Dancing Class: Aletta Collins OBE, F**k Art Let's Dance
Speaker Hi, I'm Laura. Hi, I'm Rachel and this is the Dancing Class podcast made possible by the British Academy, Leverhulme Small Research Grant Fund, and Leeds Beckett University. In this series, we invite dance industry professionals from working class backgrounds in the UK to talk about their experience of dance education and their careers. We're interested in discussing the ways in which dance can be a vehicle for class mobility in the UK, and contribute to discourses around levelling up. This series also researches the role of dance as a catalyst for social and economic progress. Some of our discussions take place while dancing and are recorded with spatial sound. This creates an immersive effect and the best listening experiences via the use of headphones. These recordings will be labelled as binaural. We hope that you enjoy the series. Thanks for tuning in. Welcome, Aletta Collins. Thank you. Thanks for joining us on our Dancing Class podcast. Yeah. Coming up to Leeds on a soggy day. Yes. It's quite wet out there. Yeah. It's very nice to be here. And it's nice and cozy in here. Yeah. I've never done a podcast before, so it's all very exciting. Thanks for allowing us to be your first podcast. Yeah. Um, so it's not your first time in Leeds though, is it? Certainly not. I spent a lot of time in Leeds. Um, what's your connection with Leeds or connections? I think the first time I ever worked on an opera was here in Leeds. Actually, it was further back than that. Before that, when I was in London. Contemporary Dance Theatre. Yep. We always toured to Leeds Grand of course, and my very first performance as a member of the company was at the Leeds Grand. Oh really? What piece was that? That was Jonathan Lunn's piece Doppelganger. That was a duet for myself and Darshan Singh Bhullar. And that was my first performance. Wow. Was that your debut in London Contemporary Dance Theatre in Leeds? In Leeds. When was that Aletta? Do you remember? Oh. Um. Ballpark. Somewhere about eighty seven. Yeah, yeah, about eighty seven, probably. Okay. And then I remember coming up to work with Phoenix. Yep. And it was still an all male company, right? Oh, of course. Yes. And I was only the second woman to work with them. The first was Jane Dudley, and there were not going to muck about with Jane Dudley. So I was slightly like, you know, I was like the supply teacher. They they they tried. Did they try mucking about with you? They did a bit. Yeah. Um what piece was that. That was called Gang of Five. Oh yeah. Of course. And that went on. They toured it but they used to be. Oh gosh. What's that big choreographic competition Bagnolet in France. Yes. Yeah. Um and I don't know if this is still the case, but they would, you could, you could enter it as a choreographer, but also each country entered a piece from the UK, a bit like from Eurovision Song Contest, isn't it? And I think it was supposed to have been Sue Davies was going to be the British entry and for some reason that couldn't happen. Okay, so they asked Phoenix. Mhm. Brilliant. So we went and, um, we won. And that was the first that was, um, I met Merce Cunningham because he was the head judge. Oh my God, are you kidding me? And that was very that was fantastic. How old were you when that happened? Twenty two or three? No. So this was really early in your kind of choreographic career? Yeah. I mean, I, I was I went to The Place when I was sixteen. Right. And I did a three year course, but I. That took me four years because I broke my foot in the first year. So I had to go back and do my first year again. And then we founded the fourth year performance 4D. 4D so that was five years. So. Twenty one. Yes, I'd probably have probably about. Twenty two. Twenty three and is this around the time you choreographed Stand By Your Man? Yes, that was my final choreographic piece. You know how you have your end of year show, which any year was allowed to create a piece for whether they were chosen to be in the final I see show showcase. Yeah, yeah. Um, but they always tried, I think, to include as many third year pieces because it was your final. Yeah, year, yeah. And so Stand By Your Man was my final year piece. So was that your sort of first piece? Well, in some ways, but in other ways not. I remember when I started at the Young Place, which was Saturday School. Yeah. Mornings. Um, I spent two years making a dance piece. Wow. And our teacher thought, I mean, I think I had about nine people in and was a proper sort of twenty minute dance piece. And, uh, were you quite serious about it as well? Oh, very serious, very serious. I mean, you could probably speak to Isabel Mortimer or Etta Murfitt or Sasha Roubicek, and all of these people were in it, and they'd probably say, never again. Yeah. Um and our, the lady who ran it was a woman called Iris. No. Before her was Janet Wilkes. Oh I remember. Yeah. And Janet said, well, look, it would be a real shame not to show this piece after you spent two years making it, because you can only do half an hour each Saturday rehearsing. Um, and she said, but we'll if we want to go, there's. She said, there's a youth festival in Scotland actually St Andrew's right at the top, but we would need some money for it because you know, there's ten of you and Janet. Um and so I didn't really think much of it when she said, okay, so next Saturday we'd like, um, we're going to show, um, two people your dance piece. Mhm. Okay. And we're going to do it in the Theatre. I was like, oh, wow, great. So we're into the, you know, the Theatre. Yeah. Yeah. And, um, these two men arrived and one of the men was very, very tall with great big sticks. Yeah. And the other was smaller. And it was Robin Howard and Bob Cohan, of course. And they sat there and watched this dance piece. And then afterwards they said, yes, we think you should go to Scotland. Brilliant. And we're going to give you two hundred pounds. And off they went. Off they went. Well we went to Scotland, we performed the piece. It was all great. And um I never really saw Robin or Bob much after that. And now I'm finally answering your question. Was that my first piece? Then in my second year, I created a piece and Robin Howard came up to me. This was like almost three years after that event. I'm sure he remembered you and said, I'm so pleased to see you again. I wondered where that young woman had gone. Great. So yes, I made that piece and then a few more. And then Stand By Your Man. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Uh, as that final piece. And then that was taken into the London Contemporary Dance Theatre repertory Rep. Mhm. And I think its premiere was the opening ceremony of the Seoul Olympics. No. Yeah. London Contemporary Dance Theatre went out to that and then many, many years later. Um. Val Bourne. Yeah. Um we would, there was creating a big, uh, performance for Val at Sadler's Wells and um, she asked for Stand By Your Man. And so we got all of the original people back to do it, uh, which was fantastic. Yeah. So can we go back in time a little bit further? Yes. Because as you know, this is a podcast talking about working class, um, dancers and makers and producers, etc.. Um, so can we go back to where you were born and why you would identify as a working class person or from a working class background. Can you tell us a little bit about that? Yes. Um, I had an unusual first five years, I think, in that I was born in Bromley, London. Um, my mum was only sixteen and my dad was eighteen. Right. So they were very young. Yeah. Um and they were both just about to start college. Right. My dad went in to see the headmaster. His principal. Mhm. He'd only been there a week at university at a, um. Where was it? Um, he was studying painting at. It'll come back to me in a moment. The Art School. But it was nineteen sixty six, right. He'd just started at Art School. It was. It was the place to be. Yeah. The following week was going to be his eighteenth birthday. Right? And he went to see the principal and said, can I have that week off? And he said, well, Michael, it's your birthday. I mean, you don't need a week to have a birthday. And he said, no, it's just that I've got to get married on my birthday. And I wondered if I could have a couple of days at home. And I think the principal kept him in there for an hour. Yeah. Right. Telling you, Mike, it's nineteen sixty six. You don't need to marry anyone. What are you doing? You're a painter. And he said, well, you haven't met my, um, my future father in law. Oh, right. Okay. I'm getting married. Wow. And so my mom was a couple of years younger. Anyway, so they started at Art School. And, um, I was basically brought up in term time by my grandparents. Okay. Uh, and then in the holidays, my mum and dad would turn up. Yeah. And this was till I was about four or just before starting at school. Yeah, yeah. So. My