Backstage with Brigitte Huezo
As a choreographer and dancer who works with digital technologies, where do you see their potentials? How do you consider technologies impacts on society? What does technology make possible? What can you show with it?
What you can show and what you cannot show has to do with binarity and this is already what interests me. The way I work with technology is deconstructive. It motivates me to learn something very specific, how technology works, how I can work with it and add a shift of perspective to it. Sometimes the technology does not come into direct relation with the body and the body does not come into direct relation with the technology. So you are in-between those two poles. And I think it should not be like that. The technology is part of me; I am living in these extensions of technologies. I do not remember a date when I did not have internet. I did not learn to dance in the studio. I always did it in front of a screen. For me technology was also a tool of seeing myself and detaching myself from my body, I see my body in a medium.
How would you describe your specific view of the body – online and onsite – that result from this work?
Lately I more and more use the term phygitality. It is like being in two spaces at the same time. Coming from the background of dance, I would describe it like that. Maybe it still needs more research or elaboration, but I can relate to the term. I insist to have the agency of technology and at the same time the agency of the body in mind. How the virtual is being performed – or how the virtual will perform you. When you are in a virtual space, your brain works in a unique way. It is like experiencing a shift in perspective, where everything around you changes and you can interact with the virtual environment in new ways. Your body responds to this by feeling a connection, as if you are in a physical room, sensing objects around you. However, there is also an abstract element, like an object moving on the screen. As someone with a background in contemporary dance, I had questions about how dance techniques translate into this virtual realm during my studies. Ballet e.g. was part of the education and was something the Eurocentric perspective inscribed on my body. The body I inhabit does not seem naturally suited for the demands of this context. I find myself pondering the continued relevance of these techniques in my current pursuits. My entry into contemporary dance education was somewhat unconventional, stemming from my background in martial arts. It dawns on me that without the foundation of martial arts knowledge, I might struggle to connect with contemporary dance at all. This reflection raises questions about the universality of these techniques and whether they can truly resonate across diverse experiences and physicalities.
In the 1990s, the dance scene underwent a remarkable shift in consciousness, becoming increasingly attuned to the aesthetic possibilities of the Internet and embracing interdisciplinary approaches. This period of transformation has left a lasting imprint on dance academia, influencing how we perceive and shape the dancing body. Traditionally, dancers entered the studio and faced mirrors as an integral part of their practice. However, in the present day, there is a noticeable drift towards immersing ourselves in virtual realities, where the screen becomes a new focal point for exploration and expression. This development reflects a dynamic merging of technology and artistic practice, a notable departure from more conventional studio-based methods.
Your works experiment with ways in which the human body can be expanded. Do they have transgressive potentials?
I find a resonance with the term trans – in a transformative context—transcending boundaries, being trans-connected in an interconnected web and spanning across generations. In my artistic endeavours, I consider the body as a form of monstrosity, a concept intricately woven with the integration of my persona into the virtual space. Within these digital realms, the conventional need for body segregation diminishes, allowing for a more fluid and interconnected experience. Introducing this sense of monstrosity becomes a somewhat anarchistic act, challenging norms that I may not necessarily embrace in my everyday life due to societal constraints. The streets, unfortunately, may not accommodate such expressions, with limitations imposed by factors like health insurance access and economic standards of living. While acknowledging that virtual spaces are not devoid of challenges, there exists a space for this monstrosity to be accepted, coexist, or even expand upon the imperfect nature of the body, diverging from normative ideals. This transformative potential, perhaps, marks the emergence of new possibilities and dynamics in the ongoing evolution of our understanding and expression of the self. The transformation point thus becomes a catalyst for exploring new possibilities, coexisting with imperfections, and reshaping the narrative around the body and identity in the virtual realm.
Your two-part performative installation Post Digital Bodies was part of the opening of this season and celebration of 25 years of tanzhaus nrw. Visitors/participants were able to immerse themselves in both parts of the installation. Through their actions, they changed events and the environment, they moved and were moved. What do you want visitors to experience?
