Reykjavík Grapevine - 28.08.2015, Side 20

Erna Ómarsdóttir: When I started
dancing it was just physical, just about
moving the body and training the mus-
cles and all that.
Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir: Overcom-
ing the flesh.
EÓ: At some point you start to find that
isn’t enough, especially with age. In the
beginning, it didn’t even occur to me that
dance was something that you could…
HG: Make poetry out of?
EÓ: Yeah, you were just in this kind of
show business. But then, when I was a
teenager, I saw a show at an arts festival
that sort of turned something on in me.
I started to understand that it’s possible
to use this form to express your views on
the problems in the world; that you can
use dance to take part in the conversa-
tion, so to speak. That it’s just another
way to express oneself.
HG: I was thinking about this, because
I’m in a production of ‘Billy Elliot’, and I
was never in jazz ballet or anything so I
don’t know about the body in this way—
the angles of the body, that is. And the
dance training for this role is the hard-
est thing I have ever done. I really bow
down to those who do this for a living,
because I think it’s so incredibly hard,
and I find it to be such violence.
EÓ: Yes, it is borderline sado-masoch-
istic. It’s a bit strange, what dancers
do; this training of the body and going
through the pain to get to the pleasure at
the end. It’s a great outlet, but it’s hard-
core work.
HG: It’s incredible.
EÓ: It is weird! But isn’t it just like train-
ing for a marathon?
HG: Maybe, but not really. It’s the preci-
sion in the movements that requires such
intense training. It’s more like being a
classical musician.
EÓ: Yes.
HG: In a dance like I’m doing in ‘Billy
Elliot’, or in any classical dance, there’s
no room for creativity. Except for maybe
inside of you, but there’s no room for cre-
ativity in the steps. Don’t get me wrong,
I’m a mover. I can show up and ooze en-
ergy on a dance floor. But that’s not the
same thing.
EÓ: That’s very important too, though.
I’m very fond of people who are un-
trained but who just have their own per-
sonal…
HG: Have access to something.
EÓ: Yes, because when you’ve trained a
lot it’s difficult to find something unique,
because everyone’s molded into a similar
form.
Rock me amadeus
It’s interesting how you describe
classical dance as being a strict
formula that is perhaps a bit
didactic and creatively restrictive
for the performers. You say it’s
the same for classical musicians,
but is it true also for actors? How
much freedom do you experience
within the frame of a theatre
piece?
HG: I have very rarely felt that I was on
railroad tracks. And I experience free-
dom in just stepping differently to the
ground each time I say the same sen-
tence. I experience a
lot of freedom within
the frame of the play,
but I perhaps didn’t
experience as much
freedom when I was
starting out in drama
school. That’s maybe
something that you
realise later—how to
allow yourself to ex-
pand into something
that at first seems very
simple, even constricting. Then, slowly,
you find an opening. As the years go by
I feel like I’m more and more trained in
that opening. And feeling free. And then
it’s just a question of who’s in charge,
whether they allow you to feel free or
not—whether he or she wants results im-
mediately, or senses an active explora-
tion and finds that to be interesting. And
the only time, really, that I don’t feel free
within a role is if the person directing me
is always waiting for a result. Then I feel
suffocated.
EÓ: I‘m the same when I’m working for
someone, I can’t just start with 1, 2, 3, 4,
5. I have to have time to improvise, often
for a long time.
HG: It can be difficult for whoever is act-
ing opposite me, if he or she is waiting
for a prompt or keyword, because they
often don’t come, because sometimes I
mess up the words. I always say the right
thing, though—I just often say it with
different words.
EÓ: But it means the same.
HG: In the end it means the same.
I wonder what you have to say
about the difference between
theatre, dance and music perfor-
mance, especially considering
your background in
music, Halldóra, and
your work with the
concert form in your
dancing, Erna. The
last time I inter-
viewed you, Erna,
you mentioned how
in traditional stage
performance, there
is no pause—that is to
say, everything pretty
much has to happen
one thing after the other. But in a
concert there is this sort of breath
between songs, a break.
EÓ: Yes, it was definitely freeing for me
to experience the concert form, and this
pause between songs. I love that pause,
because it’s like a window. It’s a place
where you can preach, and say all sorts
of things.
When you’re making a dance piece,
it’s usually such a hassle in a way, noth-
ing can go wrong. If you mess up the
steps it becomes this big problem. But
in the concert structure, if the song gets
messed up in some way you just start
over. And you’re allowed to do that. It’s
somehow more permissible. Maybe it’s
also because I’m a visitor when I’m using
the concert form, and then I allow myself
to break the rules and am less aware of
the taboos.
HG: I was in a rock band before I started
studying theatre, and I’ve always said
that the easiest thing in the world is be-
20 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 13 — 2015
“I say: Only women
now in the upcoming
presidential race.
There’s been a man
for twenty years, let’s
just say: Only women
can run. Isn’t that just
alright?”
Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir and Erna Ómarsdóttir are per-
formers who, although their reputations precede them,
are too busy making quality work to spend much time
bathing in the limelight. In fact, they may very well be
the kinds of creative forces that a nation takes for grant-
ed—despite them being the backbones of their respective
artistic fields.
Halldóra is an actress, director and author who has
been on contract with the Reykjavík City Theatre for
twenty years, and who has recently earned special pub-
lic favour for her straight-shooting vision of Iceland’s po-
litical future, prompting some to challenge her to run for
President in the upcoming elections. Erna is a dancer and
choreographer who—after having achieved measurable
international success (appearing in music videos for the
likes of Björk and Placebo, and collaborating with artists
such as Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Jan Fabre)—has just tak-
en up her post as the new artistic director of the Icelandic
Dance Company. The two will be collaborating on at least
one upcoming production this fall. We present to you, the
two of them in conversation.
Body
Words by Valgerður Þóroddsdóttir
Photos by Saga Sig
Talk
Two creative forces take
on new roles, prepare
to shake things up