This B.C. dancer is almost 60 years old. He says dance will always be part of his life

Vancouver's Noam Gagnon has been dancing for decades, and at almost 60 years old he shows no signs of slowing down. 

He says while his physical relationship to dance remains the same, his emotional relationship with it has evolved over time.

"I've changed all my life," he said. 

At the end of April, Gagnon will be premiering an online solo show as part of Vancouver International Dance Festival. Ahead of the performance, he sat down for an interview with CBC's Margaret Gallagher on North by Northwest to talk about what dance means to him. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Your dance company is called Vision Impure. Where does that name come from?

I find the things in ourselves that are beautiful are often our flaws, and we usually run away from them. So Vision Impure reminds me as a creator and a choreographer that what I find is important to reveal. When I create work it is about the things that make us respond to how we are in life. And so Vision Impure is really like a poetic approach of thinking about the things that maybe we don't always think are beautiful, but I think they are. 

How does that idea translate itself into dance?

The theme of my new work, which is called Being, was trying to figure out a way to ask myself what more I can say and how I can say it differently. I think I'm starting to believe that there's a lack of certain ultimate meaning in life. I don't mean that my personal life doesn't have a purpose. We're not talking about purpose, but more like an overall meaning. There may be one, but I don't think I see it. I think it's maybe not for me to see. So the focus of that makes me realize that the things I hold on to are those moments of beauty, those moments where it feels good and then you realize they're gone. So it's really much more about trying to reckon with the fact that we're always seeking not just meaning or beauty, but that sense of feeling good, that sense of security, that sense of holding onto something that we value. That makes us, for me, a better human.

Your dance journey has been going on for a long time. How did you actually start dancing?

I've always been physical. My dad was a musician and also in visual arts. So that's where I went, and I did a degree in visual arts. But I realized that just doing something 2D was not for me. And then I read an article about a Spanish choreographer who was talking about process and art and how he was channeling it. And I loved the fact that through his physicality he was really saying something. And so [at age 18] I just went, 'OK, I think I'm going into choreography.'

How has your body helped you bring your visions to life? 

I'm going to be 60 soon. And in a way my physicality is still pretty much the same, except my relationship to expression is less direct. It's a little bit more textured and a little bit more colourful in terms of variation of emotion. I think life has taken care of teaching me these colours. But physically it's like everything else, you have to practise. When I start back to rehearsal the floor seems so far, but over time you repeat and you train and you find your ways with design. Movement is medicine in so many ways. 

Your work is so physical and so emotional. It's a very intense experience to see you dance. What does that take out of you physically?

It depends on the type of work. For example, the second section that I'm doing for my new piece is 15 minutes solo with a two-minute film in between and I could do that piece all day long. For some reason there's a nourishment. Of course, I have to be real about how my body needs more time to replenish in order to maintain the work. But I guess because I'm doing something that makes sense to me and comes from how my body, mind, and emotions are designed it doesn't feel exhausting at all. Also in my practice right now when I think about the topic of being, you could be exhausted and broken down. Or you can find your way through thick and thin to find ways to adapt, which for me, is what this work also is about.

How has your relationship to your body changed over time?

Sometimes I think 'Oh my God, you're going to be 60. Look at yourself. You're getting so old. You're getting wrinkles,' and these kinds of things.

But what we see in others is not what we see in ourselves. When we see someone older, we look at that life force: Do you like them, do you not? Do you feel safe? How do they talk? What's the sound of their voice? How do they communicate with you?

The world that we live in is so youth oriented, and my fear is that I'm going to become obsolete. But it's the reality that we are changing. I've changed all my life, so now I just have to think about how I want to change. It's a privilege to be able to think, how do I want to age?

What kind of pressure do you think the dance world puts on people in terms of their sense of physical self?

There's an expression: you can't make an omelette without cracking an egg. There's a demand that I think is needed within the field if you want to excel. And there are different types of dance that are evolving, but I come from a world and a time frame where there's a sense of rigour.

You have to be a little bit crazy to want to push [your body] to that extreme. And I had that; I wanted to be a super athlete. I crave the feeling of excelling in new places. Sometimes it's confusing, sometimes it's difficult, sometimes it's so much fun. But when you perform, it's Christmas. 

Why have you chosen to present your piece only online?

We're using four cameras and you'll be able to see things that you can't [usually] see, like how the hair on the skin is a little bit more aroused, the quality of the breath, the movement of the ribs. I really want to create something extra that when you're live [on stage] you feel but you can't see. These moments I find psychologically you can play and manipulate a little bit and give a new experience. It's different live because you see the whole stage and you have to use your imagination. But this is a combination of music, lights, and then the rest is to see the body, the skeleton, the muscles ripple.

What keeps you dancing?

My desire to communicate with myself. I feel what I have in me is very unique and there's this driving force that sometimes humbles me, brings me to my knees, but also gives me incredible joy that I feel is worth sharing. I can't help thinking that it's my job and it feels right when I do it. It doesn't always feel like I want to jump on the floor [and rehearse] but it just feels like as long as I can, I should. It's almost like a daily meditation of gathering information like a scientist. It seems like important research that perhaps could also inspire people to feel the importance of being.

How long do you see yourself dancing?

As long as I have something to communicate that matters to me, I go 'bring it on.' I also love creating on other bodies and I love creating on groups. I did a trilogy of my last three pieces and I felt completed. And then I created for others because I need to be creative. But [with this project] I'm going back more and more to essence. In the world that we live in, I think we need more essence. We need to go back to our truth. I'm not saying I have the truth, I just have mine. People inspire me every day and I hope I can generate a similar appreciation when I share what I have to say.