「為何這麼匆忙：超越期待的障礙表演」 演講中英全文稿
Kong Performance Experimental Field Taiwan x In-Between France 台法連線
20250711 @ 衛武營藝術村WeR
-1400-1600pm 法國連線工作坊
「開機與關機：動作中的能量」
Online Workshop: Modo On – Modo Off : Energy In Movement
-1600-1700pm 演講
「為何這麼匆忙：超越期待的障礙表演」
Why the Rush : performing disability beyond expectation
異身體劇場2025國際交流
為何這麼匆忙：超越期待的障礙表演
原文：Maylis Arrabit
為什麼這麼急？
為什麼是今天？
我只是覺得，我需要把這些話說出口。我想把這個話題擺上檯面。我會努力保持冷靜——但我可能會緊張，我的聲音可能會顫抖……即使今天只是讀稿而已。
老實說，我原本以為讀稿會讓這一切變得更容易——對你們來說。我的意思是，對於英語不是母語的人、對聽障或重聽者來說。我不確定這對我自己是不是最容易的方式，但……嗯，我接受了這個挑戰。
現在，我腦中浮現的是小時候的我——11歲，站在全班面前，上氣不接下氣，一句話都念不出來，臉漲得通紅。那個無法直視同學、背詩時整個人被恐懼凍住的小女孩。
「嘿，Maylis……你知道嗎？
事情會變得更好。
你會習慣被人注視。其實，有一天，那會變成你的工作。
而你甚至會喜歡這種感覺——嗯，大多數時候啦。」
我今天想和大家分享的，是非常個人的內容。但這也是藝術性的，是政治性的。
這關乎在這個世界——特別是在藝術世界裡——表演「障礙」究竟意味著什麼。
P.2
——這個世界，仍然要求我們為自己的存在辯解。
我是那種一直在一種奇怪的張力中穿梭的人：既被高度看見……卻又從未真正被看見。你明白我的意思嗎？
我也想明確地在這段對話中定位自己：我是一位白人、順性別、身心障礙女性。我是舞者，也是編舞家。
我擁有一些特權：我的膚色，我在法國能夠獲得醫療與社會保障，我所受的教育，以及我身邊那些一路支持我的朋友和家人。
我承認，許多酷兒、有色人種、身心障礙的藝術家，以及來自工人階級背景的創作者，面對著我未曾經歷過的挑戰——他們的故事豐富、複雜，也在這個領域中非常重要，值得被看見，值得更多的空間。
所以，不——我不代表所有人。我無法代表，也不想代表。
這只是其中一個故事，一種觀點，我自己的。
我也想致敬障礙文化、正義與權利方面那一整個龐大的學術研究體系——它們提供了許多重要的思考框架。而我今天分享的，是來自我個人的旅程、掙扎與藝術實踐。
那麼，現在我想問你一個問題……
你是否曾覺得自己總是在趕路？
總是在試圖跟上別人的步調，即使那根本不適合你？
你有沒有覺得自己被逼著去「表現」——在你不想笑的時候被迫微笑，在身體已經大聲抗議「不、不、不——絕對不行！」的時候，卻還要快速移動？
我一生中很多時候都有這種感覺。
尤其是 2020 年，COVID 封城過後。
當一切都停了下來，當大多數人陷入恐慌時——我卻感覺到一種奇異的情緒：如釋重負。
P.3
突然間，這個世界以我的節奏在運轉。我不再覺得自己遲到。我開始理解那種孤立感，無法離開家的感覺。
我得承認——那時我有一點復仇的心態。
聽起來就像是：“歡迎來到我們的生活。這就是我們的經歷。我們掌控了這一切。現在你們會明白自由的代價——你們會明白被困住的感覺，明白無法進入公共空間是什麼樣的。”
我當時也有一點希望……希望這會改變人們對地球的關心，也會改變他們對我們的看法。
結果我錯了——顯然。
資本主義總是最終獲勝。
當一切「回到正常」時，這種感覺又一次襲來。
壓力。
對準時的壓力。
對生產力的壓力。
對「正常運作」的壓力。
就像……又來了。
人們聚會，沒戴口罩，也不小心。
我聽到有些人說：“如果你怕死，就待在家裡。”
不關心。
什麼都沒變。
