Every choreographer strives to create work that deeply resonates with the audience. But what does that really mean, and how can it be achieved? It’s often said that success comes from either genius or a stroke of luck that leads to something extraordinary.
In reality, however, captivating art results from a blend of clear intention, refined craftsmanship, and the ability to relax and fully immerse oneself in the creative process. This balance allows artists to explore new realms of creativity and connect with audiences in a unique, meaningful way. Achieving this level of harmony takes consistent practice, as history has shown us.
What is resonance?
The article of the same title states: „At its core, resonance is the extraordinary phenomenon where an object vibrates at the same natural frequency as another. Think of a swing set at a playground – when you push it at just the right time and rhythm, the swings soar effortlessly, in perfect resonance. This fundamental concept can be witnessed in various aspects of our daily lives.“ (What is Resonance? Available online: https://science.howstuffworks.com/resonance-info.htm)
A more detailed explanation of resonance can be found on You Tube, for example here.
In the context of art, resonance refers to the emotional, intellectual, and sensory responses that a work evokes in its audience. These responses often resonate on a subconscious level but remain deeply personal, speaking directly to each viewer. Notably, the same work can resonate with different people in distinct, sometimes even contradictory ways.
Emotional resonance creates an instant connection, often invoking empathy—a shared experience. This emotional impact is usually triggered by the intensity of certain artistic elements (such as color, composition, or storytelling) that inspire surprise, awe, or reflection.
The audience’s intellect engages with a piece through its message. Often, the message challenges the viewer to think critically, question assumptions, or consider new perspectives. Intellectual resonance is particularly strong in conceptual art that addresses social, political, or philosophical issues.
Art also evokes aesthetic experiences through its impact on the senses, making bodily resonance an essential aspect. Elements like color, texture, form, harmony, and rhythm – especially when unexpectedly harmonious – can evoke a strong sensory experience. These sensations often connect to deep memories, whether pleasant or unsettling.
The most powerful works of art operate on all three levels – emotional, intellectual, and sensory – creating a multifaceted experience. Multimedia works, for example, often engage the audience’s imagination intensely. Film, with its combination of visuals, sound, and narrative, or literature, with its impact on the reader’s imagination, are great examples.
Resonance is highly subjective, influenced by each person’s cultural background, personal experience, and sensitivity. However, if a piece can have a profound impact on a wide range of audiences, it suggests a universal human experience that transcends cultural or historical boundaries – it possesses a timeless quality.
The resonance that creates deep personal experiences for the audience is closely related to the state of flow that artists experience during creation. This state of consciousness was described by American psychologist Mihály Csikszentmihályi. Flow is a state of inspiration, where the work feels effortless, connected to a stream of creativity. (You can find his TED talk on YouTube here, or read more in his book Flow.)
How to Increase the Resonance of Choreography
In art education, the importance of artistic freedom is often emphasized – rightfully so. But equally important is learning how to enhance the emotional, intellectual, and sensory impact of one’s work. How can this be achieved?
There’s no doubt that the impact of a piece is linked to the development of artistic skill. The more technically refined the work, the greater its effect on the audience. In dance, this means mastering the body’s technique. But because it involves the living, individual body, technique isn’t just about executing impressive physical feats – it’s also about expressive mastery. The goal is to communicate freely and creatively through dance.
The ability to explore and express the body’s full potential creates a more powerful impact than mere technical excellence. This expressive power comes from an openness to diverse methods of body-mind work, along with a commitment to lifelong learning throughout one’s dance career.
While strong choreographic skills are often built through long experience with the body, they don’t have to be developed at a young age. The depth of expression in dance grows with experience and intellectual and psychological maturity, which are ultimately more important for choreography than the flexibility of a youthful body.
Authentic expression is key. Viewers can immediately sense an empty form – something performed without true feeling lacks resonance. Only sincere emotion evokes empathy. This principle applies not just to choreography but to life itself: genuine emotion moves people.