grandparents, um, on both sides were very sort of physical, uh, workers, like both my grand mothers worked during the war. Yeah. Right. Yeah. Yeah. Uh, in factories. Yeah. And on one side, my gran continued to work at. Funnily enough, it was quite cool actually. I thought at the time. Anyway, the Beatrix Potter factory was making what, um, the sort of chinaware. Right. Okay. You know, those little plates and pots and. Yeah. Um, yeah. So that was. Yeah, we had a lot of Beatrix Potter stuff, I tell you. Anyway, so she worked in a factory. Yeah. And my grandpa during this time, anyway. Because he'd been through the war. Mhm. Um, and he'd done very well at boxing. Wow. Okay. Um, he maintained and mended gym equipment in schools. Right. That was all the wooden stuff, like wooden benches and the climbing frame and the horse and the horse box and the ropes. Yeah. Yeah. So I've got very early memories of going with him in the car and then going round these different schools. Quite physical. Yeah. And fixing all these gymnasium stuff. Yeah. Um, it was great. Yeah. And was this all in London as well? Well, my grandparents that side by then lived down in Somerset. Right. But my grandmother, she was born and brought up in Kings Cross. Right. Okay. In what they would call the buildings, which now we'd call council blocks. They were called the buildings. Yeah. And she went to school in King's Cross. And that's when playgrounds were on the roof of a building. And she said, you know, I've seen kids fall off the roof. And she saw one little boy die. He fell off the roof just at playtime. Yeah. Because that's where the playgrounds were on top of the buildings. So they were very connected to London. But by that stage in their life, they were living down in Somerset. So I'd stay a lot with them or I'd stay with my other grandparents who lived in Stevenage. Right. And my grandpa there, he. It was part of that thing where you could. As a young Irishman. Yeah. Get a job and a house. Right. So he came to work on building Stevenage. Right. Okay. And he was doing all the glazing, all the windows in this new town. Yeah. So the guys would often get the first houses finished and live in them. Live there. Yeah. And then you just build the rest of the town. Okay. So that was. That was my grandpa. That sounds sensible. Yeah, exactly. Yeah. Um, so between. Stevenage. Somerset. Yeah. And then my parents were in London. Yeah. Yeah. Um, that was my early years. And so did your parents have a little flat in London together? They shared out in, uh, I suppose it was um uh, Bromley. Yeah. My mum went to Central Saint Martins, but it wasn't called Central Saint Martins, was it called Central? I think she was at Central. Textiles might have been the name of the course. Something like that. Yeah. And my dad was doing painting. Yeah. Um but yes, they shared a flat. Yeah. Um and when I said to somebody the other day, oh, I'm going to go up to see Laura and Rachel and do this podcast. I think, I think it's about sort of one of the things it's about working class. And this person just laughed and said, well, you're not working class. Your parents were artists. Mhm. Well, and I said, well, why can't you be a working class artist? Indeed. It's sort of the more I sort of thought about it was that it implies that art or being an artist is somehow, um, recreational or something that you can that's only available to the wealthy if you've got the choice. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Um, and one last little story about my, my grandparents was that my grandmother, the one that worked in the, um, Beatrix Potter factory, her mum was because she was, it was always said, well that's where she gets it from. Um her mum was a dancer and she was in the first flying ballet in Paris. Well it's ballet, It's there's a lot of like my, my, my mum would always sort of, you know, roll her eyes and say, hmm, not quite sure. It's, it means the same thing. There was lots of talk about whether my great grandmother was a bit loose and the off to Paris was. And then somehow my, a euphemism for something else. Exactly. And that flying ballet meant something else. And then my grandma would always try and, I don't know, sort of try and make it sound more, you know, respectable, respectable by saying, well, anyway, she met Anna Pavlova and Anna Pavlova's trunks went missing and so my mum gave her a pair of pants. I was like, I don't think that's really making this sound any more respectable. Anyway, that's the only dance in the family. The family history is that. But I'm also curious because of the way you've just described that idea that understanding of the artist. How did your parents come to be studying art at college? Was that via school or had they done art at school? I don't think I've ever really asked them that. I think, I mean, my dad got a scholarship to go to a grammar school. It was still that sort of thing. And he got that and that was very academic. But he obviously. I wonder as well whether nineteen sixty six it was part of an emergence. Yes. Um, Ravensbourne, I think that's the college he went to for painting. Um. Again with my mum, I. I always just took it for granted that it was about the time. Yeah. And that it was the Beatles and it was the Summer of love and Carnaby Street and blah blah. Yeah. And we're doing Art. Yeah. But yeah, it's a good question. I don't know the answer to that. Laura. Sorry. No, it's interesting still. Yeah, yeah. But I think, um, was therefore, would it be fair to assume that art was quite prevalent in your childhood? Yes, I think so. Although there's also a special and unique thing of being brought up by your grandparents. Mhm. Where you're quite spoilt. Yeah. Yeah. And I just, I remember my mum coming to the station to pick me up and her just going, what have they done to you? Yay! And I was like this huge chubby ball in absolute toe to head knitting and really hot like a project. I was a project. I was so big and hot and probably quite itchy. I mean, I even had knitted pants. Everything was knitted. Oh. Um, but yes, the it may not have been very early, but as I was growing up. Yes. Um, my dad got involved in music and he didn't play. But it was the emergence of punk. Yeah. So anyone could do anything. So he became the manager. Right. And, um, I mean, I remember him. Sitting me down and saying, this is very important. You need to listen to this. This is very important. What did he put on? Um. God save the Queen. Yeah. Very loud. Very loudly. Yeah. I don't, I don't really like it. I was like ten. I mean, it was just horrible. What was it? What a noise. Yeah. Um, but it was through the music probably more than anything I grew and it was, it was magazines he'd bring back were used to get a free, uh, single on the front cover or a floppy disk. Yes, exactly. And, uh, that's where I got the music for my first dance piece was off the cover of one of these, and it was this very. Nobody had heard of Laurie Anderson. But I thought this was amazing. And that was the the start, the start of it. Because did you start dancing at school like before the age of ten, were you doing any dancing? I was, but it was the local dance school. Yeah. And I had the most fantastic teacher who I've gone on to choreograph on and know and is a colleague and her name is Irene Hardy. Okay. And she still performs. Um, so anyway, I started at the dance school. Yeah. Um, was that like ballet tap, modern type thing? Just ballet once a week. Right, right. Yeah. Uh, but we did our, we did our. Yeah. I moved on. I'd moved on. I was now in my mum's clothes that she made me. Great. And I remember it was just once a week. Yeah. But I was obviously beginning to get sort of some ideas because Ruth Sealy wanted to do a duet to Tubular Bells. Okay. And even I knew as a twelve year old that was shit. But we've all somehow been there. We've all had the Tubular Bells moment. Mhm. And she wanted us to have different coloured waist elastics. And we danced at the Watford Music Festival and I I didn't really want to do that, but I did a solo. Great. Which frightened a lot of people. And I didn't even realise it was that out there. I had a big black, um, muslin sheet so I could just about see. What over you? Completely over me. It's giving Mary Wigman. Yeah yeah yeah yeah. And I commissioned some music. Oh, wow. From whom? Well, my dad, the band my dad was working with, um, who subsequently gone on and done a lot of dance, uh, were called Wire. And Michael Clark's used Wire a lot. Okay. And, um, Bruce Gilbert, uh, I asked to do some music, and that was just what he gave me was just smashing glass. It was just smashing, crashing glass for like, five minutes. And I danced under this sheet to the smashing glass. Were you a bit cross? Were you expressing? I was, I was angry, I was frustrated, I knew it wasn't fucking Tubular Bells. I knew it wasn't that. Um, and, uh, I think I think I won a