SAME SAME ... BUT DIFFERENT TOUR by CIARA CLAYTON (dance teacher and rehearsal director)

I have recently joined the Sonia Sabri Company as the rehearsal director for ‘Same Same… But Different’. Having moved to the West Midlands last September I was keen to explore what was happening in the arts sector here and meet local artists and creatives. ‘Same Same… But Different’ has dancers from varied backgrounds, which was lovely to experience after so long of having limited interactions with people.

Working alongside Sonia was a new experience for both of us as we were strangers when we first met. However, very quickly after a short time spent together in the studio we began to gain an understanding of one another and I was able to comprehend Sonia’s vision for the work and what her goals and aims were. We were able to bounce off each other which made the process of bringing back the work with a new cast smooth and enjoyable.

Two out of the three current cast members have previously been in the work so there was a huge focus on making sure the piece was taught and rehearsed with the newest dancer. During this time, however, we realised that even though two of the dancers had already performed the work in the past, this was over a year ago, due to the global pandemic and they have changed and developed as people and artists. Therefore, it was important for them to spend time working on the movement again to make sure it was authentic to their current selves.

For all of us in this rehearsal the experience of being back in the studio was new as we have spent so little time in the studio and in close physical contact with other people since last March. Even though this felt a little odd at first, very quickly we all came to appreciate how special this was. From the arduous cleaning of material, setting formations and rehearsing timing to delving into the intentions and exploring creative decisions of the piece, I found every moment engaging and exciting due to the nature of the work.

‘Same Same… But Different’ is doing a tour of libraries this summer around England and I think this will allow many children to experience dance and the arts in a way they may not normally. 

Not every child has the opportunity to go to the theatre and it can also be hard to find theatre pieces suitable for young children. It is so important to bring professional dance work into an accessible and common place for children such as a library as it will hopefully spark creativity and allow  them to see things in a different way which they may not have seen before. I think it will also be enjoyable for them to see live dance after spending so much time experiencing life through a screen recently.

I am looking forward to more of our rehearsals and watching the show go on tour and I can not wait to see live dance in the libraries!

The tour will visit 26 libraries and spaces across England from 27 July-26 August.

Full tour details are listed on our website under calendar:
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 AKAAR 2021 by  Anujeet Panesar 


The buzz, the adrenaline, the melodic sound of multiple sets of ghungroo, the chatter, the microscopic particles of hairspray lingering in the air, the kaleidoscope of makeup palettes. These are the elements of pre-performance dressing room prep to which I have become accustomed over the time I have been learning kathak. Then, the quiet that starts to come over the dancers as we make our way backstage, eyes frantically adjusting to the dark whilst also trying to keep centred, becoming acutely aware of the presence of the audience waiting just beyond. What happens to the experience of performance when these components are removed? What becomes of the performer who cannot see their audience, whose stage can be their garden, living room, kitchen, and whose audience may be watching any time of day, anywhere in the world, in their pyjamas?


Personally, whilst preparing for the Akaar online dance festival during the pandemic in 2021, my performative instincts were heightened. I could not rely on the usual rituals, comforting in their familiarity. After a year of living in leggings and hoodies, seeing myself in the mirror with all the accoutrements felt like seeing an old friend, to whom I gave a massive metaphorical hug. However the nerves remained intense despite the familiar environment of my conservatory. Who would see this, was I doing justice to my teacher and my art in presenting something which would be digitally preserved with flaws intact, forevermore? Why could I not find the right camera angle, when was the light streaming in going to be of the right quality for the recording? I became technician, sound engineer, video editor, dance critic. 


At some point, my anxieties were quelled once I realised I may not be alone with this jumble of concerns, feelings and questions. When I watched others’ recordings of their own contribution to the festival, I could see unbridled joy at reclaiming the spaces which had trapped us, by turning them into stages. I could see faces excited to perform with the thrill of a virtual audience. For a few moments, the daily challenges and imperfections of our lockdown lives did not matter any more. My dance reached people who know of my longstanding relationship with kathak but have never seen me perform before, including family in India. Their comments and feedback surprised and uplifted me, reaffirming why kathak has been an anchor throughout my life. Ironically, the physical detachment left me feeling more connected to my audience than ever. Alongside the manifold benefits of dance, this was the year it helped an analogue loving, digital technophobe to find and create new meaning amidst uncertainty.




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