Estonian choreographer, dancer, and movement researcher Maria Solei Järvet became one of the selected artists of the Baltic Dance Network – a programme exploring the contemporary dance identity of the region. Within its framework, Maria led the workshop STILL MOVING, where, responding to the region’s changing political context, she offers a way to find freedom through movement practice. In the interview, Maria shares her perspective on Baltic identity and reminds us of what many of us have forgotten.
Maria Solei Järvet, photo by Krista Ose.
Could you explain your teaching method – how do different techniques inspire your practice?
My method is inspired by many different techniques. I work as if I am creating my own “menu” – I choose and mix various practices: this can be already existing practise, the technique or another method I’ve encountered in a workshop, learned from a mentor, or discovered through a colleague.
What inspires me are the endless possibilities and the desire not to repeat myself. I believe that what happens in the studio and beyond – the people or the worlds around us – are not separate. That’s why I look for ways to connect them. In my workshops, I integrate readings of poetry, and philosophy, fresh ways of seeing the skeleton, ideas from other fields like music, architecture, or social research, which I then relate to dance. In this way, the workshop becomes more playful and, in a sense, more authentic.
I think that in a world where wars are happening and there are many other problems, we tend to shrink – both physically and mentally. So I pose the question: when I enter the studio, how can I find space within myself? How can I still discover pleasure, even when the world feels heavy?
It is important for me not to lose connection with what is happening around me, but at the same time to return to the body, to start from within. Even if the world feels oppressive, you can always return to the space and find a bit of air, like a balloon inside yourself, allowing you to breathe and expand.
You mentioned that your inspiration comes from a desire not to repeat yourself. Does that mean that each workshop you lead is different?
For me, it’s important not to rely solely on initial feelings. Sometimes trusting too much what you feel doesn’t help. I try to remember that the problem itself is often far from its solution – so if I enter a space thinking only about the problem, I’m actually even further from solving it. When I talk about avoiding repeating myself, I mean that each time I try to find a practical way to “trick” myself or play with the situation.
For example, if I feel tired, I try not to think “I am tired,” but instead ask myself: how could I not be tired? Rather than allowing myself to stay on the floor the whole time, I choose to think differently: “Today I will focus on the sense of space and openness.” Gradually, my energy begins to shift.
What principles do you apply when leading workshops?
It’s important to me that people feel safe and are able to discover things for themselves. That’s why I try not to project what I see onto them. I allow them to reach certain results or experience moments of surprise on their own.
I also want to challenge the mindset that often dominates the dance world – the idea that something is “right” or “wrong,” or “this worked” versus “that didn’t.” Such judgment isn’t a helpful feedback for the person. That’s why I often use phrases like, “I invite you to try this” or “I invite you to explore this further.” It’s more of an invitation than a requirement – and that’s the purpose of my workshops.
Maria Solei Järvet, photo by Krista Ose.
What would you like people to take away from it?
I want people to move. I feel that we’ve somewhat lost our sense of movement – sometimes we sink too much into the mind, and then it becomes harder to allow ourselves to move. When the weather is cold, it makes it even more difficult.
I would like participants to leave with more inner space and the awareness that they have the power to find it within themselves. I also want to provide tools that help them not get stuck in a particular state or sensation. For example, if you say to someone, “imagine there’s a balloon in your chest,” I can see how it changes their state. This works far better than just saying “just do it.”
Why did you decide to join the Baltic Dance Network programme?
I’ve been working in Denmark for some time, and one of the reasons I joined – and it may sound cliché – is that I want to return to my roots, to the place where I come from.
I also see a lot of creative potential in the Baltic countries and I raise the question of what we can do so that someone who wants to develop their dance practice doesn’t have to go north or west, but can do it at a high level here, in the Baltic region.
I feel that right now people in the Baltic countries are mostly united by shared traumas or common enemies, but I believe we should be brought together by shared wisdom and curiosity to transform something. There are so many amazing artists here.
What are the main differences you notice between the Baltic and Scandinavian dance fields?
Besides Denmark, I work in Sweden, Germany, and Spain, and in reality, the problems are the same everywhere. One of the main issues is that everyone lacks funding. But in Scandinavia, the cultural funding system is different. There, you can receive support for research or rehearsals without knowing when the piece will be presented. In the Baltic countries, there is no state funding for research, rehearsals, or the development of new techniques and movement methods. Funding is allocated only for the creation of a performance, and usually, there is barely a month to do it. Meanwhile, in universities, we are taught to enjoy the process and conduct research. Unfortunately, the reality is quite different.
What does the concept of Baltic dance identity mean to you?
I have always been very proud of where I come from. The first word that comes to mind is resilience. For some, it might sound like a heavy word, but I see it as a quality I would like to have. I feel that we have lost it somewhat, even though resilience has truly helped us.
I think it’s important to know your history – not to repeat it, but so that it isn’t the only thing that defines us. What could define us now? To figure that out, it’s important to be in motion rather than stagnation, because it’s easy to become a victim again, as we have been in many ways.
In the contemporary dance field, I still feel like a minority, but if we only talk about how hard it is and that no one understands us, we invite that kind of energy ourselves.
So I think we should ask ourselves: why are we doing this? After all, we are still doing it. We need to find the spark – and perhaps then excitement and joy will return.
Maria Solei Järvet, photo by Krista Ose.
What qualities do you think best define Baltic artists today?
There’s a term I really like – “collACTIVE” thinking. I believe this quality is reflected both in our history and in the present, across three still fairly different but close Baltic countries.
We are connected by many things: the human needs to have a purpose, to be loved, to have the right to choose what to read or what to do in life. These are such basic things, yet in the Baltic countries, I feel we still don’t take them for granted. In some Western countries, people have long accepted this as a given.
I was born in 2000 – in an independent but still very young country. I think that once we got our start, we acted like ants – with enormous enthusiasm: “Yes! Let’s go! We need to get into the European Union, into Europe!” We asked ourselves, “How can we make the world see us?”
The same goes for the Singing Revolution – it still resonates globally. I feel we need to reconnect with it somewhat, especially now, when cultural funding is being cut and everything is becoming more difficult. I think we need to be louder.
One of the main themes of the Baltic Dance Network is Dance in the Face of Change. How do you respond to these changes in your practice?
I would say I’m a political artist – I don’t separate these things. Recently, together with other creators, I have made two performances and one solo piece in response to the political situation.
In a sense, I work like an anthropologist or documentary artist – I listen to stories, observe people, and then embody these situations. I feel there’s no need to create parallel realities because we already live in many of them.
I apply the same principle in the Baltic context. I try not to close myself off in my own bubble – I listen to people on public transport, on the street. Sometimes I hear recurring themes – it’s a sign that they exist, even if they are not discussed in the media, on social networks, or with family.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what inspires me. I realize it’s mostly people who show up, speak, and respond. I admire those who, no matter the field – dance, science, politics, or education – are not afraid to go deeper, to be in uncomfortable situations, not to seek a single solution, but to acknowledge that there may be several.
I’m inspired by everyday gestures – when someone smiles on the street, when they stand up for someone they don’t even know. I feel that the essence of freedom is helping to free those who don’t yet have it. I think about this as a teacher, a colleague, or simply as a person in society. If I am free, it gives me the possibility to help free someone else. And I feel that this courage to speak and act is what inspires me the most right now.