prize for something. There's a theme emerging here. Very strange. Something like, you know, creative or something, because they. They were just frightened of it. You could, you could tell it wasn't, uh. Um, but yes, I don't remember going to see a lot of art. Okay. But I remember it was more what came into the house, the music. Yeah. Um, magazines. Yeah. Yeah. And did you grow up? So after you moved back in with your parents, were you sort of growing up in a bit of a working class area, do you think? No. Environment. No, it wasn't really. It was. We were in the flats. okay. But they were very looked down on these flats because, um, it was a quite a posh area of leafy Hertfordshire. Right. Right. So there was a bit of a those flats snobbery. Yeah. Yeah. About them. Yeah. But at the same time we were living in a place called Rickmansworth, which is very nice. Thank you very much for asking. Yeah. Very sort of commuter. Very nice. Yeah. Um. And we were in the flats at the top there and yes, I went to the local school and basically what worked about Rickmansworth was it was on the Metropolitan line. So my mum and dad could be in and out of London the whole time. Yeah. But from the age of Six. I would be totally in charge of myself after school. Oh, gosh. Really? Oh, yeah. Oh. Tell us a little bit. Just get home. And you were there on your own? Yes. Um. Latchkey kid. Yes. And as I got a bit older. And I could reach this big window. Yeah. I really liked the idea of that being like, a big camera and me presenting. I had a show that was all about how you look after yourself. And these are the sorts of things you could cook. These are the sorts of things you could do. I mean, the cooking was only. It was either jacket potatoes or flapjacks. I was very good at both those things. Yeah. And I would have. Yes. Teaching the nation. Teaching the nation. You know what you can do. That's right. When you come home from school. Yeah. So my mum was working. She had lots of different jobs, she either worked, she worked at a photographer's as an assistant, or at this point she was working in Bethnal Green in a architects doing a lots of the presentation boards and things like that for the architects. Um, she, she did lots of different jobs, whereas my dad was managing punk bands. Right, right. Um, so was he on tour quite a bit then? Yes. Yeah. Yeah. And did you ever go to gigs with him? When, I got older. Yes. Right. I can't remember what my first gig would have been, but, Yeah. From about the age of thirteen, I was going to quite a lot of stuff. Um. Lena Lovich. Do you remember her? Yeah, that was an early one. lots of bands that my dad managed. Yeah. Uh, it was quite a few years later actually, that we went to see this new band he was looking after or just started to, um, and he was very, you know, he said it's always the first time they're from round where we live by now they were living in Suffolk, my mum and dad. Anyway, they were seventeen. Mhm. And they were good. And they were called Blur. And uh, yes, my, my dad was their manager. Yeah. Yeah. But anyway, that was a few years down the line at this time, it was more punk. Yeah. And so how did that, um, relate to or not? your sort of school experience? Did you feel exposed to the same kind of stuff, or was it quite different? It was just terrible. Okay. Right. Um, primary school was probably okay. Yeah. Um, but secondary school, I went to a very, very rough comp in a place called Croxley Green. Right. A couple of years after I left, I heard somebody burnt it down. I mean, it was just a horrible place. I managed to play truant for two years and no one found out. No one noticed. You were just doing your flapjacks at home. I was doing my flapjacks. I was watching Pebble Mill. Oh my gosh. Um, I mean, it was this sounds a bit like I'm making up. It's. I'm honestly, this is the truth. One day my English teacher, Mrs. Brown. I don't know why she did this. She gave me this book and she said, Aletta, I think you'll like this book. You should read it. And it was Mr Norris Changes Trains by Christopher Isherwood. Mhm. And that is the book where the character Sally Bowles from cabaret first appears. Oh, interesting. And I went home and started reading this book, and the next day I wanted to carry on reading it. So I didn't go to school. Right. And then I carried on reading it. And then on the third day or fourth day, I'd finished it and thought, oh, I'd like to read another one of those. Mhm. So rather than catch the bus, I went to the library and I did this for two years. Gosh. And just read books and read books for two years. Isherwood. Kerouac, Capote, I mean, anything Beat. I was obsessed with Beat. Catcher in the Rye, Catcher in the Rye, everything by Salinger. Mhm. Um, and it was all very American Beat writing. Yeah. Mhm. Yeah. And I just did that for two years. And then I think by then I discovered that you had to have five or the equivalent of five O-levels. Yeah. To go to dance school. Right. And how did you know about dance school at this point? Because about thirteen, I got it into my head because it was all I knew that I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Mhm. And I didn't see any reason why being five foot one quite round and fully knitted that I wouldn't be a ballet dancer. I mean, I had no good reason not to think you were still doing your classes. Yes, once a week. For an hour? Yeah. So obvious. It was going to be fine. Yeah. So I, I think I must have just beaten my mum into submission to say that I could go to a week's dance Summer School. Summer Schools were quite big then, and I really wanted to go for a whole week. And my dad at this point had an office. I mean, I say that loosely. He was sharing it with the manager of Madness, and they all were stealing the electricity and phones off the place next door. Absolutely brilliant. But it was in Covent Garden, right? And it was above this punk shop called PX where Bryan Ferry would always go. Anyway, there was a pub on the corner and NME was opposite it. Oh, right. Right. Yeah. So every single musician was always in this pub because after you'd been into the NME, you'd go for a drink. Drink? Yeah. So that was my dad's little sort of Bermuda Triangle. Yeah. Was this corner of Covent Garden. Yeah. So it was decided that if she really wanted to do this, like really wanted to do this week. Mhm. My dad would bring me to Covent Garden, to a ballet school called Urdang. Oh, gosh. And I would do this week summer school. And it was going to be brilliant. It was going to be Urdang at Urdang. You do ballet every morning. Yeah. And then you do all these other things, which I didn't know what they were, but it was going to be brilliant. Yeah. So I turned up and for a start, I realised I didn't really look like everybody else. Um. I was wearing footless tights, but with my ballet shoes on bare feet and they were all in proper big pink tights, leotards. I was wearing a t shirt that said Fuck Art Let's Dance, and they Yeah, and they were all in their looks. Yeah. And buns and I, I don't think I'd got through pliés. And I knew this was the worst mistake I'd ever made in my life. But prior to before walking in the door, had you felt confident about doing that? Yeah. Right. But within one exercise I was I just knew this was a disaster. But my dad wasn't going to pick me up till lunchtime. And we had this other class afterwards. And I really didn't want to stay, but I didn't know where I was. Yeah, he was going to take me for a sandwich at lunchtime, so I stayed and two brilliant things happened. One, the teacher said you had to take your ballet shoes off. Oh, I had I had bare feet. Brilliant. Okay. They all had pink tights. They were slipping, sliding everywhere. Bambi on ice. And then you had to sit on the floor. Yeah. I was rolling around this floor. I was like, this is just the best thing ever. And within the first two sort of exercises of rocking and rolling about on the floor, I was like, I am going to do this forever. Right. Wow. And do you remember who the teacher was? Chris Carter. I remember Chris Carter. She's amazing. She taught at The Place, didn't she? And I walked up to her afterwards and I said, what is this? I really like it. And she said, well, this is contemporary dance. Mhm. And, um, you're pretty good at it. I said, well, I've only this is my first time I've done it, but I really liked it. Yeah. And she said, well, why don't you come where I teach on Saturdays? I teach at The Young Place. Yeah. And so that became everything. And she said, I really like your t shirt. And I said, I'll bring you one next week. And I got her a Fuck Art Let's Dance t shirt. Um, and I was thirteen and that was it. Yeah. From that moment on, you'd found your tribe. That was all I wanted to do. So you went to The Young Place. Did you ditch the ballet or did you keep it up? I think I kept the one, the one hour a week. Yeah. Because on a