For the first time I was observing how people react to my ideas. Post Digital Bodies has such a simple set-up, but people reacted in so many different ways. I wanted to experience these encounters. During the sessions of the installation at tanzhaus, I also saw groups of families, young people, fathers, grandmothers – and I was imagining perhaps behind the screen there are people of many ages, who I play with, but on the screen, I never saw such intergenerational encounters. That was very inspiring for me.
Maybe I was also looking for a setting where I do not control the choreography all the time. And I also wanted to share a part of my reality. Often virtual realities are very disconnected to the reality and your senses start freaking out. I wanted a set-up that is more connected to the body. Something that is situated, located in the virtual but also the physical space. I like to bring people closer to the screen gradually. Stepping in and out, you consent the content with your body in a way. I think this has a lot of potential. Then I came up with that I would call one of my retro-game-installations. This technology is somehow very old-fashioned; it comes from the gaming market, where it is not popular anymore. But it offers a solution for the tracking of many cursors, which is usually very expensive.
Watching the audience, I could see various factors triggering individuals. I saw when something was not properly working. When visitors needed to wait, until the screen changed. As humans, we sometimes do not understand computers, and we are used to everything being faster. The glitches and delays are special for me. You realize how the computer is working for you and need to speak the same language. In Post Digital Bodies, entering the dancefloor is treated like a stick in gaming that means the dance floor is like a control stick. People might not have an idea of gaming, but they have an idea of their own body. I developed the avatars in the piece from humans. It was the first time for me to do such a 3D environment. It was two months of work. I recorded those motion-tracking dances from TikTok to give them to meta humans. Meta humans are the future of your digital selves. Maybe not many people noticed that meta humans are currently such a thing, but for me this extension of myself into an avatar is a kind of everyday experience. It provides superpowers. Meta humans are faster; they have more diverse potential for movement and facial expressions. For me they are superheroes.
The game in my piece has no goal – and that is something I am learning while I am doing this. There is this aggressive aspect of gaming, where you are up to always perfecting something to win a level. In Post Digital Bodies there were no levels, although it was technically build like this. From the audience perspective, it was just a matter of dancing. It is a gamification of dance.
You are now showing your solo piece THE DEAD CODE MUST BE ALIVE! at the festival Temps d'Images. The first thing that caught my attention was the title: Death and life allude very clearly to biology and ecology. What your piece is about?
The title may seem rather technical or geeky, derived from a programming language concept that implies a parameter that detects that the code is inactive or “dead”. The usual practice is to delete that dead code, but my approach is different: my goal is to bring it to life. In this project, the code is not standalone; it depends on the presence of my body. It is a performance inseparable from the physical form. From the point of view of programming and technology, I explore how to structure the code as a dynamic presence on stage, blurring the lines between the code and the body. The body initiates the programs through movement, using a motion capture suit to simulate real-time gameplay. This integration of code and physicality at the core of the performance questions the traditional boundaries between technology and the human form. We are transmitting the magnetic alignments of all body parts into the game programme. Then the game programme is sending data to another programme – where we coded joint hands and feet or shoulder joints and hip joints. We send those signals to the motion capture suit, to this programme, in order to tell the programme to make a specific sound when I raise my hands or something. All this is happening live, so the code does not exist by something pre-set. It is mostly giving the information from a living body into the computer. Of course, we had to find out which kind of code will do that. Which programme will be capable to do that? We are working on that project since 2022 and it is still a learning process. We embrace many failures. Failures often have a bad connotation, but for me they cause the most precious moments. Sometimes the programme crushes, after a while it happens again, sometimes the programme does not react at all. We have to master it in a way and understand the computer and programmes more to run the performances. So, technically speaking the piece is made through the motion capturing, the sound, and the body parts being visually connected.
It is very interesting to understand codes and programming as artistic material. You speak from a “we”-perspective. I can imagine that your complex production processes involve many people.
