The annual Dutch Dance Festival (Nederlandse Dansdagen) has begun. Nicole Beutler was invited to speak during the Dutch Dance Debate on Friday afternoon, 3 October. From the beautiful setting of the Sint-Janskerk, Nicole delivered the following plea - for the future, for hope, and for the Symbiocene:
First of all: thank you for having me here.
Thank you, Lene and Stacz, for the invitation.
And thank you - all of you - for listening.
There’s a photo of me at the age of five, wearing a white tutu and holding a basket of flowers; I’m dancing ballet on a rooftop terrace in Istanbul, overlooking the Bosporus - the waterway between Europe and Asia. I didn’t know then that Istanbul was so close to Ukraine and Crimea - nor what that would mean today. I couldn’t have imagined that I would one day become a choreographer, let alone stand here speaking to you now.
The future is still open - and that is our chance.
I always work as part of a team, but today I stand here and speak as myself: I am a white woman, mother of one daughter, 56 years on this earth, born in Germany, raised in Munich and Istanbul. For more than 30 years I have lived and worked in Amsterdam, part of the experimental wing of the Dutch dance field.
After all these years, my artistic practice still feels alive because I take nothing for granted and always keep searching for what is truly necessary; because there is always something I don’t yet know; because I keep learning, continuously testing the edges of dance in a constant attempt to touch a nerve - what is at stake.
A classmate from SNDO - AHK - once said during our studies: “We are world filters.” Everything that happens in the world also happens within us; because our cells, our bodies, our brains are made of the same material.
In a time when the madness around us seems to become more and more normalised, when our values are constantly being tested, I am deeply grateful that I am even allowed to make art at all; that I am allowed to speak about art here; that I get to work with incredibly sincere, talented people - on stage and behind the scenes; that we are warm, that we have enough to eat, that we are healthy, that my family is healthy, that you are here - because you love the same thing I do.
We are all art workers, hard workers. We dedicate so much time and love to making sure that people are moved, surprised, pulled out of their comfort zones - sometimes lost, climbing, always dancing - through worlds that, when they truly hit the mark, help us to understand something about each other and about ourselves; that challenge us, maybe even irritate us, and sometimes precisely through that bring us into motion; that remind us we are one - one species: Homo sapiens, 8.2 billion people -
and each of us sees the world only through our own pair of eye sockets.
So how do we build the road to the future, together?
And the question always arises: why dance?
Shouldn’t we be doing something else - go into politics, take to the streets, engage directly where it’s needed? Can we really make the world a better place through the power of dance?
I believe we can. Because we all work with people. Because we throw our bodies and souls into the effort to remind one another of our shared humanity. Because we remind each other of the power of the body - we train being-with.
There is an urgent need for stories about the future. Only when we push away the images of fear and doom by setting strong dreams against them, do we begin to feel agency. Our brains are steered by images. We need constructive, hopeful imagination. Rebecca Solnit wrote in her 2004 book Hope in the Dark: “Go into the dark with your eyes open.”
We live in a prosperous country that subsidises the arts - a system unimaginable in many other parts of the world. Of course, even here we must keep fighting for recognition and for a more stable foundation. But it is also becoming increasingly clear that Dutch prosperity is a consequence of centuries of exploitation and colonialism; of deeply rooted Eurocentrism; of the inequality that has grown between the global North and the global South. Thankfully - and finally - these intergenerational ‘inheritances’ have, in recent years, begun to enter our shared awareness. Because recognising this inequality is essential if we are to find a new balance together. We are the same, but we do not share the same history.
The beautiful thing is: Dutch mentality is not only driven by trade, water and land, but also by creativity, cross-pollination, interdisciplinarity, out-of-the-box thinking, and a remarkable capacity to innovate quickly! It is precisely within this light-footed flexibility that our opportunity lies. Let us move forward together - towards new, fairer territories.
I believe it can be done.
Indigenous voices remind us that we are connected to everything that lives - that we are part of a community and have a role to play within it; that it’s not about who we are, but what we do for the community. And at the same time, they remind us to make space for mystery - for intuition, for the song of the heart, and for our dreams. All values that seem to have little place in our ‘enlightened’, individualistic world.
Dance can remind us.
I love dance.
Dance is the foundation.
Dance is the heartbeat, the life force.
Dance is what connects us.
Dance invites us to be, to feel, to know.
Without words. (Sometimes with words.)
Because we all have a body.
We breathe, we try things out, we feel joy, sorrow, and anger.
Anger about the state of the world. About the pain and suffering that prevail.
Anger about the fear and helplessness we feel when confronted with such violence. Because we are the Earth.
I am you. You are me.
My breath is your breath.
Can we build a healthier future together - in the dance field, on this Earth? A future in which the less loud voices are also heard? Because we practise radical listening - listening to the other, who always speaks from a different perspective, a perspective we may not immediately understand, one that sometimes challenges us, pulls us out of our comfort zone - so that we can learn from each other, change, and both grow? Two-way learning…
Let us be different - otherwise it would be unbearably dull to walk around on this planet. Let us celebrate our differences, because that is precisely what connects us. Let us - regardless of origin, age, gender, or colour - dance together and stand up for shared values.
And: “Who is the most important person in my life? The most important person is always the person who is right before you,” wrote Leo Tolstoy.
Let us work from the heart, from love, and a little less from the head. Let us dream together - beyond disciplines, divisions, borders, and nation-states. As homo sapiens - the wise human being.
Let us think symbiotically - also with the non-human world.
It’s time for the Symbiocene.
May I dream?
In my ideal world, everything would move more slowly.
We would live more in rhythm - with the seasons, with menstrual cycles.
We would fragment less, live more in community.
I dream of a future in which difference means richness,
in which the fear of scarcity is replaced by the desire to share and to care -
also for those who at first glance may seem different.
I imagine a world where we value the older, more experienced people in our field - as coaches, as wise grandmothers or grandfathers.
And now, something concrete: Dance and theatre productions should run for at least three days - or better, an entire week - in one location. So that in those few chosen cities, we can truly build an audience. So that PR teams, production managers and technicians don’t burn out. Less travel, more slowing down, more deepening of local relationships.
In every province there would be buildings proudly calling themselves Houses for Dance, Mime, Live Art & Music - with a stable foundation. Emerging artists, mid-career makers and seasoned veterans would work together, inspiring one another. There would be space for reflection, experimentation, and growth - for classes, libraries, and organic cafés. Of course, there are already organisations pursuing such visions - BAU, Theatre Utrecht, and others - but I am calling for a comprehensive, structural plan.
So that these organisations can truly evolve and grow, and radiate an energy that attracts both artists and audiences alike.
I dream of a colourful audience coming together in those houses - because they see, feel and know that now, more than ever, our bodies are at stake. In an age when AI increasingly imitates creativity, it is our physical bodies, our brains, and our capacity to love that make us unique. AI cannot breathe, feel, resonate, vibrate - nor truly think outside the box. Our creativity is our strength - and dance and live art are the future!
I dream of children of all colours dancing on the rooftops of those buildings, looking out over green, living roofs - full of curiosity and trust in their future.
And in the words of Patti Smith: “Yet I still keep thinking that something wonderful is about to happen. Maybe tomorrow.”