Saturday, I would do contemporary and then creative. Yeah. I didn't do ballet at Saturday School. I just did the contemporary class and creative class. So I think I kept my ballet because I think by then I was beginning also to understand that if you were going to train, you did need that. Like at that time, The Place every morning you did a contemporary and you did a ballet. So I think I clocked that and thought, I better keep that on the boil. Yeah. And so being at The Young Place, did you start to learn more about what dance was happening in London? Yeah. And I think we started to go and see shows and it was companies like Extemporary. Yeah. Were I just were just the best thing ever. Yeah. Amazing. Amazing. And those early Lloyd Newson pieces on Extemporary. Yeah. Uh, really inspired me. Yeah. Um, and being at The Place, just seeing the posters around the building, just seeing the pamphlets that were the stuff that was on in the theatre. I mean, the whole thing I just became consumed by. And then I was still doing my reading, sort of, um, Leave from school. And that's when I realised, yeah, that's when I realised I needed these five O-Levels or equivalent equivalent to get onto the main course. And at sixteen, that was my absolute vision. Okay, so I went back to school to make sure I got them because apparently they wouldn't take you if you didn't have them. Oh God. It was called the Golden Handshake. I was determined, I think I got about three O-Levels and a couple of GCSEs. Um, but I got enough. But you got. Yeah, yeah. And, um, mixed with the success of that dance piece going to Scotland. Yeah. And did you know you were going to get in? Did you always have that confidence? Very scared. Right. No I don't think that was true. I think I've just lied. I think I know what I wanted it so much that I couldn't imagine not. Right. But that is different to thinking I will. Yeah. I hadn't thought about what it would be if you didn't get it. Exactly. Yeah. I just couldn't imagine it. Not by then. It that building was everything to me. Yeah. And, um, the final bit of that sort of incredible last year of taking the piece to Scotland and um, all the other things was that Jane Dudley had decided she wanted to make a piece for young people, and she came to Saturday school and chose. Seven or eight of us, I don't know. And we were going to be in this show. I mean, Jane treated us like we were, you know, full time professional dancers. It was insane. Um, and Bernadette Iglich was her assistant who was demonstrating even back then. Even back then. I mean, it was it was really full on. And we did this performance. Yeah. So anyway, bringing that up so that when I auditioned, yeah, I had, I had been in. Yeah, the faculty had all come to see that. It was quite a big thing. Yeah. Of Jane wanting to do this program of I think she did an evening and we were part of it. And then Harmonica Breakdown. Yeah. And then something else that she'd choreographed. It was Jane's work. What was what was your piece called? Do You Remember? Part of me wonders. Was it called Papillon or something? You know, butterfly. Yeah. Um, Isabel Mortimer was in it. Etta Murfitt was in it. Myself and some other young girls who were just shouted at by Jane. We were just shouted at her. She used to call me Ar Leetta Ar Leetta. What have you got in your pouch? Hold that pouch in Ar Leetta. I'd be like, I don't know. What have I got in my pouch? And so your peers in The Young Place. Yes. Um, had they was there kind of um familial setting similar to yours, do you think they were working class? Where did they, they come from? Yes. Um yeah. Etta came from a big family in Camden. Again though I don't, I don't, I always thought Etta was very glamorous because she was so beautiful and lived in London. I mean it's so glamorous, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't very glamorous. Yeah, it was a big North London family. She was from. And then Isabel, slightly differently. Her parents. Her dad was a photographer. Mhm. Um, and they lived in Great Portland Street. Right. That was very exciting. It was the shock of somebody living it right in the middle of town. Yeah. This was just incredible. Mhm. And. So so they did feel very different to me because they just felt like they lived in London. Yeah. But in terms of your, like, kind of embodied experience then as well, do you think were they going to ballet classes or did you feel like you had a similar dance experience to those people in the room, or did that also feel distinct? I think both Etta and Isabel just went to Saturday school. So I did feel the same as them. Yeah. Um, and probably started to see my ballet as a bit parochial. Right. However, my teacher wasn't, she was very cool. And she would say to me one day she said, Aletta, take the day off school and come with me. I'm going to this place called Riverside Studios. Oh my God. Come with me. Yeah. There's somebody called Michael Clark is gonna do a workshop. So I did, and that was my ballet teacher. Brilliant. So Irene was just so as a person. Amazing. Yeah, yeah. And I think it felt like as well, the sort of ballet she was teaching was very simple. Unaffected. Yeah. And she understood anyway that my ambition was to go to The Place. And so she was about trying to help me be as good as I could be to get in. Yeah. And what did your family think about all of this happening? Yeah. Well, part of me just thinks they didn't really notice. They were just so busy doing their young lives, what they were doing. I mean, my mum was just thirty when I was getting ready to audition to The Place. Yeah, yeah. Um, money was very, very tight. Yeah. And so I know she made a lot of decisions about, around making sure I could go and do those Saturday classes. Mhm. Um, that was the luxury. Yeah, yeah. I mean, there was, there wasn't um anything else. Um, but she, she absolutely made sure I got to do that Saturday school. Gorgeous. And at this point, did you still are you still going to be a dancer? Um, a hundred percent. Yeah. That's all that mattered. Yeah. Yes. and a choreographer I think. Yeah. And is there like. So it feels like when you started like the, the dancer persona was in standing in front of the choreographer, but when did they switch places, do you think? That's a very good point. I. I think I really liked being in charge of what the music was and what the thing looked like, and I remember watching TV when I was young and really getting confused. I just wanted to be the last name on the credit. And sometimes that was the director, sometimes that was the producer for TV shows. And I'd be like, yeah, but what's the most important role? Like, who's whose show is this? Yeah, yeah. And as a young person, I wanted to be the last name on that credit, on that credit. And I couldn't I didn't know what the job was. But you wanted to be the most important. I mean, I'm exposing myself to be a terrible, terrible person. Um. So I don't know when that flipped around or whether it ever really did or whether it was always both those things. I mean, it's also like to a certain degree, like maybe earlier in your, in the first half of your career. It's almost like those two Aletta's were holding hands. Yes. Like so for instance, when I was dancing in your company, you were dancing in it, in the shows as well. Yeah. As making the shows. But I knew of you as a choreographer, first of all. Oh, yeah. From being when I was a student. And because of course, like one of my first jobs was Carmen. Wow. But not the first iteration when we did it in like Birmingham or somewhere like the least glamorous location. That was my second job after I graduated, but I can remember auditioning for it in like studio seven or something at The Place. Yeah. And seeing you there, being in charge. So I always thought of you as the woman in charge as well, which was interesting, which is like the person who's the last name, the credit. Yeah. So for me, that was. Yeah. How I saw you. Yeah. When I first met you and worked with you. Amazing. Yeah, yeah. But since then, you've done a you know, you've choreographed and directed in like a really broad range of. Yes. Um, environments and, you know, opera, theatre, film, all sorts of things. Um, and do you think like, is like underpinning that work. Is it, or does it always return back to the body for you? your sort of experience of being in your body and your experience of the body and music and sound? And is that coming, Because it also really interestingly, it feels like the origins of that are via your dad, via your dad's music, which is almost quite working class as well, like the Sex Pistols coming out of that real, um, time of working class artists as well. I mean, who was it? Was it, um, uh, Jarvis Cocker? Cocker said that thanks to the dole, there is British music. Yeah yeah. If it hadn't been for that, there wouldn't have been this explosion. Yeah, yeah. So yes, I