We are lucky in the north east to have a wonderful coast-line stretching from just below Skinningrove to a few miles north of Berwick-upon-Tweed, encompassing approximately 150 miles of stunning beaches, cliff-top paths and cycle routes. The North Sea is one of the roughest water bodies on the planet with strong and rapidly changing currents. The water is notoriously cold, even in the summer, unlike the Atlantic coast which benefits from the Gulf Stream. Imagine then the physical prowess required to perform a carefully choreographed dance in the breaking waves whilst wearing long flowing sequinned robes. This is what we encountered on the beach at King Edwards Bay, Tynemouth, as the sun was going down one evening in late August.
Grief Floats
‘Grief Floats’ is a site-specific dance performance, a ritual of protest, remembrance, and an annual communal reflection on all we have lost and continue to lose. It is a long-term project that grew out of choreographer Nadia Iftkhar’s experience of personal loss and collective silence during the Covid-19 lockdown, referencing her repeated visits to the sea to process her own grief through ritual. Working with a diverse group of dancers from Company of Others Nadia has translated the personal into the universal. The sea becomes the stage. The dancers become guardians of grief. And we, the audience, become part of a collective act of remembering. Sitting on the sand in the dying light as the nine performers moved slowly and purposefully amongst us to take their place in the sea and then begin their physical manifestation of grief was a profoundly moving experience on a par with watching the legendary Pina Bausch company decades ago.
The Company of Others face the open sea, sometimes moving in concert or in turn, mirroring the rolling waves, their arms flailing and thrashing in the water, their bodies rising and falling, trying to stay afloat. At times they remain upright, arms raised, hands outstretched, an act of divine supplication, offering themselves to the sea and the sky.
The wonderful Beccy Owen provides a live spine-tingling vocal score over an atmospheric recorded sound-track accessed through head-phones. (You can also opt for an audio description.) We found that setting the volume in order to allow the ambient sound of the beach to enter our headspace was a good strategy. The crash of waves mixed with the laughter and shrieks of nearby swimmers and occasional gulls, adding to the undulations of Beccy’s voice.
Life goes on – a cruise liner sets a course for foreign lands, windmills turn moved by the maritime breeze, sea-swimmers enjoy their regular dip, there’s a yoga class on the beach, a small boy digging in the sand with an orange plastic spade. In the midst of life we are in death.
Honouring of loss and fight for survival
This year’s manifestation of ‘Grief Floats’ has been reimagined for the world we find ourselves in today, where culture wars play out against black and brown people and those who identify as non-binary, where desperate people fleeing conflict and unsustainable lives risk their lives in an effort to reach the imagined safety of our shores. Nadia’s choice of women and non-binary performers is deliberate, making this year’s iteration an honouring of the loss and fight for survival that so many experience. In doing so the project makes an unashamed demand for a more humane and empathetic world. As Nadia herself says,
“Grief Floats is not just a performance. It is a ceremony, a protest rooted in tenderness, and a queering of what public art and performance can be.”
As well as sunset performances there are some performances at sunrise. We chose to arrive in the late afternoon as the sun moved behind the ruins of Tynemouth Priory and sudden showers spawned rainbows framing our view of the sea. Afterwards local campaign groups No To Hassockfield and Host Nation distributed leaflets and talked to audience members about their work with people seeking sanctuary.
As we were leaving a group of men who had been swimming in the sea during the performance asked us what had been going on. They were fascinated by the nature of the event and realised that they had also been part of the performance simply by participating in their regular weekly swim. This is truly dance for the masses. The hard to reach audiences are not so very far away.
