Fields of Tender, an immersive durational dance work for neurodiverse and disabled children aged six months to ten years, had its German premiere on 13 and 14 October at English Theater Berlin, as part of FRATZ International 2024. Inky Lee interviewed the choreographer, Dalija Acin Thelander, after attending a performance specifically for audiences between five and ten years old.
Upon my first step into the theatre, even before I visually take in the space, I register a fragrant scent. (“It’s patchouli and cinnamon,” says Dalija Acin Thelander during our chat after the performance.) I feel a rush of relief, knowing that I will be immersed in this pleasant smell for the next 1.5 hours.
The space is dimly lit and there are various objects hanging from the ceiling, each with a distinct shape and texture. I, like most of the children experiencing the piece with me, walk around to touch everything. I am grateful that the music is not too loud, as I forgot to bring my earplugs. In the room are three performers, ten children, six teachers, and me. As a neurodivergent person, I notice how being with this relatively small number of people in a theatre helps me to remain calm.
The performers—Jimmie Larsson, Noah Hellwig, and pavleheidler—move and sound like creatures. They change into a series of sculptural costumes throughout the performance, each detailed with decorative objects and patches. Thelander explains that these ornaments are “very deliberately there” because some children prefer an indirect touch over skin to skin contact. When a performer comes near me, brushing my feet with their legs, and stays there for a moment, I carefully feel the objects dangling from their arms and feel the intimacy of our contact. I observe a similar reaction in the room: except for one child who gently puts their fingers on top of a performer’s palm, others choose to touch the costumes.
The performers’ bodies are tenderly open—listening, reacting, acting, and sometimes simply being. They seem relaxed, yet focused and engaged, allowing interactions to occur whenever children initiate them. They boldly present themselves to the possibility of such exchanges at times by, for example, squeezing their bodies in between the seated children. Thelander mentions how much practice is necessary for the performers to be responsive to the environment and generous to the audience, while finding time for themselves as well. She points out how they, same as the children, have the rights to engage or disengage as they need and want. For her, it is important that the performance does not become a place of service to anyone. It is not where the performers do anything for or to children by entertaining, manipulating, or forcing them. Rather, it centres on co-creating an environment where everyone has their own agency.
Waves of varying dynamics pass through the theatre. When all the performers dance actively at a fast tempo, the children tend to be absorbed in watching them. The children take the space by roaming around, playing with the props, and inventing their own games when the performers are quieter and less noticeable. The children’s curiosity and joy feels somewhat subdued, yet real and alive. Seeing a child crawling quickly away like a squirrel from a performer approaching them makes me laugh. Another child starts to copy the movements of the performers and dance around the space. Catching the performers’ soft smiles warms my heart and I continue to feel blessed by the lovely scent in the room. There are times when the whole room relaxes as we lie around together.
When a shift in the light reveals the shadows of all the hanging objects on the floor, I marvel. I point a finger to the shadows and walk around, following their moving shapes. When I catch myself feeling tired at some point, I like knowing that it is not a problem, because I can just lie down and rest. As I am lying there, a child lies down close to me and I feel their gaze on me. I decide to be brave, meet their gaze, and smile. They shyly turn their head away. Later, as they leave, they smile and wave at me. It makes me happy.
Thelander describes the space as a “micro utopia” where the children can exist as they want without the pressure to “behave” in order to be accepted by society “run by normative and neurotypical ways”. She tells me she does not want to replicate the functional, goal-oriented, and restrictive systems of society in her artistic work.
I ask her what she finds most beautiful about creating works for neurodiverse children. “Seeing them empowered,” she replies. Then, she shares the “fundamentals” of her work: To not see the audience as a homogeneous group. To make an immersive environment where children can move around freely, as forcing them to sit and look in one direction is “against their nature” and therefore “violent”. To make a durational piece, as neurodiverse children need time to perceive, process, and react. Lastly, to use movement as a primary mode of communication, and to craft a sensory-rich environment.
Thelander adds that she wants adults to also feel engaged and relaxed during her work, as seeing adults out of their “functional zone” affects children’s behaviour in a positive way. Perhaps this is why, for me, Fields of Tender feels like a gift where I can let myself be a kid again, a delightedly neurodiverse one, free from authoritative gazes and the pressure of practising self-censorship.