我的意思是——老實說——我的生活一開始就充滿了這種急迫感——
我出生時早產，足足提前了三個月。
P.4
「總是在追趕」
總是在追趕。
總是落後。
諷刺吧？
我們為了讓別人舒服而表演。
帶著痛苦微笑。
筋疲力盡還說「我沒事」。
只是慢了下來——卻因此感到內疚。
對我們身障者來說，這是每天的生活。
我們總是被期待扮演兩種角色之一：
不是那個「可憐的人」，飽受痛苦；
就是那個「超級英雄」，克服一切、激勵眾人。
而中間地帶根本不存在。
沒有空間可以混亂、幽默、難過或複雜。
沒有空間可以單純「成為一個人」。
這些角色，並不是我們自己選的。
而是來自一個崇尚生產力、速度與表現的世界。
而身心障礙，正是對這一切的干擾與挑戰。
在資本主義社會裡，人們被區分為「努力工作的人」和那些被視為比較沒「用處」的人。
而身障者，常常被不公平地放進兩個對立的框架裡：
要嘛是「好身障者」，努力符合健全人的標準；
要嘛就是「壞身障者」，被視為不夠努力，或只是被當作可憐的慈善對象。
P. 5
我一直活在這樣的拉扯中。
曾經，我渴望融入那種「正常女人」的模子——成為所謂的成功者。
但隨著時間過去，我才漸漸明白，那些渴望，其實是來自外界對我的不切實際的期待——
而往往忽略了我真正的渴望、需求，還有對自己的接納。
所有這些虛構的幻想——來自資本主義、健全主義、以及非障礙者的目光——
都試圖把我們從「他們」之中分離出來。
因為他們不想我們變得像他們，
更重要的是，他們根本不想變成像我們這樣的人。絕對不行！
這種結構無所不在——主流文化裡如此，舞台上更是。
我們被期待去扮演某種角色，讓人們在看我們的時候感到舒服——
這樣他們就能安心享受，不用質疑任何社會或政治的問題……
讓我講一個小故事。
2022 年，我在愛丁堡演出我的作品《冰河時代》（Ice Age）。
那是一齣安靜卻非常有力的作品。節奏緩慢……但敘事強烈。
它講的是「存在」、「角色」，而不是「炫技」。
有一天，我在場館外的街上發傳單。
一位女士走過來，對我說：
「我是來自法國的包容性舞蹈評論家。我昨天看了你的作品。」
她其實不太喜歡那部作品，甚至也沒有真正理解——那也沒關係。
但接著她說了一句話：
「可惜你沒有展現你的全部潛能。」
P.6
我的心當下……沉了下去。
什麼叫做「全部潛能」？
誰來決定，那應該是什麼樣子？
那不只是對這齣作品的批評，
更是對我這個表演者本身的批評。
對我的動作選擇、
對我的節奏、
對我的專業態度，
通通都是質疑。
雖然這讓我非常難過，
但我並不感到意外。
我知道，即使在所謂專業的「共融」空間——甚至是在由身障者主導的場域中——
那些能夠接近健全人標準的身障表演者：
例如動作幅度、節奏掌握、體力耐力等等，
仍然是最有可能獲得工作機會的那群人。
而其他人，依然承受著無形的壓力：
要變得更像「他們」。
要更快、
要更好。
是的，情況確實有一點點改善——但這種期待依然存在。
在這樣的框架下，一支長達 20 分鐘的慢動作獨舞，
不會被看作一種「表演」。
即便，那段對我來說，是整齣作品中最艱難的部分。
那需要我從大腦到身體極度精準地控制，
花了無數個小時練習那種流動、不間斷、平靜的節奏……
在腎上腺素飆升的狀態下，還要讓臉保持中性不動。
那就是我的全部潛能。
在那個時刻。
就在那裡。
P.7
有多少非障礙者表演者做慢動作、極簡風格的演出，
就被讚譽為激進、創新、前衛？
而當我們身障者做這樣的表演時，
卻被視為只是達到「基本水準」，
好像我們根本撐不起「專業舞台」。
那句話一直留在我心裡。
於是我開始思考：
這種對「潛能」的執著，對「進步」的執著，
對「要不斷做得更多」的執著……
不只是出現在舞蹈圈。
它無所不在。
這就是資本主義。
這就是健全主義。
它們交織在一起。
這個觀念告訴我們：
如果你沒有生產價值，你就是沒有價值；
如果你沒有在「進步」，你就是在「失敗」。
而身障者，永遠都被這樣衡量。
永遠都要「追趕上進度」。
永遠都要合理化自己的存在。
永遠都要解釋、證明自己的價值。
