funerals we were ‘lucky’ enough to be part of. Even if the piece was perhaps a touch too polished, I can imagine it works wonders on tour, engaging audiences all around.

But back to the risk… were there any? Well, Lebanese artist Charlie Khalil Prince’s the body symphonic was a breath of fresh air that took risks – in both subject matter and format. The piece resisted entertaining the audience in the traditional sense: just as music or dance scenes became enjoyable, they were cut short, denying us full immersion. It foregrounds the experience of minorities who constantly have to juggle between different values, rules and in this case stage presences. Prince seems to have found a loophole in the system and is skilfully pulling at it from within.

Prince was not entirely alone in this spirit of risk-taking. Take Mercedes máis eu by Janet Novas, which emphasised two performers’ presence and intriguingly left the structure of the piece unpolished. Or Never ALLone by Croatian choreographer Matea Bilosnić, whose onstage partner was a friendly, transparent, box-shaped robot – together they narrated and visualised their thought process over six days. Even though the piece’s themes and meaning largely flew over my head, something about its constant twists and turns still lingers with me a week later. 

While similarly intense experiences can be found at contemporary art biennials or fairs, viewers there have more autonomy – they can move at their own pace, skip over what doesn’t interest them, and navigate in smaller groups. In contrast, a theatre festival places everyone into the same space and time. After each show, you could almost feel in the air the urge to release all the emotions, to talk it out. And since most audience members know each other, small talk flows easily, with the last performance often serving as the perfect conversation starter. As a result, there can be more critique circulating than necessary.

Of course, not all art has to be provocative. But when a performer has something at stake on stage, the encounter with the audience has the potential to become more than just a display of their talents. It’s as if we, as the audience, are allowed to peek into the artist’s questions, concerns and inspirations. In the end, an abiding question remains: ‘Should the contemporary dance stage really become a conventional safe space – one where the mind can wander anywhere, without risk of missing anything?’