Choreography, then, is an exchange where two voices resonate – the creator’s and the audience’s. Ideally, the experiences and expectations of both align. Communication with the audience about the intent behind the work can help foster this connection, creating mutual understanding and deep resonance.
Storytelling is one of the most powerful tools for creating resonance. As children, we all loved stories, and this form of communication is deeply ingrained in human nature. A story engages both imagination and emotion, even when only hinted at. While dance isn’t the most straightforward medium for storytelling (I write more about it in this blog), it can still create sequences and rhythms that allow audiences to build their own narratives. Pina Bausch, for instance, is known for mastering this technique.
Dance has unique ways of expressing universal themes – joy, love, despair, conflict – that resonate with audiences regardless of their personal context. The body conveys these emotions through shapes, movement quality, intensity, rhythmic patterns, and dynamic contrasts, which all engage the audience’s senses and imagination.
For the choreographer, creating resonance also means being open to the world around them – both everyday life and the broader art world. Openness is essential for innovation. What I observe in another artist inspires me to interpret and enrich my own practices.
Reflecting on one’s creative decisions is another way to increase resonance. While choreographic decisions are often intuitive, it’s necessary to review and refine them at times. Perfecting one’s craft requires self-reflection and the willingness to seek feedback. Fear of criticism should never prevent a choreographer from questioning their work early in the process. Asking the right questions helps build confidence and strengthens creative instincts.
How to Resonate Authentically
This is a broad question with many answers. Personally, I believe that authentic resonance comes from healthy self-confidence. But what does that mean? In dance, it’s closely tied to avoiding destructive criticism, which undermines self-esteem rather than fostering growth.
Just as physical well-being involves the harmonious resonance of every cell in the body, emotional well-being is vital for creative progress. True resonance requires emotional health, which allows an artist to create meaningful work.
Moments when I’ve resonated with the audience have always felt fulfilling, validating my creative choices and motivating me to continue experimenting. Each new project is a leap into the unknown, and while I prepare thoroughly, I’ve learned to allow myself to wander, trusting that I’ll eventually find my way.
Honesty is key to this process. Viewers can read genuine emotions far more easily than ideas composed solely in the mind. I also embrace the unexpected “mistakes” in the creative process, as they often lead to new discoveries and perspectives.
This approach helps me find my identity as an artist. Exploring my inner self has become integral to my work, though I grew into it over time. Honesty requires vulnerability and courage.
For me, art is both an opportunity and a journey of personal growth. The creative process is never-ending, and there’s always something new to discover – even if it’s just a small detail I hadn’t noticed before. Each discovery brings a sense of resonance and renewed motivation.
While creativity and discipline may seem like opposites, dance demands both. But creativity can’t be reduced to physical endurance alone. Refreshing my kinesthetic sensitivity is much more important than forcing myself through hard training.
Dance, at its core, is a continuous flow of energy. When that flow gets blocked, movement, creation, and progress stall. The key is not to force things but to let go and embrace the principle of release. This mindful practice is essential for maintaining the energy that dancers need to succeed.
Resonance and Energy
Over the course of my dancing career, I found that I didn’t have as much energy as some of the other dancers I admired. I’m not the explosive type. My strength lies more in consistency. I know I can work relentlessly, but I need breaks to recover. Gradually, I’ve learned to be more economical with my energy – both physical and creative. I know that when I’m tired, I’m not very creative. I understand that I need to put work on hold and recharge.
The American theater director Anne Bogart writes about the relationship between artistic creation and energy:
“There is an ongoing debate in the psychological research community about the relationship between stress and ego depletion in relation to willpower, which, in turn, reflects energy levels in the body. On any given day, there exists only a finite amount of fuel that allows us to focus, and that provides us with the mental energy to tackle the challenges that face us. Some of the daily activities that can sap this fuel include making decisions, weighing options, and exercising self-control.” (Anne Bogart: The Art of Resonance, p. 123)
Choreographing is a decision-heavy process, and these decisions often bring stress due to doubts about whether they are the right ones. When working creatively, I try to be aware of any stress or fatigue as soon as it begins to surface. I’ve realized that once I feel this way, I can no longer make decisions I will still support the next day, or even a week or year later. It’s equally important for me to stay mindful of the energy levels of the dancers I work with.
