Cutting Ties on the Floor

On January 18, 2024, the artist ELLE FIERCE performed at the UMBAU launch of the third issue ‘Chaining’.

The performance, specially developed for UMBAU, continues to resonate in conversations at the HfG. In March, Charlotte Eifler and Elle Fierce met up for a chat.

Charlotte Eifler: Elle, very casual, I remember that our first encounters were on the dance floor. I don’t think we met there for no reason, since these sites often act as places of refuge for queer or marginalised realities. And for me, these subcultural spaces offer, among other things, some key assets for escaping normative routines. I was merely contemplating whether there is any entanglement or disassociation between the floors of the theatre and those of a club for you?

ELLE FIERCE: Ha, oh yes. Where I’m coming from as a person—literally in my queer, black skin—has directed me to these certain subcultural spaces. But also me as a performer, who is trained so hard, you could say in a military way. I also arrive to those spaces to unlock a different sense of performance.

A performance in accordance with my own terms and conditions, which may be considered to be analogous to my guidelines, boundaries or desires.

I realized that, when I was in ballet, I was essentially a court servant, performing for royalty. Furthermore, I believe that this intrinsic feeling remains unchanged. For instance, when I am performing on an opera house stage, I still feel the mechanisms of power and representation at work. That I am doing what I am doing, for whom I am doing it and why I am doing it. I feel that the manner in which we have arrived at this point is similar to that of the 1600s, although perhaps with a lesser degree of violence. However, this is not to say that there are no other forms of violence.

On the club dance floor, I do not experience this. There is no hierarchy; I am my own hierarchy. I am at the top and at the bottom of the hierarchy, in a sense.

Taxi - B. Ames

CE: I remember the moment when you told me that you would quit your engagement as a ballet dancer in the opera. You were cutting the ties to your safety net for the matter of your own artistic path, but also to unchain from the very suppressing structures in these institutional contexts…

EF: 100%—I would say it was the structures. These structures had been in place since I was 6 years old and they didn’t actually change. 

At the age of 23, I did not question the situation. However, I was unhappy and exhibited self-destructive behaviours as a result. In essence, I was damaging myself. This was not what I wanted. Similarly, many rules about what my body should be and should not be were in place. Interestingly, the switch from working in a ballet company in the UK for three years, where I was trained, and going directly into a British company felt very similar. However, the British way of working is quite different. It is not a culture of giving, but rather one of taking. In my experience, the system is characterised by a top-down approach. 

They have extremely stretched budgets and that translates into how work is being made—the speed, the pace, the demands. I recall being in my second year and questioning the feasibility of the situation: I am unable to cope with the situation. I feel as though I am merely an instrument, I’m lost in my body. 

Consequently, I terminated my employment and subsequently resolved that I would never again engage in dancing. But I was offered a position in Germany and my aspiration was to leave England.  

My experience of working in Germany differed significantly from my previous experiences in the UK. The working culture in Germany was notably more relaxed, which helped my well-being a lot. I felt more at ease in my ability to be myself, or that all of me was still included. This was in contrast to the UK, where the situation was very similar to that of a student-teacher. However, there was a sense of excitement at the beginning, as though I had a lot of space and freedom. Furthermore, the structure becomes apparent over time, and one realizes, after some time, that it is, in fact, the same structure. It is as if one has put on different glasses. The core of the structure remains unchanged. It is, therefore, racist and misogynistic. The gender binary is a prominent feature of this structure, with a strong enforcement of gender norms. It is weirdly both homophobic and one of the most gay-friendly industries. 

Rather than simply expressing my frustration, I somehow started to consider how to make things better. I’m 24 or whatever, I’ve got the energy. Let’s do it. 

They didn’t want to change the structure. They just wanted to give it some lip service.

So I had to cut ties.

But even in my own independent practice, I am occasionally constrained by this structure. It originates from within me and presents as a significant obstacle. When I am working independently, it is particularly difficult to overcome. For instance, if I am in the studio for a week by myself, the structure begins to manifest in certain ways, and I begin to impose a certain degree of self-control and discipline. This process of detaching from the structure is ongoing, even years later.

CE: Yes, I think the dismantling of structures is one of the most challenging processes, especially those in which you grew up in.

I have the impression that the performativity of power is particularly strong and expresses itself in places that are characterised by the old master-disciple system. Where craft and high culture meet. As in art, dance or theatre academies ... being additionally predominantly white and elite institutions. 

When you were performing at HfG Karlsruhe I felt a huge generosity. You created a unique space which I would describe as tender madness. This involved a combination of softness, desperation, humour and confrontation, all conveyed through your genuine body language and dramaturgy... 

EF: Yes and it was my inaugural performance at a German arts university. I was questioning what the institution stood for and the nature of institutional life in Germany.

I have been investigating forms of radical solidarity. Risk is a significant factor in my work, which is interesting because I previously did not consider my actions as risky.

I think by applying these concepts of risk, solidarity, and moments of connection and communication, which are nonverbal and occur constantly between individuals, I initiate insights that could not be fully anticipated before but tell a lot about the relation between audience and performer. We have to tune in, be with each other, in order to feel the space. 

CE: In the academy of Karlsruhe the audience became an integral part of the performance. You were orchestrating the attention of the crowd through individual and collective gazes and gestures. Constantly shifting the dynamics of power. What does an audience mean to you?

EF: The audience is super important to me, actually.

I mean, that stems from growing up and walking down the street and seemingly having an audience. I felt that at some point, basically, I didn’t have control over whether I have an audience or not. 

I seem to always have an audience, and whether they're going to be celebratory or derogatory was always out of my hands. And this brought loads of violent situations with it too. 

But I’m not doing anything, I’m just being. And then I realized people perceive me as some sort of performance. I battled with that for years. So, that’s the way the cookie has crumbled. 

I decided to embrace this reality. 

What if, rather than attempting to resist it, I simply embraced it? A few years ago, I came to the realization that everyone is the audience, and that every moment is an opportunity for performance. When I take a taxi, it is a performance. I am consumed by this idea. In fact, I use all of these seemingly insignificant interactions in my daily life to explore these performances in a multitude of ways, often in a dynamic and creative manner. And I started to perform different identities. One can assume any identity one desires. One can also test out any role. This role may be nonverbal, but I can conduct research on the character in advance.

I can be in the back of the taxi and the taxi driver will always ask me: Where are you going? Where are you from? What do you do? 

Always, always, always. 

And because I’ve always got a big bag or a suitcase, because I’m on the move, those questions I know are coming.

And then I’m like, great, we have a chance. I will kind of turn you into an audience. 

Like, I’m just trying to take a taxi and you’re hitting on me, so I’m going to flip that and also make it absurd and give you this sort of character. 

On a stage level, each performance is unique to me. I do not believe that the younger me, who had performed Swan Lake 50 times in one season, would agree with the notion that repetition is inevitable. I’m at odds with the approach that I am a commodity and have to perform the same actions over and over again. I vow to remain new to myself.