Marco Goecke

Alessandra LA BELLA

DANCER WITH HANNOVER BALLET

When my dear friend and colleague Robert asked me to write something about Marco I was very excited, but at the same time, I wondered, How could I, in a few words, talk about a man who most of the time is a complete mystery to me?

That’s Marco’s magic I guess. His superpower. His ability to have you transported in a different dimension without fully knowing how it happened. It's like you get to Berlin from Hannover, but somehow you have no idea, or can’t quite recall how you got there. I tell you, magic.

What’s most striking to me is his gift of sight: the capacity to really “see” you in a way that goes beyond you and your body. Instead, he goes much deeper, to a place that often you didn’t know existed in your heart. And once he’s there he opens all the doors, and then there you are, naked but free. I find this to be his starting point, from that moment on the journey begins.

It’s all about the atmosphere: the light, the shadows, the afterthoughts, the unspoken words, and the whispers. It’s about people and the capacity to find light even in the darkest corner of your mind. It’s about redemption and above all hope. I find his work to be extremely hopeful. Despite the sometimes very obscure themes and elements he uses, I never get the feeling that there’s no hope. I can always feel the silver lining on my skin. It’s about communication. After all, that's why we dance, that's why we create. Marco’s work has an honesty that I sometimes find almost brutal: every movement, breath, and look comes from a place that's very real, it exists, and not only in our imagination. It’s physical, bloody, and fleshy.

I find Marco’s movement language to be very personal on different levels. First of all, it is extremely personal to Marco himself: he managed, in my opinion, to create an incredibly unique, complex, and individual point of view in times where the real challenge is to be innovative. What he created goes beyond dance and steps. It is a new world and way to create and therefore, to move. The choreography, the dancer, the light, the costumes, the makeup, all these elements meet together to form a place, a dimension, all in service to a story and an emotion.

Second of all, the language of Marco’s movement is super personal to the dancer. When in front of him you feel like anything can happen: everything Marco is about to show you can be translated on a physical level in multiple ways. His propositions are infinite, as is your understanding of them. It works almost like a translation and every dancer will have a slightly different reaction to what Marco shows. That’s why working with him has been the most personal and rewarding creative process I’ve ever had the opportunity to be involved in.

The atmosphere during a rehearsal with Marco can go from the most intimate and quiet to the loudest, most fun, and open. I love this about him, this openness and spontaneity. At the end of the day, we can be dancers, choreographers, artists, but the truth is that we are people, with skin, legs, arms, feelings, and ambitions. And that's how Marco treats you, as a person. And he wants, almost demands, that person to come out. He’s interested in personality, in individuality, in opinions, in seeing the strength and fragility that we all have inside of us.

“When I’m on stage performing Marco’s work, my senses are at their highest level of concentration. It’s not only my body moving, there is a deep emotional commitment that goes beyond simply “moving in space”. It’s poetic, it’s almost like a secret that’s quietly being shared between dancers and the audience.”

When I’m on stage performing Marco’s work, my senses are at their highest level of concentration. It’s not only my body moving, there is a deep emotional commitment that goes beyond simply “moving in space”. It’s poetic, it’s almost like a secret that’s quietly being shared between dancers and the audience. With Marco’s work you know there is no holding back, there can’t be any doubts or fear. You just have to go for the experience in the most full and authentic possible way. Also, you have no time. You just don’t have the time to think too much, to predict too much, to worry too much. The speed and precision required is so intense that you simply need to trust the process, and just give, give all there is.

Mikaela KELLY

DANCER WITH NEDERLANDS DANS THEATER

For each piece he creates, Marco’s process is incredibly unpredictable and often takes until the very last days before the premiere to reveal itself. When you work with him he requires a remarkable speed, so you have little time to make decisions. You have no choice but to go on instinct. Each movement that you create and split-second choice that you make will stay relatively unchanged by Marco throughout the process, so it can feel like every moment of the creation process is important because things become permanent very quickly. The way he builds material is intimate as he stands or sits directly in front of you, just a meter away. Often working with only one or two dancers at a time, he slowly creates solos and duos, with some bits and pieces eventually being worked into larger group sections. There is an intense physicality that Marco’s work requires, often pushing you past your limit of exhaustion multiple times in a single rehearsal. Many movements have to be so crisp and so fast that if a spectator were to blink, they would miss them. The explosive power required of your body is unique to Marco’s vocabulary and each artist is given the freedom to approach it differently. You might be working on a three-minute solo that consists of long sequences of precise, expansive arm movements and deliberate tension in the upper body, all of which are strung together at an impossible speed. While that three-minute solo will only be performed once during a piece, you will dance it many times in a single rehearsal.

“There is an intense physicality that Marco’s work requires, often pushing you past your limit of exhaustion multiple times in a single rehearsal. Many movements have to be so crisp and so fast that if a spectator were to blink, they would miss them.”

With each attempt, you try to explore new dynamic ranges, emotionally and physically accessing parts of yourself that you hadn’t known were even there to find. Three minutes feels more like ten minutes when your lungs are burning and your stamina has left you, but the only choice is to keep fighting as your arms feel limp, your back is aching and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You fight because Marco won’t have it any other way, you fight to surpass your physical limits, your comfort zone, and you fight to keep going because it feels cathartic to push everything out of your body, essentially digging up and pouring out emotions, anxieties, demons, passions, and fears. There is a moment during the process, sometimes very close to the premiere, where that three-minute solo that previously felt like an enormous mountain to be climbed begins to feel surmountable. Any previous trepidation leaves you and the desire to devour the stage with your movement takes over. There is now a sense of calm beneath the extreme of the exterior, almost meditative, and time seems to move more slowly, allowing you to say more within a fraction of a second. Your arms and back are still aching and your lungs still feel as though they’re bursting, but now you’re finding extra reserves of energy and your movements become even fuller, faster, and more extreme.