There are many ways to entertain ourselves as spectators. We can watch sports, observe the animals at the zoo, experience the opera, or simply go down the Netflix rabbit hole. Personally, I am partial to another type of entertainment – the dance performance.

Illustration by Gustav Steenkamp

Observing a dancer is an opportunity to notice emotions and thoughts dance with each other in real time, intertwining around the curves and lines of the dancer’s physicality. But why is non-verbal physical performance so powerful in the first place? The phenomenon of kinesthetic empathy is one part of the explanation.

Kinesthetic empathy deals with “the ability to experience empathy merely by observing the movements of another human being” (Kinesthetic Empathy in Creative and Cultural Practices). To put it simply, when observing a performance, the spectator’s body will activate certain neurons that are also activated in the dancer performing the movement. The activation of these so-called mirror neurons creates a similar visceral experience for both the dancer and the observer, thus giving us the opportunity to experience the physical thrill of movement from our seats. An activity both intellectual and visceral, it brings us closer to the virtuosic expression and emotional artistry of the performer. And once as spectators we can begin thinking of a dance performance as an augmented reality of our own sensations, we can then begin to understand the inner life of the dancer’s mind more closely.

A ballet performance can lure us into embodying the grace and purity of an idealized, romantic notion of love. A raw, contemporary performance can help us tap into darker emotions of vulnerability, aggression and fear.

 As a performer and practitioner, I cycle through many sensations on stage to present a full palette of movement and emotion. I stand tall and relaxed, listening quietly to my body. When working with improvisation on stage, I move across the floor offering half-formed ideas of movement, nonchalantly initiating from my pelvis, chest, shoulder, knee, or nose. 

 I pay attention to how the creaky wooden floor and the hot and blinding beam of the spotlight feel different on my skin. I connect the disparate sensations of my feet, toes, ankles, hips, spine, breath and focus to form something new. At times I feel overwhelmed, but I find playfulness and proceed to challenge myself further. I try on different moods and ideas like new skins or costumes. Every step becomes a walk through a waterfall, refreshing my experience of the moment.

This fluidity is what I dream most of communicating with the spectators. Seeing a performer move with openness in the space around them, with no judgement and inhibitions is powerful and a feeling we all deserve to embody. Embodied dance work thus becomes a way to put ourselves in other people’s shoes repeatedly and rapidly, in the span of a day, an hour or even a minute.

 Awakening kinesthetic empathy has become something I purposefully set out to do as a creator. I think of movement forming inside the brain and the spinal cord rather than simply at the edges of the bodies of the dancers. Instead of seeing a dancer reach out their hand in space, I explore how to provoke the specific dancer in front of me to organize their whole body in a way that shoots the hand out with conviction and motivation.

 If the dancer’s movements ring true, then it is more likely for the audience to viscerally respond to them. Not all choreographers work this way – some prefer the geometric or abstract effect of movement rather than the emotive, and I admire this approach as well. In my work, however, exploring empathy and emotion through motion is my primary line of work.

 In the next few days I am starting a new creation for Ballet Arabesque, Bulgaria’s sole contemporary ballet company. The piece explores a dystopian future where the levels of air pollution bring urban life to its demise at the hands of corrupt politicians, more concerned about their safety than letting the city know the truth. The dancers will have to embody naiveté, betrayal and the gradual loss of the oxygen around them. 

 To explore this through kinesthetic empathy we will be playing with strong contrast between beauty and grotesque. The audience is meant to empathize with the plight of three characters: The Entertainer and the Married Couple. As the piece progresses and the air on stage gets thicker and thicker, these dancers are meant to go from beautiful, virtuosic variations to choppy, exhausted figments of their repertoire. It will be a challenge to deconstruct the dancers’ inherent training and to inspire them to dance in a convincingly-embodied “ugly” way. As we enter the studios with face masks and social distancing rules still intact, I wonder if that means it will be eerily easy to manifest the isolation and constricted breathing that the piece demands.

 One thing is for sure, it will make an interesting case for kinesthetic empathy as our audience in the fall observes the dancers slug and drag their way across stage under the blanket of a thick mist. I wonder if they will feel sluggish and tired, compassionate and terrified, or something completely different beyond the expressive intent of the dancers.

 Through the act of observing dance, different personas and emotions will reflexively awaken inside the audience. So next time you pick a dance performance, stay open to the experience and you might be surprised by the emotions the physical effort on stage manifests inside you. Nothing is out of bounds.

DIVA DISHA by Kosta Karakashyan will be premiering in the fall as part of Ballet Arabesque's 10th Competiton for Contemporary Choreography for the Margarita Arnaudova Award