The Springback Assembly 2023 took place in Rovereto, Italy, where a conscious, strategic decision to foreground arts and culture post-war led to the construction of the huge, world-class MART Museum in 2002. Assembly curator and Springback writer Gaia Clotilde Chernetich made use of this setting to frame a discussion about presenting dance in museum or gallery contexts, using glimpses of a project she’d produced with artist Daniele Ninarello as a catalyst.

There were two intertwining elements of the work Nobody Nobody Nobody that provided a particularly rich seam for consideration: it was informed by the autobiographical trauma of the artist and it had originally been presented at MART as both a durational and a conventionally timed performance event.

Interesting questions which had arisen in a previous Assembly surfaced here: to what degree is it safe or appropriate to plumb lived experience of trauma to create art? Can/should audiences be protected from trauma through the use of trigger warnings or other types of pre-performance information-giving? In a museum or gallery context, these questions are slightly re-framed: although presenting dance in civic spaces arguably extends accessibility by inviting audiences to wander in and ‘stumble upon’ performance, it also potentially removes agency to decide whether or not to watch. Of course, it is possible to walk on by, but why would you without a warning?

In UK theatres trigger warnings are increasingly the norm, developed alongside a broader and more explicit dialogue around mental health safeguarding, occasionally with additional support from charities or specialists. In museum or gallery settings, this is not the case. But does it even matter? After all, being ‘triggered’ is itself a phenomenon that some might dismiss, aligning it with the ‘snowflake’ generation: hyper-sensitive, easily offended or hurt.

Certainly, Springback writers traveling to festivals across Europe have experienced dance events featuring extreme content without warnings, and these have elicited strong, painful reactions, deeply felt. But if art-makers are encouraged to mine their autobiographical pain in the name of creating ‘impactful’ or ‘authentic’ artwork with particular ‘resonance’ for audiences, is it inevitable that elements of trauma will be felt? I use the language of the funding bodies here deliberately. But I ask: is good art inherently triggering?