think that perception that you're saying of, of that that music scene. Yeah. Is, is, is very true. Yeah. Does it help me again? Does it, does it always come back to the body? Is that yeah. Like your understanding of when you're making decisions and making decisions that might also be, um, aesthetic decisions about design or uh, like they might be very intuitive, but how, I. But is it coming back to the practice of being a dancer fundamentally. I think so. Yeah, I think so. I think, I think it is, and there's something about being a maker more generally as well. Mhm. but I think, I think the, that journey from being through dance. Mhm. It can't ever really leave you. Mhm. So I think it probably does inform more than I consciously. Yeah. I think of myself as a maker. Yeah. But actually, yes, if I sort of really sort of drill down, I think it must, I think it must actually. Yeah. And thinking about that as well, and maybe this is going back to that moment when you go to Urdang and you see people who don't look how you look, um, thinking about your career and how broad. I mean, I think one newspaper article described you as like Britain's most versatile choreographer at one point. You know, just like that, that breadth and range. Wondering if there are ever moments when you might enter one of those spaces and maybe not feel like you can be the person in charge or always, always. Tell us about that. Yeah, always. Um, I'm always scared. Uh, I mean, I've just spent the last three, maybe four years directing computer games of the horror genre. Uh, naturally. Naturally. My great passion for horror. Really? Do any of them feature a knitted onesie. Um, and yeah, I was absolutely terrified of, um, what I'd got myself into and how could I contribute? But of course, I think, what I think, what dance does give you a good sort of grounding base a base for. Yeah. Is listening, trying, repeating. Yeah. Improving like, like just, just that basic thing of you're in a space and somebody says, no, that's not good. That's that's wrong. Do it more like that. Mhm. And you do, and you're also trained to be grateful because you wouldn't get a note if the teacher didn't like you. I remember being told that from a very early age. I say why she always having a go at me? Well, you know, she wouldn't. It's because she thinks you're good. You're getting the notes. You're getting the attention. Oh, right. Okay. Yeah. So, um, so what I'm trying to say by that is then. So if you find yourself in a sort of very new environment like this gaming world, I was ready to. I'm I'm still practiced at learning. Mhm. And maybe that's something from dance that um, is a great benefit that I don't go into a space, um, and have to have the answers. And if I haven't got the answers, make some up. I do go into a space saying, okay, what have I got to learn? Mhm. What? What is this, teach me. Um. And I find that that then is a way of breaking down, I suppose the, um, what could be, another sort of, um, situation where you sort of think, well, I shouldn't be in this. I'm an imposter in this. Yeah. So I do still enjoy learning and I did, I did enjoy doing the computer gaming. I mean, it's a. Wild world. Yeah. Yeah. but yes, um, I have managed to work across a wide. Yeah, really wide range. Some of it because I wanted to. Yeah. Creatively. And which were those. Um, Well I, I did really enjoy. Let me think. I mean, I do, I do enjoy all of it. I mean, I'm just saying that the reasons I tell you what I did really love was doing that project in Germany with you at the Berlin Philharmonic with Simon Rattle. Yeah, that was good. That was intense. That was really amazing. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And talk about people from different backgrounds. Those poor yeah. Les Noces. And we had four different groups. Yeah. Um, and some, you know, the like under tens, teenagers from like the roughest parts of former East Berlin, weren't they? Yeah. They said, you know, you can't go to the loo at the school because there's no running water and there's no electricity. And halfway through the class, we'll have to stop. And they all have to be given something to eat and some Ritalin, because some of them don't get fed all weekend. I mean this was Crikey. Yeah. Genuinely, wasn't it? Those were the instructions. We had a school with no running water or electricity, and that was their school. And I mean, it was an extraordinary project. And then the fourth sorry, the third group were elders. There was elders, so sixty five plus, and then another group, and a lot of them were refugees from the Congo. Yes. That's right. Yes, yes, yes. I'd forgotten. It was like, you know, an extraordinary project and very moving. I mean, really hard work. I remember I was planning in the mornings and things, and part of me not wanting to go there was like being kind of terrified, like, is it going to work? Because we, yeah, we, they were going to be on stage in front of a thousand five hundred people in a, in an arena. And we did it. And it was with the Berlin Philharmonic. Yeah. Playing Stravinsky. Yeah. No, that was amazing. Yeah. And they are. And by the end of it by. Was it six or eight weeks, something like that. And going in there week after week. But then them growing, all the participants growing in confidence and and shifting their mindsets was truly amazing. At the end of it, and actually before, when we got to the theatre, I remember I was in charge of the teenagers. Yeah. And I had them in a dressing room and we had translators as well. And I got them. By this point. We'd built up a good relationship with all the participants, but they were seen as quite the hardest group in a way to manage. Um, and then at that point, we were in the rehearsal dressing room and I got them all to sit back to back. And I just took them through a little like meditation. I got them to close their eyes and do a little breathing meditation. And then we finished that and I brought them out of it, and I was talking them through it. And then I looked up and I saw their teacher, their school teacher, and she was just in tears just pouring down her face. And she said, I've never seen this group of young people do that. And, and it was, you know, for her astounding, amazing. They'd calmed down. They were focused. They were listening. They were doing it. They were participating. And that, that, that as a project was, you know, really extraordinary to see what you can achieve. Yeah. With dance for sure. Yeah. And interestingly, when you, um, invited me to do that project and be a part of it and what I was delivering with that, with you, I, you know, I was terrified and, and it was really, um, interesting that, I mean, part of me inside my head was going, I can't do this. I don't know how to do this, but Aletta was just. Well, if Aletta thought I could do it, I must be able to. So I'll do it. And it's that thing of where you just keep doing the thing that you're most scared of, because you have a champion who says, yeah, you can. See I didn't want to do it because I thought I couldn't do it. And then I had Simon Rattle on the phone saying, yes, of course you can do this. So I did it. Um, so some have been great collaborations. Yeah. Some have been economic. Um, I remember years ago when I had a dance company that Rachel was in, um, I would only run the company for three to four months a year. Um, because the rest of the year I was earning a living so I could afford to run a dance company for three to four months a year because I would never take a salary for those three to four months. So I'd have to, in the rest of the year, create enough so I could do a dance piece. Mhm. Um, and then when I had my children. Yeah. Um, I couldn't afford to do that. So I stopped having a dance company and did freelance work that paid me money. Yeah. Um, because we had a family. Mhm. And so a lot of decisions were made economically. Yeah. After that. And was that something that you felt aware of when you were thinking about embarking upon a career in dance? Had you considered, the economics of a career in dance? No, I just saw people like Pina Bausch or Merce Cunningham or all these big famous choreographers. They seemed all right. I didn't. Yeah. They just seemed like they were getting by. They were living a life. Yeah. Do you think you'd feel differently about that now? I don't know how you can. In just contemporary dance. I don't see how you can have a career and make a living. You mean. No. Sorry. Yes. Make a living. Not. Not have a career. Sorry. Yeah. Make a living. I think, um. Because it it feels so, um. Mean, what that part, that sector is offered. Mhm. Um, so yes, it's in these more commercial freelance jobs, you can make that money. Mhm. But it, um. It's only occasionally do you get to find kindred spirits and get to contribute the work you really want to contribute. The problem was, in the very early days, I got a very bad review and it affected me very, very, very badly. Okay. And I think I've still got the repercussions of that. Right. What piece was that? Stand By Your Man. Okay. And in the press, I was written about as a sick feminist with sick ideas of her own sex and that it was a disgusting piece of work. And this went on. I mean, this was all in press, okay. And it sort of led me to many, many years of not wanting to be too explicit about anything and just keep everything a bit blurred. Gosh. Wow. And, uh, that suits. A lot of the freelance work I've had to do, but it hasn't served well, other parts. Right. That was a result, a direct result of that. It crippled me that it emotionally crippled me that review. And I don't know if I've ever actually recovered. Huh. Um. So. Yeah. Yeah, it's really extraordinary to hear, actually. You have to be very, very brave. But when, um, things like that have happened to you at very early age, it's hard to be. Don't want to be. Don't want to be a sick feminist. I don't want to be anything. Um, and yeah, and to have that label. