Lauren’s emergence as a leading force in the dance world has been powered, in part, by that innate curiosity, along with an instinct to use restrictions— whether they are spatial, musical, or logistical— as creative tools rather than encumbrances. In her dances, she relishes the chance to reveal the unexpected, whether that is in style, movement, or the untapped aspects of a dancer’s talents.

Lauren Lovett | photo by Erin Baiano

Since Lauren is very much still actively performing herself— she’s appeared recently with Tiler Peck and Friends and Christopher Wheeldon’s Morphoses — one might assume that she’d capitalize on having the physical ability to show her dancers what she wants choreographically. But she describes her process quite differently. In many ways, demonstrating the steps is easier than verbalizing them, but it can also change the way the dancers interpret the movement for themselves. Lauren has learned, first a little reluctantly, to take herself out of the equation as much as possible when she’s choreographing, even though she says she’s more comfortable communicating with her body than with words. “Speaking with my body comes more naturally to me, but I’ve felt myself grow by using more imagery and language to describe what I want to see,” she says. “I still demonstrate a bit, but less and less, because the dancer can take ownership of the piece better; it becomes their movement. If I’m just showing all the time, it can be helpful but for the dancer it’s like, ‘Well, that looks good on you, but what about me?’ And I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

Getting out of the way, allowing inspiration to strike and trusting that it takes practice. Lauren says that for years, she doubted her ability to create spontaneously, feeling she needed to pre-plan movement before getting into the studio with dancers. “I used to get down on myself if I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do,” she says. “But it’s worse that way. I get distracted by trying to remember something I planned prior, I’m not in the moment, I’m not present, I’m not my best self.”

Her presence is her gift, she says. “I’m always there with those dancers, in that space at that time. I’m not thinking about anything else, I’m not trying to put any of my own self on them. I let whatever is happening there come to me. I don’t need to be set on any kind of pedestal in the room. I love just getting up underneath the process and moving it along.”

Lauren Lovett | photo by Erin Baiano

Eco grew out of existing work Lauren made during a studio “incubator” project with some freelance dancers in New York. She’d been inspired by music she discovered on Hilary Hahn and Hauschka’s album Silfra. “(The music) had been performed live as improvisation. I dream of finding a way to have it transcribed so it can be performed live again, but that’s a very expensive endeavor. But this recording is not a compromise- it is grippingly beautiful,” she explains. The resulting three-movement dance was a “piece without a home,” that she included in her portfolio almost as an afterthought when dialoguing with Interim Artistic Director Peter Franc about a piece for OBT’s 2022/23 season. “He immediately said, ‘What is this? I love it!’ I’m so excited that now it has a place at OBT.”

As she contemplated using her existing choreography as a base from which to expand and tailor the piece for OBT, Lauren realized the theme of reuse, renewal, and sustainability was at its core. She felt a sense of rootedness and connection to the ground, to nature, coming from the music and has let that inform the piece’s style- though she resists compartmentalizing her work into a clear-cut genre. Eco, she says, is rooted, grounded, and fluid, and grew out of her own mental turmoil during a particularly anxious time of her life. She has the dancers reflecting that, and perhaps finding anchor in closeness to the earth. The ever-giving, ever-renewing concept is true to all of Lauren’s work, as she gifts the choreography to those who dance it, now and in the future.

“I never feel like anything I’ve made is ever done,” she says. “Because I make pieces spontaneously, I remake and undo and put them back together in the same manner. Everything about this process is recycled: it’s giving life to something you once had or might have thrown away. I make things based off what I’m feeling, but I don’t like telling people what they should feel. When the dancers are alive in the work, and if I’m alive witnessing it even though it came through me if I’m on the edge of my seat at the end of a rehearsal- man, that’s where it’s at for me.”