I often refer to “we” because my creative process involves collaboration with several programmers and collaborators. I strongly believe that the future is in collaboration; futures are intentionally collaborative. As I browse and trial different programmes and codes, I reach out to people who specialize in those particular areas. In addition, I work with 3D artists who are flexible-minded in their treatment of the body, although integrating their expertise in the field of dance presents its own challenges. Being a self-confessed do-it-yourselfer, I love hands-on DIY experiences. For example, when working with motion tracking, I repeatedly go into the studio alone, experimenting with the motion capture suit to understand its intricacies. Despite the stereotype of someone immersed in technology, I find this lonely exploration essential for expressing my ideas and communicating effectively with other collaborators. While for them, the body may be a different world, for me it becomes a means to understand their technological knowledge, fostering a deeper exchange between the realms of the body and technology.
In the choreographic process, I invite 3D artists who can technically design interfaces in line with my creative vision. Essentially, I am choreographing not only dancers, but also inside another virtual environment. This collaborative journey, whether with 3D artists or programmers, takes time, as in the THE DEAD CODE MUST LIVE!-project, where we embrace failures and turn them into something meaningful. These collaborations are challenging, intense technological collaborations that I find immensely rewarding. It is about tackling and overcoming challenges together in a very geeky, detailed and beautiful way. The process of collaborating with people who often operate behind a screen is a unique joy as we come together to create something meaningful.
Moreover, the working process is greatly influenced by glitchfeminism, a concept pioneered by Legacy Russell. This queerfeminist perspective, rooted in embracing and celebrating digital glitches as a form of resistance, guides our approach to challenging and disrupting traditional norms in both technology and art. The influence of glitchfeminism adds an extra layer of depth to our collaborative endeavours, shaping my creative vision and amplifying the importance of navigating the unexpected in my work.
I imagine that the realisation and implementation of your work in the existing production contexts and working structures is challenging, as the environment is very clearly oriented towards more classical forms of art production. I sense a large gap between progressive and new works and the associated practices and traditional given working structures. What do you need? How can institutions support your work?
As an artist, grappling with the intersection of technology and capitalist trends poses significant challenges. Questions arise about the accessibility of technology – who has it and who does not. Moreover, there is a broader inquiry into the purpose of technology – is it designed for artistic expression, specifically for dance and the human body? Politically, navigating this landscape transcends mere progressiveness in a digitally driven society; it becomes a statement with political implications. Some institutions leverage this dynamic for their own purposes.
It is indeed a very different process of production making, because my works are virtual productions. What is a virtual production? There is remote work; there are people behind those computers working for 24 hours. To work artistically with technology takes time and a lot of self-learning, because there is no university or anything that teaches you how to do it. I understand why many institutions do not have the space for that, still they are trying. Concerning the infrastructure, for example rehearsal space: I do not need a studio regularly. Nevertheless, I do not want to forego the possibility of using a space. I only go to the studio when it is necessary. At the very end phase of the process. There is one or two months of working remotely and testing out things at my home`s place or some place. Nevertheless, sometimes it is necessary to have both at once. To have a hybrid space where you can test out things physically and technologically. And it is crazy to bring all these computers to the studio and build your own kind of techno-centurion in a dance studio. I have to change into the technician mode because the technicians at a theatre mostly do not know how it works. As an artist, I can do that – but I do not always want to (have to) do that. Then I will go to those places where the working conditions are better. I think the question for institutions nowadays, if they want to engage with new technologies, is how they divide the cake. We need to think about new infrastructures. To create dance is no longer just done at the studio. When I talk about digital dance I do not mean streaming dance online, it is another way of dealing with digital technology. If you want to bring these developments into the theatre you also have to change the infrastructure of staff and equipment. It is not comfortable – but maybe there can be an exchange between digital artists and institutions about how to deal with it. Artists, often at the forefront of creative experimentation, can bring fresh perspectives and hands-on experiences to the table. Simultaneously, institutions can provide resources, mentorship, and structured learning environments. This collaboration creates a dynamic cultural exchange where artists and staff benefit from institutional support and access to technology resources, while institutions gain insights into cutting-edge artistic practices. This mutual learning process not only facilitates the integration of technology into artistic productions but also make easy the overall of production making of performing arts.