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And so yeah. So, some of, when I was talking earlier about some of the choices have been artistic, you know, creatively exciting opportunities. Mhm. Most have been economic. And some have been to hide behind other things. Right. So I don't get that review. I can't get that review. And when you were working, like in more commercial, um, sort of context, like doing stuff in the West End, for instance, did you feel like you had more, artistic license in some ways or not at all? Like in doing even Jesus Christ Superstar? Did you feel like, I'm given this work, this job because I'm from a contemporary background. So I can be a little bit more experimental and left field and maybe a bit more dangerous because I've done more dangerous things. Yeah. So yeah, also that's just your vocabulary. So yeah, it's hard to even know what it is. It's just that's the way you see things. Yeah. But you've, you're always working under the pressure of a director who sees things in a certain way and wants to see things in a certain way. Right. And a producer who's seeing things in a totally other way as well. And so it's, it's a challenge I'm sure that we're all aware of, how do you strike that balance to fulfill what people want in a way that you feel confident is the right way of doing it. And that's. That's the politics of the last, I don't know how many years of working forty years. Yes. I've been working professionally for forty years. Right. Yeah. And I've, uh. Absolutely. One hundred percent financially supported myself for the last forty years. Yeah, yeah, yeah. There's not been any money from anywhere. You know, it's we're not a family that have that sort of, um, Cushion. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. So this is this has come up a lot with other guests that we've had on the podcast. This notion of precarity. So to a certain degree, most people have talked about if they've come from a working class background. And by that I mean, um, a lower socio economic background, that there's always this sense that no matter how much work you've done or that you're working right now, or maybe you've even in a full time job... there's this always this feeling, a physical feeling or a sensation of real precarity and, and tying that really to my working class background, because there was never, there has never been a financial safety net present in my life or in my working life. And is that something that has been really present for you? Would you one hundred percent? Yeah, one hundred percent. Yeah. Um. No, I know the only way there'll be some money is if I make it. Yeah. And so that's given me an incredible drive and energy, but it's also um. Quite. You, you sometimes are driven, you're sometimes driven by fear rather than something else. Yeah, exactly. Yeah. Um, yeah, I wouldn't say it's. Oh, it's great. It's really made me want to, um, but there was an element that where it's not a bad thing where actually, um, you know, having to support yourself does bring out good things. I'm not saying it's all terrible. Yeah. But a lot of it is, um. Yeah, quite fear inducing, quite stressful. Mhm. Um. And it's worst thing is it robs you of the enjoyment of what you're doing now because you tend to be looking forwards at what's next. And, and that's a shame because you're robbing yourself of actually what's this? Yeah. So those are the things that I suppose you just have to sort of practice teaching yourself to do. Because if they're not natural, you can still learn how to go. No, just stop the noise of what's going to happen and let's just be here. Yeah. And it comes back to that idea of what you've learned from dance. Mhm. As well, in thinking about what dance does to enable you to have that capability. Yeah. To put one foot in front of the other and repeat and yeah, like you say, adapt, learn, think of new ways. And to survive. Yeah. Have stamina. Stamina. Yeah. Um, and then the other things where we have to then unlearn some things. Yeah. Which is now you can answer back. Yeah. No, you don't have to just be shouted at. Yeah. Um. You're not fat. You're not useless. There's, as for all the really good things we've just mentioned. And you summed up brilliantly there. There's the not so good things. And, um, when I was training, there were, you know, some teachers who'd believed that, you know, sort of not, not quite, although I did see some people being hit, you know, you sort of, you shout and hit and bully somebody to be great that there's something about that that's um uh, so yes, unlearning some things as well. Yeah, yeah. Very much. And that often they're the things that we don't talk about. So and then I suppose another question we have. And have you ever walked into a situation where you feel like your confidence has wobbled a bit, but really because of your sort of class identity or class origins? Have you ever felt like, you know, walked into a room and felt out of your depth because everyone seemed so posh and accomplished, for instance? Yes, I think so. I think also, um, I've been in situations where it's also just been down to like, I haven't even been to university. Mhm. Um, feels really exposing. But yes, I remember the first time I worked at Glyndebourne. That being very challenging, that being very bizarre. I mean, but it was George Christie was still alive, his wife Mary. And yes, I could feel terrible. But they were so nice. You know, he, um, was they were so welcoming. It wasn't coming from them. Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Because the real posh, posh ones are as relaxed and easy as anyone. Yeah. It's it's that bit in the middle. What did my friend, my friend describe to me it beautifully. She said, you know, the middle classes, they're like just floating about at sea. Whereas you've got the working class and the upper class and they've got somewhere to go. Yeah, they can move. So there's, there's a freedom being in either of those two places because there is somewhere to move to. I thought that was that was really beautifully put. Um, yeah. So obvious places like Glyndebourne. Yeah. Like the Royal Opera House. Yeah. Southbank? National Theatre? Yeah. I mean. I felt out of my depth at the National Theatre, I think when I was working with Stephen Sondheim. Right. And, uh. I don't, I don't know if it was about, it was more about experience, right. I didn't understand the language he was using and a number of mine was on stage and he turned to me and said, kid, I was a kid. Kid, where's the button? And I genuinely, I am not joking. Thought he meant an actual button. I swear I didn't know what he was talking about. And I went up to somebody and I said, what does what does Stephen mean? Where's the button? Oh fucking hell. Dum didilee um bum. Clap clap. Right. Okay. Well, I sat there and thought, well, that's Stupid because he's just written a song called Finishing the Hat that up until ten minutes ago, I thought was the most amazing song about how you can't ever finish art. Art is always unfinished, and now you want a fucking button? Um. Yeah. Yes. But yes, a lot that that Musical Theatre, all those rules are totally out of my depth with. I didn't understand what bumps and buttons and all these different things were. I mean, the opera stuff easier because it's just pure snobbery. Huh. Um, to understand. Um. But yes, I didn't know about that. What do you mean? Well. I think. There's there's a particular snobbery about having access to opera that a certain group of people really like, I think because it's a club. Yeah. Right. So they're quite surprised when somebody like you, like one, is in that club. Okay. What's, what's the someone like you? You? what do you mean by that? Well I'm not I'm not Well I don't feel I'm educated because I, I've, I got the five O-Levels and two or three of them weren't