Unfamiliar Things: Jack Webb on The End
Choreographer Jack Webb is now a name familiar in the Scottish Contemporary Dance scene. We sent one of his former classmates to interview him ahead of his eagerly-anticipated return to the Edinburgh stage with The End
I’ve known Jack Webb since our first shared classes at the Scottish School of Contemporary Dance in Dundee more than a decade ago. In the intervening years it has been a pleasure to watch him succeed, with funding, and tours, and to see him so well supported by Scotland, his homeplace. He has had much success relative to many of our contemporaries. So has this success changed his practice as an artist?
“I try not to take myself too seriously,” he says. “A huge part of this is the simple act of talking to people; communication with audiences, performers, friends, strangers, to constantly receive new perspectives on my work.” Particularly the friends and performers he works with – their honest insight into his work is something he considers a foundation for his art. “In the first five years or so, I really didn’t care what people thought of what I created, but I’ve come to realise that the opinions of others, anyone, humans who see my work, is vital to my practice.”
So, The End. Developed in a collaboration between Tramway and BALTIC Contemporary Art, the piece will have a limited run in Gateshead following its August residency in Dancebase. The name instantly inspires curiosity – what does he mean, an end to what? His answer is typically fluid (typically in that ever-evolving fluid nature of artistic meaning): “It’s a starting point, about starting again.” The phrase was born through some research he did last autumn, an idea of getting rid of the familiar. In his words: “I see The End as a catalyst for a new beginning.”
Evolving through improvisation
Jack Webb’s process and methodology are intriguing. He’s constantly looking for a method that’s not a method, something not too polished, something that doesn’t reflect established contemporary dance aesthetics, an aesthetic he feels quite strongly exists, and persists, as a form which he does not wish to recreate.
His use of improvisation as a performance tool is not entirely unique, but definitely still uncommon. Improvisation has long been used as a way of creating work in dance, but much less so in performance. His newest work is greatly inspired by working with larger groups of dancers (he has made numerous solos), and improvisation is used as a way to give the dancers space to keep the spontaneity, to give them room to stretch and evolve the choreography on a daily basis, to express how they are as people on that particular day within the work. This takes place within a set structure – the sequence of events is the same, but the details may vary.
He mentions the ‘message’ of the work, and I’m not letting that go… There’s a message?! “Yes,” he says, “The End has a message. It asks the audience to look at the dancers, to look also at themselves, and to slow down, to experience time, to look at how one is in the world.” It explores excess, the society which consumes, it asks the viewer to slow down even more, to figure out how we can change, and if we can.
Returning to his process, I wonder if he edits the work? “All the time,” he says. Everything is filmed, and he spends hours trawling back and forth through the videos after leaving the studio, watching and pulling out the moments that work. For him this is not an editing process but a refining process… condensing.
Does he ever think of narrative structures in his work? “Especially in this one,” he says, “there is definitely a starting point which causes a chain of events leading to the final moment.”
(Continues below)
More on the Edinburgh Fringe 2016:
First Dates: In Fidelity at the Fringe
Paines Plough on their 2016 programme
To define this he clarifies narrative – not for him in the traditional storytelling sense, but a narrative consisting of emotion, energy and physical action. Although not overly literal, this takes the viewer on an emotional journey through the piece, with room for interpretation. Despite this room he allows, he says he has tried to give clear signals as to what the audience should experience.
Has his practice changed with this work or is it a clear development of previous work, can he draw similarities? “All of them are connected,” he says, ”but not similar. The huge difference is the element of time.” When he first began a 20-minute piece was enough. Now, this work stands at one hour long. “I can’t imagine it being otherwise; with three dancers and such a big subject, the use of time is so important. One hour is exactly what is needed to express the clearest version of what I want to say.”
Over the years he also feels his work has become less aggressive; he has become interested in the inherent subtleties. He’s not sure if his work has become clearer for the audience, but it has for him, he feels his ‘voice’ is more articulate.
Alternative influences: Sculpture and writing
He has worked from time to time within visual arts institutions, for research and performances. Does he draw inspiration from any other artistic fields in his practice? “Sculpture,” he says, “Contemporary sculpture. I ‘feed’ on the galleries available in Edinburgh; recently an exhibition at the Fruitmarket gallery really stuck with me, a work which blurred the boundaries between performance art and sculpture.
"I’m also very influenced by sound, not in ‘lovely music’ but in sounds that are difficult to listen to, composers whose strange soundscapes seem to go on forever. I feel a real parallel to my work in this.”
His own use of objects onstage has been much influenced by the world of sculpture; for example two chairs on stage, for him, are not props (although some may say they are), they are not sculptural (although some may say they are). In his work they have become an extension of his body; he finds simplicity in objects rather than complexity. I can’t help but draw parallels to my own field of circus, a world of bodies and objects.
Within his practice, does he create any other types of art, work with other forms? “Writing – prosaic, stream of consciousness… a recent residency in the Northernmost point in Scotland (on the Shetland isles) resulted in the use of some of this writing in an exhibition.” He also never uses music or sound made by other people. In his own words, “I’m a control freak about sound.” The filming and editing in the creative process often inspire him to make short films.
Finally, a Scottish artist working his whole career in Edinburgh – how is it? He loves it. “Even the idea of moving to Glasgow seems like an upheaval. Many years ago I toyed with the idea of moving to London. I’m so happy I never took the bait, as it’s clear that I would never have made the work I’ve made had I been there.” Now his work tours to London. “This is better,” he says with a smile. Being committed to working in one place, and equally committed to travelling with the work is the idea. Having a place, a home to come back to that he loves.
The End, Dancebase, 5-21 Aug (not 8 & 15), times vary, £8-10