而當我們不這麼做？
我們就會被當成負擔。
更糟的是——我們會變得不可見。
但現在，事情正在改變。
越來越多身障藝術家正在說出：「不。」
不，我們不會再趕著追上誰的節奏。
不，我們不會只為了讓非障礙觀眾感到舒服而演出。
P.8
不，我們不會迎合你們的框架。
我們要用我們自己的方式創作。
讓我告訴你幾位我非常敬佩的藝術家。
Claire Cunningham 拒絕那種要「克服障礙」的壓力。
在《Guide Gods》這部作品中，她以拐杖編舞——不是當作道具，而是作為她身體的延伸、她的舞伴。
她的動作是深思熟慮的，根植於「障礙時間」（crip time）與神學之中。
而在《Thank You Very Much》中，整個空間為表演者與觀眾一同調整：
中場休息是被歡迎的——在舞台上也是，在觀眾席上也是。
那是一種將「無障礙」作為關照與氛圍的空間實踐。
Alice Sheppard 和 Kinetic Light 帶來另一種能量——
視覺上震撼、技術上複雜，作品核心圍繞著互依。
從震動座椅、語音描述，每個細節都內建著「無障礙」概念：
不是事後補救，而是從設計開始就已融入其中。
她重新定義了「美」、「風險」與「合作」。
對她來說，無障礙不是「便利措施」，而是整體架構。
Stopgap Dance Company 展現出共融舞蹈團隊如何在主流文化中被廣泛認可的同時，持續進化。
他們的最新長篇作品《Lived Fiction》，把「無障礙」放在創作核心。
這部作品詩意、細膩、並邀請所有人進入。
字幕、語音描述等元素不是後來加上去的輔助工具，而是藝術美學的一部分。
無障礙就是藝術本身。
Jess Thom（又名 Touretteshero）則用她的神經多樣性來改造表演的形式。
在《Backstage in Biscuit Land》裡，她的抽動症狀（tic）成為敘事主軸。
她的作品證明了一件事：無障礙不是修正，而是創造力的來源。
P.9
不過，Jess 最近被迫辭去她所領導的團隊職位——
因為英國政府削減了對「無障礙工作人員」（access workers）的資助。
英國曾是身障主導藝術的領頭羊，
但現在的政策轉向，正讓多年來的進展岌岌可危。
同樣的事，也正在美國發生。
我要說清楚：
這些來自身障藝術家的顛覆性創作，必須要有政策與資助機構的支持，才能真正發生。
如果沒有對藝術家自主性的支持，
我們根本無法在專業領域中生存。
在法國，我們經常被文化部門和社會福利部門推來推去——
兩邊都不願意真正支持我們。
目前，幾乎只有以社區為基礎的共融藝術還能獲得資助。
我知道，為了繼續創作，我勢必要做出某些妥協。
但也有例外。
一些當代藝術駐村計畫與場館，開始為以障礙經驗為核心的創作打開大門。
有些獨立藝術家，比如 No Anger，
就因為極具力量與政治性的作品而獲得更高的能見度與發展機會。
看到這樣的改變出現在自己的國家，我真的很開心。
像 Claire、Jess、Perel 還有許多藝術家——包括我自己，
我們早已不是為了「打動觀眾」而表演了。
我們是為了以我們自己的方式存在。
為了慢下來、
為了將關懷與連結放在中心位置，
為了擁抱那種複雜性。
我呼籲一種新的藝術價值觀：
重視彈性的時間、錯位的節奏、無障礙的結構、水平式的參與、關懷的實踐，
以及對僵硬規範的拒絕。
我並不是反對學院式的「精湛技藝」，
但我也希望，不同身體狀態的表現形式，
能在專業領域中被同等看重與讚賞。
當我剛開始從事創作時，
其實只是單純在舞蹈教室裡和兩位我喜歡的舞者探索動作——
一位是身障者，一位不是。
後來，這樣的探索成為了一支作品。
巡演這支作品的過程讓我開始反思：
那些原本憑直覺做出的選擇，
竟然也能轉化為清晰的分析與語言。
《HQPC》講述了一個——
P.10
這是一個簡單、可親近的故事——
不是在炫耀技巧，而是關於角色、關係與連結。
我最重視的，永遠是身障表演者的舒適感與主體性。
能夠在舞台上感到自在，那本身就是一種力量——