even O-Levels. They're cheap O-Levels, they're GCSEs. So I mean my golden handshake don't clench too tightly because some of the paint might come off that. Um yeah. I haven't got that network of what all these this sort of Oxbridge or. Yeah, yeah. Okay. Whatever. You know. I, yeah, I don't have that. So I do feel that people around you do in those situations? Yeah, yeah, I do, but you've worked in opera for such a long time now. Yeah. I mean, and you love it don't you. Yeah. And a lot, a lot of the time I've worked with my friend Tom. Yeah. And he's very different. So I suppose the two of us found solace with each other. Is he from a working class background as well? In Ireland. Okay. This is yeah. Sometimes we find that solidarity coming from a similar background. So you find that solidarity like us. Yes. So he's he's his family Irish shopkeepers. Right. And he went to Art School. Right. And studied ceramics. Oh, God, I didn't realise. And then came over to England. And I don't know how or why, but he suddenly. Well, I think he was he was he became a school teacher. Right, right. But he then decided I want to be a theatre designer and left it all and did a course that at that time was a based at Riverside. Yeah. And then he became a director and we started just working together and we were co-directors, etcetera, etcetera. Yeah. So a lot of the time we were experiencing similar things, but we had each other. But also he was he's a bit older than me. Maybe fifteen years or so. And I just remember thinking he was really remarkable the way he dealt with these situations because however odd someone was being, Tom would always find a way of bringing it back to the sort of human conversation. And at that he was an Oxbridge don at being a person. Right. And he seemed to have a really brilliant knack at that, of taking away the the stuff that was making one feel a bit fraudulent or. Yeah. Or imposter syndrome. Yeah. So did you learn a lot from him in that respect? Yes. Yeah. Yes. Yeah. And it's a brilliant thing. Yeah. I mean, it's a luxurious thing to say, but everybody is just a person. Yeah. And if you can try and talk with that person and not come from any of your preconceptions or. Yeah, yeah. Baggage or however you want to say it, then of course you can have a conversation with anyone. Yeah. Yeah. It's just sometimes in the moment, it's it's hard. And also, I'm saying it's luxurious because it's not just a state of mind when you haven't got any money. No. And you don't know what you're going to do. And you literally take any job. Yeah. Um, it's very luxurious to say, you know, we're all people, but you know, we are. So I learned from him that some of those situations where I did feel uncomfortable or worried. Yeah. Actually don't - connect with the person. Yeah. I mean, he'd be mortified if he heard that. He would be so embarrassed and say, don't be so bloody ridiculous. You're talking crap. But it's true. Yeah. Amazing. Thinking about that in relation to those kind of class encounters. Well, how do you feel about your class now? Yeah, well, as I say, this friend laughed at me and said, you can't do that. Was it Tom that laughed at you? Yeah. And he said, you know, your parents were artists. And I was like, oh, um. Well, I was very young. As I said, I used to live with my grandparents, so there was a lot of going to train stations. Yeah. And I, I, I must have been so young three or something. And I've got this memory of running for the train and me going, look, look here, here. And my mum shouting over her shoulder, no, that's first class. And me running and shouting. Yeah. What class are we? And I saw this man laugh and I was like, I know I've said something quite. I don't know what I've said, but I know I've said something brilliant. That's like a cinematic moment. Yeah. I could see Steve McQueen putting that in a movie. Yeah, yeah. And I do still feel like that little girl. I don't, I don't bloody know. Um. I feel working class because I work. Yeah. Yeah. And I have to work and it's not a choice. Yeah. Yeah. It's actually. Yeah. That's what I have to do. Yeah. But I also am very aware that I've benefited from the mobility that I think the sixties and seventies offered. Right. Because I got to go to a Conservatoire. Yeah. I've worked in the top opera houses around the world. Mhm. Mhm. Um, I've had artists like, um, Scott Walker. Scott. Scott Walker. So Scott Walker, um, in an interview, because I commissioned, I've worked with him quite a lot. And, uh, he said about the piece that we were making, he said, oh, no, I mean, I don't, I don't like Jean Cocteau. But what I do like is Aletta Collins. And if she's doing it, I'll do Jean Cocteau. Love it. Um, and I, yeah, I've done lots of shows at the Barbican with him and stuff like that. He's a, I mean He's very sadly missed. Um so. Because I've had these incredible opportunities to work with all these different artists across these different backgrounds. Yeah, yeah. And Shakespeare, I mean, the to have worked on something that I'd never think I could do because that's in your that's in your world. Yeah, exactly. Exactly. Yeah, Um, but my mobility, yeah, is very different. Yeah. I have a mortgage. Yeah. My mum and dad were in rented accommodation until quite, quite late in their life. Yeah. Um, I'm not saying that's the definition. I'm just saying there are all these different things. And then my oldest son has gotten into Central Saint Martins and um I said to him when he kind of first started. God, it must be lovely to be at college where, you know, presumably everyone's from very different backgrounds. Um, and he said, what are you talking about? I said, well, you know, art is such a great open, you know, even leveller. And he said, you're crazy. There's not one person that hasn't come through private school. I said, really? Yes. Um, they're the only people that could afford to do all the courses and how you do your portfolio. Yeah. But he, he felt that, you know, it it felt like a very sort of wealthy finishing school. Yeah. And that fashion is such a sort of nice pair of trousers. That's a nice top. That, um, you know, you could send your kid there for three years and they'll have a nice time in London and buy lots of clothes and then come home. Um, and so him and actually the guy that's become his best friend is the only other person that doesn't come from a background like that. And they've got their own, their own fashion label now. Yeah. Yeah. So, um, yeah, but anyway, this young guy, Matthew. They're the most similar. and they both felt that what had happened to Central Saint Martins was, yeah, a bit not great. Um. But so, but something that you brought up then, and I was thinking about as you were telling that story, was this idea of how your experience of being in lots of different spaces with lots of different groups of demographics, if you like. Yeah. Um, but how dance is really anchoring your ability to be in those spaces. Like it's, it's that idea about levelling out. You said just, you know, this idea of like, we're all people. Yeah. Um, and I think that that feels like a really interesting, an important actually example of how, despite any kind of class distinction that we may or may not be aware of actually dance is the thing regardless of how many O-Levels you've got. Yeah. That is putting your is, is placing you in these spaces and enabling you. I'm not saying it's the only thing, but, um, I think, I think you're right. I mean, I think one of the brilliant things about dance and why it can reach different places is you learn it in a group of people, thirty people. Yeah. You're in a room with that many people. It's not tennis. Mhm. Where there's one other person. It's not golf. It's not a violin. It's not things that need a one on one teacher. I mean, I'm sure there's arguments to say, oh no, no, no, there's group classes, but fine. Yeah. But as taken, a class is a class you're in a group. Yeah. So already that's cheaper. Yeah. Your entrance fee is cheaper from word go because it's thirty people and not. Yeah. Yeah. You know one on one piano. Yeah. Yeah. Or voice coach or whatever. Yes. Yeah. Singing teacher. Um, so already the very first experiences, you're navigating thirty other bodies in a space and not knocking into them and you're navigating space, you're navigating personal space, you're navigating bodies, energy, touch everything. Yeah, yeah. Um, so there's an awful lot you immediately are getting for free before you've even developed as a dancer, you're sort of experiencing this, which I suppose to some extent, um, some people experience in their gym situation, but that has more. Uh, stuff, doesn't it? And you've got like an independent agenda at the gym, haven't you? Exactly. Whereas this group thing, you know, and I mean, whether it's contemporary dance or Zumba, it's all the, you know, absolutely that, that thing. Yeah. Um, I do think that, I