Digital technologies are constantly and rapidly evolving. Common knowledge here is often limited to VR glasses and motion capturing. Is there a (new) tool that is currently exciting for you? What are you particularly interested in right now?
Now I am very much focusing on and exploring the gaming communities. Technology wise I am very amazed at how everything is emerging around those gaming industries – but I am not interested to get into these industries. For me it is about socializing, about playing around with different people around the world, discovering communities, where I feel more comfortable with than in a face-to-face situation. The technology developed for gaming is very fascinating and it has so much potential in terms of movement. Right now I am experimenting a lot with vive trackers, which are game controller, you actually just hold it in the hand. The tracker sends the signals location-based. Although it triggers the virtual space, this situates the action in the physical space again. It also works with VR glasses. However, I am questioning to work with VR glasses for audiences right now. I think something more needs to develop until I buy 20 VR headsets. I never grew up with such facilities or privileged structures where you can just raise your hand and ask for 20 VR glasses. I need to be very clear about the reason. As an experience for the audience? Yes, but at the same time no, what for? I am always researching about how to make things accessible for others. Motion capture suits for example are not made for everybody. There are always two hands and two legs. For this solo, I tried to develop a motion capture suit anyone could use, anatomically speaking. And it needs to work for my artistic ideas as well. As I know about the technology, I treat the technology, as I want it to. That is very powerful. Because I have hands on technology, I can question it.
Programming and digital technology are often perceived as a context of white – “nerdy”, “brilliant” – men. Despite other historical facts. You are inspired by cyber- and queerfeminist discourses and activism and reflect on your work in the context of prevailing patriarchal and heterocolonial regimes.
Exactly because of these images of white male programmers, I am sure people do not believe that I am behind these ideas and productions when they finally see me in person. People ask if I am really doing this. It seems to be hard to connect me with an idea of leadership. I am not looking for a power position but mostly it is understood like that. For me it is important to bring some queerness into the network as it is still very heteronormative. Finding intersectional digital artists can be a difficult task, especially when seeking diverse voices and perspectives in the digital realm. The dearth of non-binary people teaching tutorials contributes to a repetitive narrative dominated by a particular demographic. The fatigue of constantly receiving guidance from a white male perspective confirms the importance of diversifying voices in the digital landscape. Visibility becomes a critical issue; the act of sharing knowledge, once acquired and these same through the web or environments, becomes a means to break down barriers. The relief of discovering a queer digital community highlights the importance of creating spaces that foster inclusion and freedom behind the screen, especially given the historical mistreatment of bodies. Many BIPOC programmers and gamers choose to go unnoticed, reflecting a valid choice in response to micro experiences of aggregation in a technocapitalist system. Actively contributing to changing this narrative is very challenging. I am concerned about the transformation of the body in digital space, which leads me to contemplate whether to represent ourselves as a “cyborg” or “cyborg ghetto person” narrating representations of our very identity. While the digital community demonstrates mutual support in finding work for each other, the challenge remains locating people with the necessary expertise, underscoring the importance of collaboration with those who recognize the cyborg-queerfeminist aspect of the work.
By navigating these complexities, the digital online holds significant potential to dismantle stereotypes and encourage a more inclusive and representative digital landscape. A “cyber ghetto persona” typically refers to an online identity or presence that is associated with a less affluent, marginalized, or subcultural context within the digital realm. The term “ghetto” in this context draws parallels to real-world urban areas with lower socio-economic status, often characterized by limited resources and opportunities. In the online space, a cyber ghetto persona may embody characteristics, styles, or interests that align with a subculture or online community perceived as less mainstream or economically privileged. It is important to note that the term “cyber ghetto persona” can carry different connotations and interpretations based on the specific context in which it is used.
Brigitte Huezo (they/them*) is post-digital choreographer, dancer and performer. They is working at the intersection of technology, gaming, 3D design, film, and fashion. Huezo studied Dance at the University of Music and Dance Cologne with the support of the DAAD and private scholarships.
The questions were posed by Lucie Ortmann.