因為那不是這個社會對我們的期待。
觀眾的回饋證實了舞者之間的連結，
也說這部作品「很容易理解、跟得上」。
我常常笑著回應：「我只是編了一支連我自己的大腦都跟得上的作品啦。」
那時我總是坐在觀眾席前排，自己最熟悉的位置。
而這一點——
也是作為身障編舞者的實踐方式之一。
我們從不同的位置創作，無論是字面上還是隱喻上。
在《Ice Age》這部作品中，我與**張忠安（Chung An Chang）**共同擔任編創。
我曾經很掙扎，要在壓力下把腦中的畫面轉化成動作。
但忠安幫我一起塑造整體，放下自我，
作為一位同行藝術家，讓我得以汲取他的經驗。
他教會我「互依」的價值，
也提醒我：我不必永遠都能即時產出。
這次創作過程也讓我深刻理解：
我們必須非常謹慎地對待障礙如何被呈現。
即使不以字面方式表達，我們仍需思考作品的影響力。
身障經驗永遠具有政治性。
我們的再現，要嘛延續主流敘事，要嘛打破它。
我們必須準備好進行艱難的對話，並願意調整創作。
在我的舞蹈影像作品《紅鞋》（Les Chaussures Rouges）中，
我向我曾經使用的輪椅致敬。
那個常被視為「悲劇象徵」的東西，
在作品中成為美麗、詩意、如同人生伴侶般的存在。
這支作品的編舞是緩慢的、以身體語言為主、極簡而情感飽滿。
其中有一句台詞：
「當我想到他們竟然覺得你是人生中最糟的事，
我反而為他們感到難過。」
P.12
那麼，如果我們移動得更慢，會是什麼樣子？
如果我們把關懷放在中心呢？
如果我們放下控制，會發生什麼？
讓我以幾個邀請作為結尾：
請支持身障藝術家——尤其是那些讓你感到不安、讓你重新思考的人。
不只是「包容」我們，請讓我們參與空間的塑造。
請質疑你對生產力與效率的執著。
試著讓自己以直覺行動。
檢視你的目光。
你正在看誰？你是怎麼看？為什麼看？
你能承受哪怕一點點的不舒服嗎？
當身障者每天都活在不舒服之中。
身障不是悲劇。也不是奇蹟。
它就是——生命。
我們不是為了讓你受到啟發而存在。
我們不是你的人生課題或改造計畫。
我們在你身邊——互相依存，不論你是否願意接受。
我們在這裡。活著。愛著。創造著。
而我們——已經不想再等了。
我們要改變。
謝謝你。
P.13
關鍵概念 Key Concepts to Keep Exploring
🌟推薦藝術家與資源
Alice Sheppard / Kinetic Light
https://kineticlight.org/Claire Cunningham
https://www.clairecunningham.co.uk/Jess Thom / Touretteshero
https://nadp-uk.org/about-nadp/nadp-people/jess-thom/Stopgap Dance Company
https://www.stopgapdance.com/Maylis 作品精華（Showreel）
https://youtu.be/FwB1fhxi3Sk
Why the Rush : performing disability beyond expectation
Original text by Maylis Arrabit - polished and corrected by Chat GPT. (english is not my first language)
(40 minutes lecture)
Why the rush?
Why today?
I just feel like I need to speak this out loud. I want to bring this subject to the table. I’ll try to stay calm — but I might get nervous, my voice might shake… even if I’m just reading to you today.
