Pam Tanowitz’s latest work, Neither Drums Nor Trumpets, took place in an unusual space for the Royal Opera House. No, it wasn’t on the cavernous Main Stage, nor in the multipurpose Linbury Theatre. For two days in March, the huge glass atrium of the Hamlyn Hall, a space usually reserved for fine dining, became the Opera House’s third stage.

As part of London’s multi-venue Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels festival, Neither Drums Nor Trumpets saw Tanowitz create a site-specific piece that drew from Hamlyn Hall’s multifunctional history as a flower market, a concert hall, and even a storage space. The bright, airy venue also allowed the audience to experience the piece in, literally, a new light.

In the weeks before the premiere, when the piece was still being formed, we spoke with Pam Tanowitz about the piece’s conception, her own journey in dance, and finding comfort in being busy.

Barry Pierce: We’re a couple weeks away from the piece’s premiere, what is it looking like at the moment?
Pam Tanowitz: I’ve been working on it with my dancers in New York since September, on and off. What I have now is four sections of material that I’m going to weave together and adapt when I get to the space. It’s a flexible piece. I have ten students from the Rambert School who are going to be in it. I have an idea of what I want to do with them, but I have no idea what it’s going to be like. Two of the shows will be in broad daylight, which will give it a process feel. It’s really about being up front and close to the movement and process, more than a formal presentation.

BP: Yeah, it’s happening in a pretty unexpected spot for the Royal Opera House – Hamlyn Hall, this massive glass atrium. And with two of the performances set for midday, it just doesn’t feel very Royal Opera House at all.
PT: I really wanted it that way. It has a different feel. It’s daytime, it’s a time you’re not used to. It feels more intimate, it feels more casual, and you get to see my work up close. The last time I was here I worked with the Royal Ballet, but this time I’m here with my dancers.

“It’s good for me to be in situations where it’s hard for me to communicate. It forces me to be more articulate about what I want.”

BP: What is the difference between working with your own dancers and the Royal Ballet dancers?
PT: Well, I mean, the Royal Ballet dancers are ballet dancers. My dancers are modern dancers. And we dance barefoot, so that’s already totally different. But the way I work with dancers is the same, there’s just a different outcome based on their training and history. I’m used to my dancers, so it’s easier in some ways to communicate what I want, but it’s also good for me to be in situations where it’s hard for me to communicate. It forces me to be more articulate about what I want. 

BP: Could you tell me some of the background to the piece?
PT: The title came from what we were just talking about, it’s not a big presentation. It doesn’t have the bells and whistles you’d expect. Like all my work, it’s about the people I’m working with and the response to the site. There’s no story, per se, but I’m working with ideas of pastoral scenes, so that frames the work. And because of those big windows, you see so much of the outside, so there’s this blurring of boundaries.

BP: When I watch your works I’m always struck by the balance you find between contemporary dance and classical dance. You have a dance language that feels, to me, unique. How would you describe your style?
PT: I had a very eclectic background. When I was younger, I started in modern and jazz and then I came to ballet. When I went to college I studied the techniques of different people, everyone from [Merce] Cunningham, [Paul] Taylor and Lester Horton. Then I went to graduate school and studied with Viola Farber, who was a founding member of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company. I think that I’m attracted to clean lines and a certain technique, but also I like to disrupt it. There’s no hierarchy of steps, I’ll put a box step or step touch next to a pas de chat or a pas de cheval. I think it’s interesting to have all these different kinds of steps.

BP: I saw that you have Caroline Shaw doing the music for this piece, who you’ve worked with many times before. What makes her such an important, and frequent, collaborator?
PT: I’ve known her for a very long time, and we connected right away. We’re both very interested in history and how we can be in dialogue with that history, but in a way of homage or honouring, not as a pastiche or making fun. Her music gives space for dance. What I mean by that is that she has the concept that she’s working with but there’s always a lot of space for me to work, in terms of rhythm and tempo and things like that. Her music is also accessible in the best way, she really lets an audience in, but it’s also really smart. I mean, ten years ago I did a whole 80-minute dance to Morton Feldman’s music. People walked out. I love Morton Feldman but they were walking out. I love that kind of screechy, alienating music. But I had to take a second to say, “Wait, is this the best idea? What is this doing to my dances?” So, I don’t think I would do that again. [laughs]

“Ten years ago I did a whole 80-minute dance to Morton Feldman’s music. People walked out.”

BP: I’ve interviewed Wayne McGregor a couple of times and he often talks about being at his most comfortable when he’s extremely busy. Is that something you can relate to?
PT: I’m the same. I mean, I like having one day off, or maybe two. But I get antsy after a while. But I do have a quote, unquote day job. I teach twice a week. I’m an Assistant Professor of Professional Practice at Mason Gross School of The Arts, which is part of Rutgers University. Sometimes when I go to work I feel so tired but I actually love teaching. It keeps me grounded. It keeps me on my toes. It keeps me current!