Saskia Globig

Born: Weekhawken, NJ — 1997 / Living: Philadelphia, PA

Interview by Speciwomen — December 2016

Speciwomen: Tell us about yourself.

Saskia Globig: I am from Weehawken, New Jersey. I attended high school in Manhattan, where I had the opportunity to be included in new dance works, as well as receive a foundation in ballet and work on choreography of my own. I currently attend Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, where I am an American History and Studio Art major. I’m a member of Vassar Repertory Dance Theater and the tap dancing ensemble Vassar On Tap, as well as participating in student dance-theater projects. I really can’t not dance – I dance down the street with my friends regardless of who else is watching! I’m a nineteen-year-old college sophomore.

S: How did you get into dance?

SG: I took ballet when I was two or three years old like almost every little girl in the U.S., but I entered my first semi-serious ballet school when I was six. A doctor recommended that I take dance to develop my turnout, as I have misaligned leg bones and flat feet – and this has in fact been a struggle throughout my dance career. But ballet was fascinating to me, and after a brief stint attempting to be a figure skater, which ended anticlimactically, I returned to dance and found I wanted to branch out into modern. I joined the Peridance Capezio Center’s Youth Ensemble in high school. As I became somewhat disillusioned with ballet there, I enjoyed working with choreographers to stage new work and I became more involved in my high school’s choreography program. Out of that experience I enrolled in both the Martha Graham School and in Ellen Robbins’s Young Choreographers program, where I and a small group of girls created our own pieces. Numerous dance intensives, including Gaga and Shen Wei Dance Arts, have cemented my interest in experimental movement research techniques.

S: Who inspires you?

SG: Pina Bausch is without a doubt one of my greatest role models. Her capacity for emotional expression and innovative movement was astounding, and I appreciate the range of gravitas and humor and a touch of the absurd in her work. I look to Martha Graham for similar reasons, as well as for the deceptive simplicity and subtle power of her technique. Camille A. Brown is, to me, a powerhouse combination of thought-provoking steps and multimedia materials. She is my biggest inspiration for tap and the potential to explore the politics of identity in dance. More recently, I’ve been interested in Gabrielle Revlock’s work; she graduated from Vassar and in her movements I recognize the evolution of technique I’m learning from faculty here now.

Besides these famous figures, the girls I’ve danced with never fail to surprise me with their wit and skill in movement.

S: How do you kick the nerves before a show?

SG: I do lots of swings, throwing my arms and torso forward and up and to the sides with an easy bounce in my legs, sometimes with jumps in between. This helps me feel free with a balance of release and control in my body.

S: In your opinion, what’s the most common misconception about dance?

SG: Many people choreograph dances based solely on musicality and pleasing aesthetics, and while I think such work can be enjoyable to both perform and see, I disagree with claims that dance can mean nothing more than its appearance – it doesn’t have to just be “pretty.” I believe all dance is political based on its history, setting, context, and the identities of the bodies performing. Effective dance in my opinion is pleasing because it is thought-provoking, whether that’s because of its movement patterns or explicit political content; but there is always implicit political-emotional content. For instance, a ballet like Swan Lake appears at first to be a simple story of conflict and love, performed with delicate dexterity; but on closer inspection, it carries the history of the racially-exclusive, rigidly gendered ballet world. In comparison, a piece by Ohad Naharin’s Minus 16 investigates the labor of dance, as well as relationships between men and women on stage, and the basic concept of repetition – all while laughing at itself and literally bringing the audience into the movement.

S: What is it about movement that allows you to express yourself better than other art forms?

SG: My relationship to dance is linked to my work as a visual artist. I’m sometimes frustrated when I cannot execute a drawing, painting, or print the way I’d like because I have not developed the skills. But when I dance, my awareness and knowledge of my own body allow for a greater sense of control and artistic choice. I can manipulate the quality of my motion from fluid to jagged, small to expansive, to best fulfill the choreography I’m learning or creating. Of course I also strive to develop my technique in dance, but even in that aspect I am more constantly aware of my capabilities and potential. Regardless, I enjoy accessing the pure physical connection to emotion through movement, forming a mental and physical channel that runs both ways inside myself and between myself and audience members. I’m also interested in choreographing pieces about femininity – from a Rite of Spring featuring twerking to a contemporary piece with nude bodysuit costumes – and my own identity as a white girl figures into how I move and think.

S: Thus far, what have been your biggest obstacles as a dancer?

SG: In high school, I struggled with eating disorders as a result of the ideals of ballet. I’m tall for the dance world, so I felt clunky and it was painful for me to compare myself in the mirror to other dancers. I was often frustrated: with a lack of food fuel, I was too tired to dance fully and improve my technique. I grappled with how to balance the image of the thin ballerina with building physical strength. Now, I see the beauty in all body types in dance, but it took teetering on the edge of crisis before I could enter less competitive, experimental dance communities and be exposed to the idea of potential in my body as it is naturally.