Honestly, I thought reading would make it easier — for you. I mean, for non-native English speakers, for Deaf or hard-of-hearing people. I’m not sure it’s the most accessible for me, but… well, I accepted the challenge.
Right now, I’m thinking of little me — 11 years old, standing in front of the class, out of breath, unable to read one sentence without turning red. The one who couldn’t look at her classmates while reciting a poem. Completely blocked by fear.
“Hey, Maylis… you know what?
It gets better.
You’ll get used to people watching you. Actually, one day, it will be your job.
And you’ll even like it — well, most of the time.”
What I’m sharing with you all today is personal. But it’s also artistic. It’s political.
It’s about what it means to perform disability in a world — especially in the art world — that still asks us to justify our existence.
I’m someone who’s always navigating this weird tension between being so visible… and still not fully seen. Do you know what I mean?
Also, I want to position myself in this conversation: I speak as a white, cisgender, disabled woman. I’m a dancer and a choreographer.
I have privileges. My skin color. My access to healthcare and social security in France. My education. My incredible friends and family who have supported me all the way.
I acknowledge that many queer, disabled artists of color, and working-class artists face challenges I don’t — and that their stories are rich, complex, and important in the field and deserve more space.
So no — I don’t represent everyone. I cannot and I don’t want to.
This is just one story. One point of view. My own.
I also want to acknowledge that there is a vast body of academic work on disability culture, justice, and rights that provides important frameworks. What I share comes from my own journey, my struggles, and my artistic practice.
So now, let me ask you something…
Have you ever felt like you were rushing all the time?
Trying to keep up with others, even when it didn’t feel right for you?
Have you felt pushed to perform — to smile when you didn’t want to, to move fast when your body was saying no, no, no — hell no?
I’ve felt that a lot in my life. Especially after the COVID lockdown, in 2020.
When everything stopped, and most people panicked — I felt something strange: relief.
Like suddenly, the world was moving at my pace. I wasn’t late anymore. And I knew the feeling of isolation, of not being able to leave the house.
I have to admit — there was a little sense of revenge.
It sounded like: “Welcome to our lives. This is what we experience. We master this. Now you'll realize the price of freedom — you’ll understand what it is to feel stuck, to not be allowed in public spaces.”
I also had hope… that this would shift how people care about the planet, and about us, afterwards.
I was wrong — obviously.
Capitalism always wins.
And when things went “back to normal,” it hit me again.
The pressure.
The stress to be on time.
To be productive.
To function.
It was like… here we go again.
People partying, not wearing masks, not being careful.
I heard some people say: “If you’re scared for your life, just stay home.”
Not caring.
Nothing changed.
I mean — to be honest — my life started with this kind of rush —
I was born three months early.
And since then, always catching up. Always behind.
The irony, right?
And then there’s this thing… performing for other people’s comfort. You know what I mean?
You’re in pain, but you smile.
You’re exhausted, but you say, “I’m fine.”
You slow down — but feel guilty for it.
As disabled people, this is our daily life.
We are always expected to play one of two roles:
Either the “poor thing,” the one who suffers…
Or the superhero, the one who “overcomes” everything and inspires everyone.
Nothing in between.
No space to be messy, funny, sad, or complicated.
To just be human.
These roles — they’re not from us.
They come from a world obsessed with productivity, speed, and performance.
Disability messes with all that.
In capitalist society, people tend to be divided into those who work hard and those seen as less “useful.” Disabled people are often unfairly placed into binaries of the “good disabled” — who push to meet able-bodied norms — and the “bad disabled,” who are seen as not trying hard enough, or simply as objects of pity and charity.
I’ve lived with this tension.
I once longed to fit the “normal woman” mold — to be successful.
But over time, I learned that those ambitions were rooted in unrealistic expectations from the outside — and often ignored my real wants, needs, and self-acceptance.
All this imaginary created around us by capitalism, ableism and by the gaze of non-disabled people, tries to separate us from them.
Because, they don’t want us to be like them and even more, they don’t want to be like us. No way!
It’s present in mainstream culture, and therefore expected on stage.