I’ve learned to recognize the early signs of physical fatigue, which quickly turn into creative fatigue and disrupt the flow of mutual empathy and understanding. In these situations, more explanations are often needed, and the dancers’ bodily experiences may clash with the words I use to describe what I’m looking for. On the other hand, fatigue makes it harder for dancers to keep their bodies and minds open to the directions I’m giving. This leads to miscommunication and undesired results, which only makes everyone more tired.
When this happens, I don’t push to create new material or to perfect the choreography. Instead, I focus on the less demanding parts of the creative process, like refining completed sections or fine-tuning details. Sometimes I even prefer to end the rehearsal early to save my energy and that of the dancers. Still, I always make sure to explain to the dancers what I’ve realized and why I’ve made certain decisions.
How and when creative ideas come is not entirely within our control. However, I’ve learned that I can deliberately tap into a more creative state. This “state” involves harmonizing my body, mind, and emotions, while fostering openness and curiosity. All three aspects need to align simultaneously, which isn’t always easy.
I aim to start from a neutral point and gradually expand the openness and curiosity in my body and mind through mindful breathing. Something interesting always emerges, though it may not be dramatic. I find that transforming stress or fatigue in this way is a valuable practice. I don’t expect record-breaking results every day, but with inner discipline, I strive to maintain high standards.
I don’t avoid the difficulties that are inevitable in any creative process. In fact, I’ve found that I handle them more effectively when I have the energy and courage to do so. I tend to come up with far more creative solutions when I’m energized, compared to when I’m tired or stressed. Whenever I forget this, I inevitably struggle, no matter how hard I push. I’m learning that maintaining this discipline is key to a sustainable creative process.
Understanding Resonance in Creativity
I’ve come to realize that resonance emerges where enthusiasm and passionate surrender are fully embraced. On the other hand, trying to control everything too tightly diminishes resonance. In fact, the term “resonance” can easily be substituted with “creativity,” and the relationship still holds true. A creative process that lacks passionate commitment to discovering something new tends to yield weaker results. However, passion needs to be channeled so that it drives toward its goal with purpose, rather than spilling aimlessly.
What sets the right channel for passion in creation? What balances passion harmoniously?
Once again, I return to the importance of discipline in the creative process. I associate it with craftsmanship – the mastery of compositional work and the expressive elements of dance. (I write more about these expressive components in the mentioned blog.) The skillful application of compositional rules is essential for guiding the audience’s attention and making choreography hold together.
Composition is a thoughtful process, but it also requires intuitive decision-making, driven by a developed sense of precision and detail. It’s not just about mastering the “technique” of composition or applying learned rules. It’s about using these rules to create distinctive new forms and content that reflect the unique inner world of the creator.
Discipline, for me, is a practice of cultivating patience and perseverance. These are especially challenging in today’s world, where interests and goals shift rapidly – perhaps two of the greatest challenges we face. The more comfortable life becomes, the more our ability to persevere is tested. It’s easy to abandon a purpose when so many other enticing options vie for attention. Artists, in particular, are often sensitive to this temptation. So what can help?
How to Perceive Resonance More Deeply
I’ve noticed that I experience resonance more vividly when I focus intently on my sensory perceptions – particularly sight and hearing. Anne Bogart offers a compelling perspective on the art of seeing:
“Most of daily life involves a lot of looking, but not much seeing. Looking is a physical action, defined as turning one’s eyes toward an object. Generally, I look in order not to bump into things. If you see me turn to look at a bicycle passing by, you can tell what I am doing based on my action. Seeing, on the other hand, is not necessarily visible to someone watching. Seeing requires perception on the part of the person who is looking.” (Anne Bogart: The Art of Resonance, p. 54)
Perception involves reflecting. It can be automatic and conscious. In conscious perception, I prolong the time of looking or listening in order to more sensitively pick up details that I don’t notice in fast, automatic perception. And I also lengthen the time of the effect of these perceptions to catch what effect they actually have on me – what they are telling me.
