I Will Still Have a Key: Nadia Beugré in conversation with Bill T Jones
Born in Ivory Coast, Nadia Beugré was a founding member of Béatrice Kombé’s groundbreaking, all-female dance ensemble, TchéTché, before joining ex.e.r.ce., Mathilde Monnier’s program for talented, up-and-coming choreographers at the Centre chorégraphique national de Montpellier.
Known for works that journey around margins, exclusion, and the abnormal, Beugré explores shifting identities, whether social, cultural, or gender-based. Twelve years after premiering her solo Quartiers Libres ('Free rein'), she revisits this emblematic solo by inviting two young artists from the Ivorian scene to explore those forbidden places in which we choose to wander.
Sitting down with Bill T. Jones, choreographer and artistic director of New York Live Arts, Beugré discusses how their work considered what would become of us if we penetrate the taboo spaces.
Bill T Jones
All performance requires a certain displacement of the spectator. Quartiers Libres does as well. Your statement about the work says," Quartiers Libres creates a space to explore those forbidden places in which we choose to wander."
During this piece, your character wanders, but so must the spectator. Your big presence is like entering your personal country where I, the spectator, am a tourist or an anthropologist. If you will allow me, I would, on behalf of an audience that does not know you or your work well, ask some basic questions: How do you call what you do? Is it dance, or is it performance art?
Nadia Beugré
I always have trouble fitting myself into a box, into a shape. I always have trouble.
BTJ
How did you come to the art you make? Could you give us a brief biographical portrait of how you started and what made you start?
NB
My name is Nadia Beugré, but between Beugré and Nadia there is another name: Gbahihonon.
Gbahihonon is the name that defines me. Beugré is my father’s name, and Nadia is my Muslim first name that was given to me by my father. I’m originally from Côte d’Ivoire; it is where I was born and raised, and it is where I first encountered dance. There are rhythms everywhere in Abidjan. Dance encountered me there. Not at birth, but in my father’s backyard, where he would welcome people who’d come from the village to dance at funerals, weddings, and traditional stuff. That is where I discovered dance. There were also competitions in which I participated.
At that time, I was also playing soccer at school, but stopped when I found dance. So, when I first encountered dance, it diverted me from where I was at the time, which was outside. It was curiosity that had sent me outside. Now I would call it a transgression because, ever since I was young, I’ve felt that I didn’t want to be confined. Later, I met a cousin who knew a man who was a choreographer and managed companies in Adobo, in my community, at the Centre Culturelle d’Adobo.
My cousin saw me dance and said, “Let’s go.” He entrusted me to this man. Once I had found my way around, Béatrice [Kombé] stopped at the door and said, “You. Come.” I started working with her. She made me what I am today. Later, she passed away. It was so sudden.
I had already been preparing a solo long before she passed away, so that was put on hold. Later, when I went to the École des Sables, I began working with the choreographer Germaine Acogny. I had also heard about ex.e.r.ce., so I applied, presented the solo I’d started preparing, and was accepted.
When I left for ex.e.r.ce., I still had questions about myself as a performer, as a young choreographer searching for herself. There were still question marks when I arrived for the training. I got some answers, but I didn’t get others. I took all those keys that were given to me during this training and put them together on a keychain. That way, one day, when I’m faced with a door, I will still have a key.
That is why, today, when I give my workshops, I tell the students, “Don’t neglect the keys you’re given. Because, one day, the one [key] you’ve neglected, you’ll be in front of that door, and you won’t have it anymore. That is when you will need the one you’ve been neglecting. That is it. It is no small matter.”
At the Montpellier Choreographic Center, there was a point that I began to question the body. To really question space and my surroundings inside my little shell. Because during training, I realized that, in fact, when you’re inside something, when you are in a space, you don’t really see it. You are used to it.
When you take a step back, you realize what you have. You realize the beauty. You realize what could be more beautiful. So, as an artist, everything changes. This doesn’t mean that because you are going somewhere else, you are changed. No, the way you think about that place makes you open up the way you view things. That even makes you go into forbidden places.
That is where Quartiers Libres came from. During training, I worked around the bottles like a snowball. Little by little. And then, there it is. It’s Quartiers Libres.
BTJ
What is the forbidden space? Could you give me an example?
NB
My spaces involve everything that is taboo. Everything that is a reproduction. That is what I wanted to talk about.
BTJ
You don’t mean necessarily a Black body in a racist world. You’re talking about the sexuality. You’re talking about gender. When you say forbidden, is it about a Black body in a world of which you are other?
NB
For me, it goes beyond that. Take, for example, one of my projects, L'Homme Rare. That work, for me, is about seeing the body. Looking at it. It is a body that is beautiful more than anything else. There is a feeling of dignity in it. The fear around that body is just something that covers it. Now, I say, “That cover doesn’t belong to me anymore.”
In other words, we should feel really, really proud. Because, when we talked about slavery, when we came to look for it, we came to look for Black bodies. It was making this body seem like a rare one, but that is just in our heads. They just didn’t want us to know that we were beautiful.
BTJ
Could you talk about the music in the piece?
NB
For me, the music was a nod to all those Black women divas who spent all their time preaching freedom and peace. But at a certain point, we started to denigrate them. It was really a way of paying tribute to them. By using a Nina Simone song, I am also talking about free reign. When I arrive in a city, I try to pick up a piece of music or the stronger sound that connects to that place. When you hear it, you say, “This is such a part of New York,” or a part of wherever the work is being performed.
BTJ
When you came to New York Live Arts years ago with a version of this piece, someone said to me, “She’s talking about toxic colonialism.” Do you agree?
NB
The majority of my projects are a bit like a painting. Everyone looks at them and says what it means to them. I take it. It is not just toxic there [in New York City] because it is everywhere. All over the world.
I say all over the world because, as an artist, I meet so many people. For example, if I arrive in New York, I might first meet the chambermaid from the hotel before meeting the team from the theater. There are so many things going on and there are people who don’t know you, but they talk to you about what they are ashamed of. What they’ve done.
BTJ
Quartiers Libres seems to be focused on transformation. Transformation in style of performance, transformation in space, transformation in costume, and in the material. How is your practice transforming?
NB
When I first started Quartiers Libres, I couldn’t find words. But after a while, I didn’t recognize myself in the way the words were spoken. So, for a while now, I’ve been speaking about “shtrufter.” It is an invented word; it means the unpredictable. It is my practice.
As a result, I try to create places based on confusion. What is it like when the unexpected happens? What is your choice? What is your focus? The confusion stimulates me. Maybe afterwards, when I can talk with you, the elders, and the teachers about the psychological state of the choreographer while working. It is true when we say creation liberates, but there are also other moments when we speak about what is damaged after creation.
BTJ
You travel a great deal. You see many audiences. You work with many students. How are you thinking and feeling about how this world is changing and transforming?
NB
What I encounter during my travels is the beauty of the trip and the organizations. All that is beautiful. In those moments, you say that life is beautiful. But the world is not going well. We can’t say, “It’s OK.” We can put it into perspective, but we can’t pretend it is OK. There are some who manage to pay their bills, but the world is getting hotter, and it is not going well. It is up to us to step up to the plate
BTJ
Are you optimistic about the future?
NB
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. It changes. I firmly believe in it.▪︎
Experience Quartiers Libres (Revisited) for yourself at the Walker Nov 1–2, 2024. Learn more and get tickets here.
This conversation is courtesy of Walker’s Nadia Beugre tour partner, New York Live Arts and it’s Artistic Director Bill T. Jones
This conversation has been edited for clarity. The full video interview is available below.
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