We are expected to pursue these roles, to make people feel comfortable with us — so they can enjoy themselves without having to question anything… socially or politically…
Let me tell you a little story.
In 2022, I was performing my piece Ice Age in Edinburgh.
It’s a quiet but very powerful piece. It moves slowly… and has a strong narrative. It’s about presence, character, and not spectacle.
One day, I’m handing out flyers in the street in front of the venue. A woman comes up to me and says:
“I’m an inclusive dance critic from France. I saw your piece yesterday.”
She didn’t really like the piece or even understand anything from it — which is okay.
Then she said:
“Too bad you’re not showing your full potential.”
My heart just… dropped.
What does that mean — “full potential”?
Who decides what that looks like?
It wasn’t just a critique of the piece.
It was a critique of me as a performer.
My movement choices.
My pace.
My professionalism.
And even though it made me very upset, I wasn’t surprised.
I know that even in professional “inclusive” spaces — or even disabled-led spaces — disabled performers who can reach able-bodied standards in terms of movement, timing, and stamina are still the ones who get the most job opportunities.
The pressure for the others is still there:
To be more like them.
To be faster.
To be better.
YES, It’s getting better — but it is still there.
With these expectations in mind, a 20-minute slow motion solo isn’t seen as a performance — even if it was one of the most challenging parts of the piece for me.
The level of control it required from my brain and body… the hours I spent finding that fluid, continuing, calm pace… to keep my face neutral while running on adrenaline…That was my full potential. At that time. Right there.
How many non-disabled performers do slow and minimalist performances and are praised for it — for being radical, innovative — while when we do it, it’s seen as the bare minimum, as if we’re not strong enough for the professional stage?
This comment stayed with me.
And I started thinking : this obsession with potential, with improving, with always doing more…
It’s not just in the dance world.
It’s everywhere.
It’s capitalism.
It’s ableism.
It’s at the intersection.
This idea that if you’re not producing, you’re worthless.
If you’re not improving, you’re failing.
Disabled people are always measured like that.
Always needing to “catch up.”
To justify.
To explain.
And if we don’t?
We become burdens.
Or worse — invisible.
But something is changing.
More and more disabled artists are saying: No.
No, we won’t rush.
No, we won’t perform only for non-disabled people’s enjoyment comfort.
No, we won’t fit your frame.
We are creating on our own terms.
Let me tell you about some artists I deeply admire.
Claire Cunningham resists the pressure to “overcome” disability. In Guide Gods, she choreographs with her crutches — not as props, but as extensions of her body and partners. Her movement is deliberate, rooted in crip time and theology. In Thank You Very Much, the space adapts to dancers and audience alike: breaks are welcome on and off stage , people can come and go — it’s access as care and atmosphere.
Alice Sheppard and Kinetic Light offer a different energy — visually striking, technically complex work built around interdependence. Access is designed into every layer: vibrating seats, audio description — not added on, but embedded. She redefines beauty, risk, and collaboration. Access isn’t accommodation — it’s architecture.
Stopgap Dance Company is showing how established inclusive companies, whose work is widely recognised by mainstream culture can evolve. Their latest full length piece Lived Fiction puts access at the heart of creation. It’s poetic, thoughtful, and invites everyone in. Subtitles, audio description — all part of the aesthetic, not just accommodation. Access becomes art.
Jess Thom (aka Touretteshero) uses her neurodivergence to reshape performance. In Backstage in Biscuit Land, her tics drive the narrative. Her work proves that access is generative, not corrective.
However Jess had to quit leading her company recently due to UK cuts in funding for access workers. When the UK has been a leader in disabled-led art, these policy shifts risk erasing years of progress. The same is happening in the USA.
But let me be clear : This disrupting art work from disabled artists can only happen when policies and funders support disabled artists’ autonomy. Without that, we can’t survive professionally.
In France, we’re constantly pushed between culture and social departments — neither wants to fund us. Right now, community based is almost the only inclusive work getting funded in France. I know I’ll have to make compromises to keep creating.
There are exceptions in contemporary art residencies and venues that seem to open more doors to disabled art centered work and some solo artists like No Anger get to have more visibility and opportunities to grow with very powerful and political work. It makes me very happy to see these shifts in my country .