mean, I think that levelling, one of the things that's really great about dance, but also I wish would change a bit is that by the time you've, it's a bit like being probably um a person really, by the time you've understood it, it's over. By the time you think, oh, I think I've just got that. But you have to be careful because these things move so quickly. Like I remember being, yeah, probably sixteen and a teacher, dance teacher saying to me, look, we're very similar. You know, I understand we're both short, a bit overweight. So this is what you do. And I said, what? She said, well, you get in And before you have your dinner, you have a gin and tonic. If you're very hungry, have two. It just takes the edge off. I was fucking sixteen. I was like, what? Okay, um. Why am I saying that story? Because that was genuinely what what she did. Yeah. And it worked for her. And we were twenty years on and well longer on. And, uh, that doesn't work now. And I'm sure there'd be advice or things I've said today that the next generation are saying, well, that's ridiculous. You shouldn't be saying that. Um, but this idea of understanding about what we share. Yeah. And what we have in common. Is what I would advocate as the thing that we need to keep building on. Because at the moment you're talking about balance. This world feels to me stronger in its separateness and in its difference. Yeah, and just a few of us changing just eventually will keep that balance moving in a way where maybe it just levels, but we're not held hostage to the separateness. Yeah, that sort of atomisation. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So I do think it's important to build that. And I suppose that's what I would like to see shared with. People more, is how we share a lot and we can share more. Yeah. Yeah. And go beyond something economical, go beyond something based on age and appearance. Appearance. Thank you. And get to what really matters, which is the heart. And we do share that. And we do share very basic things of wanting to be alive, wanting to be safe, wanting to be not hungry, wanting to not be in danger. Like there are very basic human things that we will all share. Yeah. Um, and let's support each other to have, you know. The support that those other lives we live. Um, and it really resonates with the title of this podcast is moving stories of loving of levelling up. Um, because Rachel and I, in the development of this series, were talking very much about like the the government's levelling up agenda and this idea of talent distribution in the UK and this attempt for everything to be fairer. Um, and it feels like quite a point of contention, but it also feels like it really, there's lots of things that you've said today, particularly in this idea about that middle ground of people, people in the middle striving. If you're working class, if you're middle class, you're neither, you're not the top or the bottom like, or you're sort of in this middle ground. Um, but also this idea that we're just talking about in relation to everybody having basic human needs and that being the thing that should be and that then met and yet they're met. Yeah. but also we're thinking about, how dance in the way that you were describing, that even just being in the room together and has the ability to facilitate a type of democratic way of being together, and that that has a part to play in how we can think about equality and equality of opportunity and social mobility. Um, so we're, we are inviting our guests to, to sort of reflect upon this notion of leveling up and maybe whether having a career in dance or having danced in your life, um, feels like a way in which you've been able to, navigate a world other than the one you were born into. Yeah. I think also, um, you were talking about just being in that dance class or dance space. You know, it's, it's, it's amazingly respectful. You're going across the floor in twos. Yeah. No one of you doesn't just decide to go ahead of the other one or push in or like we seek. I can't leave my house without just seeing more examples of road rage, of people not being able to wait for the other person to do something before they do it. Well, that's a dance class. Yeah. You wait. Yeah. Two by two. Yeah, yeah. Or you respect someone's space or you don't all laugh and point at the person if they can't. Like, there's a lot of fantastic things about a dance class, the collaboration, like sometimes they don't help each other out. Yeah, yeah yeah. And it's, collaboration that doesn't need to be spoken as well. It's sort of happening wordlessly and you're doing it. You're moving. Yeah. There's just um. Yeah. Community. There's community happening. Um, and in a shared bodily experience. And I feel like sometimes it's almost like also everyone's respecting everyone else's bodily insecurity because they, they're handling theirs. So there's like a togetherness in not insecurity and bodily vulnerability, let's say, like there's this shared understanding that we've all opted to make ourselves vulnerable. Like we've stripped everything away. We've taken up most of our clothes off. We're not even talking the talk we're dancing about. And that can be both super empowering and, and super alive feeling, but also super on the edge because you're quite vulnerable at the same time. And I think that's kind of interesting. So you're learning how to deal with that in a dance class all the time as well. This, this is sort of an offshoot, but I remember years ago when I used to teach yoga economically to get some extra money and I would do yoga one on one to add a few A-listers on my books. And I remember one day you asking me, what's it like teaching that person? Aren't you a bit terrified? And I kind of remember saying something like, when he stood there in front of me in a crappy old t shirt and shorts, No, not at all. I'm the person who knows what's happening in the room. You know, you've got the expertise. Yeah, I've got the expertise in that moment, and I never felt a lack of confidence. I felt really assured of myself in those moments. But then if I was in the kitchen with him having a cup of tea I'd be a bit more frightened. It's so interesting. But but when I look back on it, when we're in the room and doing the practice, doing the physical practice was where my confidence was assured. But outside of the practice of dancing, my confidence would wobble, which is kind of interesting as well. But do you feel like you've leveled up then? Via dance? I think I've grown up. Yes, a bit. I think I, um. Used to, when I was younger, think things weren't fair. Mhm. It's not fair. Mhm. And I don't feel so sorry for myself as probably I did when I was younger. I know that money is really difficult, and it's a very real thing. But it's a constant daily battle for that not to overtake everything because it will just colour everything. Mhm. And, Yes, it is very, very important. And it's very difficult when you haven't got it. And I know that, but it, it will just colour everything. Mhm. So you've got to find the, balance again. Yeah. It um, you know, as I said earlier, I think my mum I didn't use this language but sacrificed quite a lot of things so I could go to your dance, to my dance class. A really familiar story, isn't it? Yeah. Is there anything that we've not talked about Aletta that you'd like to talk about? Oh, I've got one last question actually. So we've talked about people who've championed you, but do you think you've really been conscious about how you've championed others over your career. Like me, for instance? Yes. Um, yeah, I've, I am aware of, you know, I've mentored, yeah, quite a few people and they've done very, very well. I remember one young choreographer I was walking down the road with and I said, the thing is, you should be in there. And I pointed to this theatre. And she was like, I said, no, that's where you should be. So go in there now and ask to meet somebody. And she did. She did. Yeah. Um, sometimes people need a push. She needed a push. Yeah. Sometimes people need just space. To not know what they're doing. And and that that that that can be okay. Um, but I suppose the main thing is that. Life is constantly changing. If you want it to stay still, that's death. So keep moving. Keep aligning yourself with the change. Mhm. Keep enjoying that Today is different. Stop worrying that you just want everything to. Mhm. And and and for dance people, it's really weird wanting things to stay still. Yes, it's really perverse. Yeah. Direct. Opposite. True. Well, thank you so much. Thank you. Yeah. It's been a pleasure. It's been a real pleasure. Thank you so much. Thanks for listening to this episode of the Dancing Class podcast. We hope that you enjoy the rest of the series. Please do keep in touch with us via socials, hashtag leveling up dance on Instagram and via the web page where you can also contact the project team.
