What´s going through my head right now #30

"COMPETITIONS – and their own rules"

This past weekend, I served as a judge for the first time at a nationwide Swiss dance competition in the urban scene, where crews from various dance schools performed. They competed to measure themselves against others and to better assess their own abilities.

This took me back to a time when I myself used to participate in competitions. Admittedly, the focus was different—it was about artistic flair, composition, dramaturgy, and a signature style that was as unique as possible. Everything was designed for dancers and choreographers who were already working professionally. Still: the ambition to stand out, to make a lasting impact, the tension during every preliminary round—it was immense. Especially at the awards ceremony, when dreams came true or were shattered.

Anyone who enters a competition navigates the tension between “just being there” and the will to win. Both are legitimate. Either it’s about the experience, receiving a judgment and feedback, or about standing on the podium—with all the benefits that entails: attention, publicity, potential grants.

Coming from a sports background, with countless competitions in my childhood and youth under my belt, I was infected with ambition and the will to win. Even later, as a dance professional, I couldn’t ignore that. But I was aware that the artistic aspect results in a different evaluation. This fine line between evaluation, standardsand the elusive qualities of creativity, genius, and individuality. Juries’ decisions are often difficult to fathom—precisely because of their diverse backgrounds. It’s a gamble.

Yesterday, the decisions were clear-cut thanks to well-defined criteria. We were in agreement within the jury; almost all of us ranked the groups in the same order. No big surprises. As a juror, I applied my standards and experience, just as I’ve always done. Unmanipulable, with my wealth of experience and my set of values.

Still, I found myself pondering. The pieces presented had little artistic merit. Cool moves, formations, a few lifts or acrobatic elements. The music was mostly stereotypical: catchy hip-hop beats, sometimes with lyrics that half the audience sang along to. Sometimes cleverly edited, often just strung together, so that even the choreography faltered. In every piece, the front line opening and closing like a zipper. Everything predictable, little innovation. Copy & paste.

I don’t want to denounce the lack of creativity here, but rather ask: What is the goal? Content, narrative, musical interpretation, expression—what takes center stage? Where is the dialogue with the audience? Is it just about entertainment, the “wow” effect? What moves us, what stays with us?

I don’t think the different worlds necessarily have to learn from one another. Rather, they can. Here, the contrast between commerce and art comes into play. Just as a dance show at the Friedrichstadtpalast aims to please the audience, abstraction, the contemporary, and the not always tangible convey a completely different message. Both have their place and their own rules.

And despite the copy-and-paste approach and lack of innovation: Everyone dared to take the stage and give it a try. Who knows what they took away from this event. The stage fright, the enthusiasm, the suspense leading up to the announcement of the rankings—all of this created an intense experience for every participant. Team spirit, positive reinforcement of their achievements. A host who encouraged everyone not to take anything negative away with them, because simply participating was worth it.

In the professional competitions I was familiar with, I rarely trusted that premise. You could sense that the competition was sometimes fierce, with envy and resentment lingering in the air. That’s why this first day as a judge was far more positive than I expected.

For the owners of the dance schools, it’s also about reputation. Success makes you better known, more sought-after. You attract more talent, have a certain guarantee that the business will thrive. It’s about sustainability. Only this way can you stay on top of things, recognize trends, stay current, and perhaps even set new trends.

And they exist: these schools and crews that break the mold. Setting new trends and even defying some rules.

Of course, there’s always the risk of not winning. But then there are those moments when a jury is won over by something new. What appeals to them is that something is emerging that opens up new paths.

When I myself took part in dance and choreography competitions, the goal was to leave a lasting impression. To present something to the judges and audience that inspires, that reveals talent, potential, or vision. And it worked. Some of my invitations and requests for new works were the result of my competition successes. Over the years, this developed into a network that advanced my career.

The conclusion is clear: competitions can represent one or more steps toward success, toward a career. But they guarantee neither longevity nor sustainability. It takes a lot of work, perseverance, and the ability to handle criticism—to correctly interpret and contextualize both success and defeat. Because in the end, they are just snapshots, dependent on many factors that are usually beyond one’s control. Between success and failure often lie criteria and circumstances that are out of one’s hands.

Yours Jochen, sincerely