Artists like Claire, Jess, Perel and many more, myself included, aren’t performing to impress anymore. We’re performing to exist on our terms. To slow down. To center care and connection. To embrace complexity.
I call for art that values flexible time, mistiming, access, horizontal participation, care and a refusal of rigid norms. I’m not against academic virtuosity, but I also want different kinds of embodiment to be equally praised in professional spaces.
When I began my career, I was simply exploring movement in a studio with two dancers I liked — one disabled, one not. That turned into a piece. Touring it made me reflect. What felt intuitive became something I could analyze. HQPC told a simple, accessible story — not about showing off technique, but about characters, relationships, and connection. My priority is always the comfort and agency of disabled performers. There’s power in being at ease on stage — because that’s not what’s expected of us.
Audience feedback affirmed the dancers’ connection and how “easy to follow” the piece was. I’d laugh and say I made it simple for my brain to follow — from my usual spot in the front row. That, too, is part of being a disabled choreographer. We create from different places, literally and figuratively.
In Ice Age, I co-led with Chung An Chang. I struggled to translate vision into movement under pressure. But Chung An helped shape it, putting his ego on the side to help a fellow artist, and let me benefit from his experience. That taught me the value of interdependence — and reminded me I can’t always produce on demand.
This creation process also showed me how careful we must be with how disability is portrayed. Even without being literal, we must consider the impact. Disability is always political. Our representations can either reinforce or disrupt dominant narratives. We must be ready for hard conversations and make changes.
In my dance film Les Chaussures Rouges, I pay tribute to my old wheelchair. Something often seen as tragic becomes beautiful, poetic — a life partner. The choreography is slow, gestural, minimalist and grounded in emotion. There’s a line:
“When I think that they imagine you’re the worst thing that could ever happen to them, I feel sorry for them.”
For me, it’s the most important part of this work. That flips the gaze. It rejects pity — and turns it back on the viewer.
Early feedback tells me people felt emotions they didn’t expect — grief, gratitude, recognition. That’s what I want: connection beyond the surface.
Now, I’m working with I-Lien Ho on Rubato, a project embracing slowness, flexible time, fast speech, stimming, repetition, what can be perceived as mistiming — all as creative tools. We’re exploring inclusivity through different cultural lenses, but with a shared goal: shifting performance norms.
Still, I have to say: I’ve been reluctant to create a brand new dance piece. The pressure, expectations, and lack of resources weigh on me. I fear not being good enough. I’ve been tired in advance. Lazy, even. And I feel guilty about it.
“When’s your next piece? They ask
And I say: Tomorrow. Maybe.
Wait a minute : Wasn’t I the one questioning performance outside of productivity? Questioning what is success? Really Maylis? What are you doing ?
the pot calling the kettle black (paradoxe: to be in the same situation and make fun of)
So now, I ask you:
What stories do you carry about disability?
What do you expect — even unconsciously — from disabled artists?
And in your own life…
What would it look like to move slower?
To center care?
To release control?
Let me leave you with a few invitations:
Support disabled artists — especially the ones who challenge you.
Don’t just include us. Let us shape the space.
Question your obsession with productivity. efficiency. Let yourself move intuitively.
Check your gaze.
Who are you watching? How are you watching? And why? Can you handle being uncomfortable — even briefly —
When disabled people live with discomfort every day?
Disability is not a tragedy. And it’s not a miracle either.
It’s life.
We’re not here to inspire you.
We’re not your project.
We’re beside you — interdependent — wheter you like it or not .
We are here. Living. Loving. Creating.
And we’re tired of waiting.
We want change.
Thank you.
SOURCES
Alice Sheppard - Kinetic Light https://kineticlight.org/
Claire Cunningham https://www.clairecunningham.co.uk/
Jess Thom https://nadp-uk.org/about-nadp/nadp-people/jess-thom/
Perel https://www.perelstudio.xyz/
Stopgap Dance Company https://www.stopgapdance.com
Maylis’ Showreel https://youtu.be/FwB1fhxi3Sk
KEY CONCEPTS TO KEEP EXPLORING
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