The dance sector is fondly referred to as an active ecosystem by those that worm within it. The Lyon Biennale even used this term themselves to describe the Forum programme as a nourishing space for dialogue and exchange that seeps beyond Eurocentrism. Following this green theme, it was therefore not so unfamiliar an idea when, nestled within the rich (Be)coming Ecosomatics dialogue, philosopher and dancer Emma Bigé referred to bodies as ‘compost’ – sites for movements that are not our own.
Through this earthy metaphor, Bigé conjured up the ecofeminist Donna Haraway and her delightfully mucky theory of ‘compost humanism’ – looking towards a posthumus world (no, not the food – rather a reference to the etymological root of the word as ‘top soil’). Haraway, a self-proclaimed ‘compostist’, suggests that we learn from rich, complex and breathing piles of mulch, oozing with lifeforms of varying scales, in order to be more aware of our entangled existence. In a posthumus world, each movement we do is a motion for something else to happen. We are accountable, hospitable and interconnected.
In the context of the Forum dialogue between Bigé and Thomas F. DeFrantz, and the wider discourse around performance, theories of compost remind us that the body is always in a state of motion on a nanoscale. Blood rushing through veins, bacteria multiplying in our gut, small shifts of weight; these composting motions remind us that nothing is ever static, and no situation is ever neutral. Further still, by evoking compost Bigé encourages us to think that when we act within the dance sector – whether performing, curating or indeed writing – we must be conscious that our actions can (and should) be ones of mutual nourishment; a distribution of nutrients from which the wider field can continue to develop.
Where does all this muddy thought leave us when thinking about dance, public programs and discursive avenues for choreographic thought? With Bigé and Haraway on my side, I wanted to crack open the compost bin to see how far these mulchy ideas might spread. A hive of bustling bodies, fermenting ideas and transformative performances, the Forum itself can be considered as a form of compost – a hypothesis through which I worm and wriggle in the mixture of thoughts secreted below…
Forum Compost is… something we cannot always understand
How many of us know what might be happening in our compost heap? In DeFrantz’s performance lecture Sweet Discomfort he assures us that the Black corporeality within dance and curatorial practices is something that white curators, writers, choreographers and more ‘have to be willing not to know’.
Sometimes within the performance sector-mulch there will be movements that are essential yet attend to another plant or critter. It is in these moments that we must learn to listen, accept, and create space for such a movement to happen.
Forum Compost is… hospitable and collaborative
Throughout the Forum we were encouraged to chew on the overarching theme of hospitality, and as such to consider and adopt roles of host and hosted (guest). However, it was not long until these roles became pleasantly confused. Thrust into a programme that takes you from watching performance, to participating in a movement workshop, to eating alongside visiting artists, the Forum forces us to ask: are we worms or are we soil? Are we the shit or the flower that is growing? Are we hosting or hosted? This feels intentional. Through the lens of compost theory, hospitality is not a transaction between two distinct parties, rather a constant exchange with changing roles.
Forum Compost is… a movement toward the future
Compost holds traces of past materials, while transforming them towards the growth of a new plant – a plant that can only grow if this past is digested. Sharing his practice of generating repetitive and collectively foraged movement motifs, Fangas Nayaw’s workshop Basic Punk Law dealt with the creation of fictionalised and future-oriented Indigenous laws whilst honouring tradition. What transpired was a joyous biosphere of bodies swirling around each other; a blend of different backgrounds and traditions that came out in spontaneous gestures picked up by others and transformed into a unified experience.
Forum Compost is… a learning process
Speaking to my green-fingered companions, I’ve learned that the compost heap manifests through a manner of mistakes. Further still, death and degradation is just as essential a process in the production of fertile ground; the digestion and transformation of matter that ‘doesn’t work’. In a similar way, the Forum was delivered in its embryonic form this year – a debut that will be reflected on and adapted. Panel talks on topics like curatorial decision-making or the future of dance in an endangered environment were handled too broadly, and cut short before reaching any genuine consensus. But when fertile ideas need work there is no need to throw the entire pile out. Instead, save the fruitful materials, dispose of the rest, and continue to feed the mass until it is once again usable.
While sometimes muddy, difficult and in need of a gentle reshuffling, I’d prescribe a dose of rich Forum compost as a transformative fertiliser to other performance festivals that might be looking to nourish their cultural offering.