Recently, I attended a performance called Tectoparty by the Prague-based artistic group Ostružina. It helped me realize that I am capable of hearing and distinguishing far more sounds simultaneously than I had previously thought. This kind of discovery usually happens when you immerse your attention more deeply into your senses than usual. It changes the depth of perception, allowing you to truly feel resonance. The more subtle aspects of reality, which are often overshadowed by louder, faster, or more powerful sensations, suddenly become clearer. These dominant sensations can dull our overall perception.
Tuning into more sensitive perceptions – whether through listening or seeing – opens another door: the ability to respond rather than simply react. The human body can respond to sensory stimuli in milliseconds; it’s a remarkable organism. This rapid response comes from the brain’s oldest parts, which have helped humans survive and adapt over millennia. However, there’s a drawback: the same reaction occurs every time the same stimulus is encountered.
Changing that automatic reaction requires engaging the frontal cortex, which involves conscious awareness and reflection. Instead of responding on autopilot, we choose our responses based on thoughtful consideration. As Anne Bogart points out, in art, as in everyday life, we need more thoughtful responses than reactive ones.
Capturing Resonance Requires Space and Silence
Responding thoughtfully involves two essential factors: space and silence. These become more apparent when I’m truly listening. To listen means to create space within myself, leaving it open for something new to enter. It means giving my full attention to the sensations I’m focused on. When I listen in this way, a moment of silence naturally emerges. In this silence, I can glimpse the essence behind the visible form – whether it’s words, sounds, or shapes. In this moment of silence, I connect with both myself and the “other” – the person or thing I’m listening to.
In verbal conversations, listening means letting the speaker’s words enter my world. I pay attention to the content of their words, but the sound vibrations also significantly affect how I receive that content. Listening, then, is a process of letting go and reflecting – letting the words resonate within me and waiting for a response. When my response aligns with the speaker’s message, the resonance between us intensifies, and mutual understanding is achieved.
We can also “listen” while we watch. So much can change in a moment of silence. I need to create this silence by pausing and allowing myself time to respond. Anne Bogart reminds us that art requires such a pause—a stark contrast to the accelerated pace set by modern technologies, especially digital ones, which shorten distances and speed up our responses. “Patience and the deliberate engagement of delay can intensify our temporal and spatial experiences and become a powerful artistic tool in the journey towards resonant art.” (Anne Bogart: The Art of Resonance, pp. 55-56)
Neuroaesthetics Helps Explain Resonance
Finally, I want to emphasize that this blog is not about exploring some mystical phenomenon. Resonance, as an effect of art, is now being studied scientifically. The field of neuroaesthetics – a relatively young discipline – explores what happens in the brain when we create or experience art.
Susan Magsamen, founder and executive director of the International Arts + Mind Lab, a pioneering neuroaesthetic initiative of the Brain Science Institute at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Baltimore, writes in her article Your Brain on Art: The Case for Neuroaesthetics:
„The power of the arts has always been with us, but deeper understanding of its impact on the brain is relatively new. Research now makes clear that experiencing or creating art sparks a dynamic interplay among brain cells that spearheads billions of changes affecting our thoughts, emotions, and actions. This knowledge elevates the arts to a superpower in its potential for healing and empowerment. Indeed, if we were to design a tool from scratch to improve learning, health, and overall well-being, it would look like the arts.“ (Available online: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7075503/)
Choreographic sketch: Body resonance in space
This choreographic sketch reflects my intention to let the resonance of my surroundings influence me and respond to it through movement. During the holidays, I visited beautiful places I had never been to before, and these new experiences unexpectedly deepened this intention. I opened myself to these unfamiliar environments, allowing their impressions to resonate within my body. A sense of time and space were strong elements of this process. I sought to expand my attention to sensory perception and navigate my inner sensibility to a fresh embodiment of the present moment. It was an incredibly rewarding experiment.