It’s difficult to describe exactly what Dimitris Papaioannou’s work is. His stage productions are maximalist symphonies of movement. Take the 2012 work, Primal Matter, for instance, which consisted of two men — one fully nude and one in a suit — reinterpreting what forms, shapes, scenarios, and scenes could be created with just the human body and a few props. Works like The Great Tamer and Transverse Orientation exploded the stages they appeared on, incorporating imagery from the Renaissance to the Space Age, both leaving the viewer feeling as if they were seeing a whole new form of theatre. They are a far cry from the work that Papaioannou’s name is most recognised for – the opening and closing ceremonies of the Athens Olympic Games in 2004.

Now, Papaioannou returns to London’s Sadler’s Well with a new work, INK. A show that promises “hundreds of litres of water, a golden field of wheat and an octopus,” INK is a two-hander in the style of Primal Matter but remixed through the concepts of science fiction and horror. In the lead-up to opening night, we spoke to Papaioannou about his new work, how he defines his own practice, and how he feels about the Athens Olympics ceremonies twenty years later.

Barry Pierce: I’m super excited for INK, how does it feel to be returning to Sadler’s Wells?
Dimitris Papaioannou: It’s actually very emotional for me. [Former artistic director of Dance Umbrella] Emma Gladstone very recently passed away and she was the woman who insisted on having me on the programme at Dance Umbrella with Primal Matter and then insisted that I should be co-produced and presented at Sadler’s Wells. I never thought that I would find my audience there. But I did. I was not expecting such enthusiasm, but it was a very pleasant experience for me.

BP: You never thought you’d find your audience in Sadler’s Wells? Is that because there is something of a preconceived notion of what British audiences are like when it comes to work like yours?
DP: Well, I did have an idea that British contemporary dance focuses a lot more on narrative. I was expecting some discomfort with my abstract way of storytelling and my prismatic, multifaceted point of view. But also, we don’t dance. We don’t do steps. I know that the British love dance, and so they should! But I was afraid there would be an awkward reaction because you never see steps. The only major reaction was to the nudity. Of all the places I have performed the only time it has been mentioned that I “leave very little to the imagination” was in Britain. [laughs] It’s very strange.

“We don’t dance. We don’t do steps.”

BP: I think the dance landscape of Britain has changed a lot in the past twenty years. A lot of it has been down to Wayne McGregor and his work at the Royal Ballet, but also Pina Bausch was embraced here and so are you.
DP: I don’t think it’s necessary for it to change. I don’t think what I’m bringing onstage is any kind of evolution or diversion of dance itself. I’m just happy that dance festivals are broad enough that I can do the things I do. I do not feel at all like I am suggesting a new way of dance. Not at all. I’m just struggling to construct something interesting with what I can.

BP: In relation to that, what exactly does your creative process look like? Your works are so totally unique and cannot be compared to anything else, how do you actually get from the initial idea to the final work?
DP: I used to believe that I could only start working on a show if I knew what I had to do. I have done many shows like that. But whenever I didn’t know what I was going to do and I was kind of lost, it turned out that I discovered a creativity within me that I personally prefer. So now I have changed my process. I pick up some objects and some curiosities and instinctively start composing a team of people without knowing what I’m going to do, then I just embark on an endless and crazy journey of fooling around and playing and just improvising with stuff. Then I collect whatever I find interesting.

BP: What was the initial reaction when you first started creating your works?
DP: My first audiences were in a squat when we were young, and we were punks, we were kind of anarchists, and we were, of course, extremely poor. We squatted a building, transformed it with our own hands into a small theatre and started creating shows that we put so much care into that we treated the squad like it was a fucking opera. We did not struggle for an audience, once we were discovered, people were lining up for our shows. Of course, there was a lot of debate in the dance world, “This is not dance!”, but it was not a very important debate because I was in the art world, not the dance world.

BP: Do you still see yourself as someone who works in the art world rather than the dance world?
DP: I think I am a theatremaker. I’m definitely not a choreographer of bodies. I’m probably a choreographer of elements, including human bodies.

“I’m definitely not a choreographer of bodies. I’m probably a choreographer of elements, including human bodies.”

BP: I really want to know how a punk dance artist in a squat in Athens ended up creative directing the opening and closing ceremonies of the Athens Olympics.
DP: I became the establishment itself! [laughs] It’s not a new story, many people start from the underground and make a kind of success that inevitably, no matter what they do, puts them in the realm of the mainstream.

BP: It’s twenty years this summer since the Athens Olympics and you have the very rare opportunity of being someone who gets to watch each opening ceremony as someone who did one himself. So do you watch them with a critical eye?
DP: I was never a fan of Olympic ceremonies and I’ve done two. I’ve done the Athens opening ceremony which is the biggest show that can be produced on Earth and I did the first European Games in Baku. I attempted very specific things and, in the case of the Athens opening ceremony, the first thing I do is criticise myself for not going as far as I should have. Because it was so successful, that was proof that people were more than ready for something like that. I could have gone further and I could have been more proud of it now.

These are big propaganda works. They are advertisements for a nation so you cannot be critical about what you are advertising. It’s like if the culture of a nation is a product and you have to sell that product, so it is propaganda. Usually, I find the ceremonies very cheesy because they try to please everyone and they try to please all the executives the idea had to go through.

BP: So… you won’t be watching the Paris opening ceremony over the summer then?
DP: I don’t really watch them but I see the highlights. But yes, I watch out of a sick curiosity.

Dimitris Papaioannou’s INK is at Sadler’s Wells from February 28th to March 2nd