Ennobling spaces in a dance of darkness — singer-songwriter and actor Inge Beckmann

When did you first identify as an artist?

From an early age, I recall wanting to ennoble spaces. I would decorate my bedroom, rearrange the furniture, pick flowers and create these avant-garde arrangements. When I entered a Victorian house converted into a business or a restaurant, I’d place both hands on the walls and ask if it was content in its current role. I knew when a house was a sick house, an unhappy house.

Sometimes I’d try to locate the heart of the house and just sit with it. I had a radar for dead corners and yucky ornaments that needed to be thrown out, or overlooked objects begging to be appreciated anew. Items on the floor wanted to be displayed on the mantelpiece in a dignified manner. I was attuned to the pride of inanimate objects.

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When I became an adult, I called this habit “room rehab”. When I faced unpleasant surroundings – dirty streets or sterile shopping centres – I challenged myself to find beauty in the interplay of colour, texture, light and shade.

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen as a child. It is still a creative sanctuary to this day. I loved cooking for my family as a tween, designing the menu, setting the table and creating the mood. Sometimes I would put on a show, too – bang out something weird on the piano. At nine, I was a mermaid fashion designer.

To answer you, it’s been a primal, lifelong instinct.

Outside your medium, which branch of art most stimulates you?

Sculpture. I occasionally dip into ceramic sculpture; it is a highly intuitive process because I take an automatic approach. Ikebana – Japanese flower arrangement – is another. Even within the confines of its design principles, there is ample room for revolt.

Creative make-up, not beauty per se, more like fine art for the face, is a branch of art I’ll swing to when craving creative expression. I also admire lighting design, land art, landscaping and topiary. Creative Foley art.

My older siblings used to record sound effects on a tape recorder when we were kids, and I had to guess how they created each sound. I loved that game.

Which artists have inspired you, and why?

Focusing on dance and movement, I’d say the early expressionist dance pioneer Mary Wigman. In particular, her costumes and not giving a f*** in 1926. Her far-out piece Hexentanz was a triumph and must have scared the shit out of everyone. I love that for her.

Maud Allan as Oscar Wilde’s Salome, dancing with the head of John the Baptist, was an icon of otherness. Spanish flamenco dancer and singer Carmen Amaya was the perfect balance between masculine and feminine. Mikhail Baryshnikov is the finest dancer of all time, a master of artistic expression. The dude is the GOAT. I often rewatch the opening scene of White Nights (1985) where his character dances with a table and a chair and then hangs himself.

Few things resonate with my being more than traditional African dance and drumming. It literally keeps me closer to the ground, which is something I need since I live mostly in my head. I am moved by the Japanese contemporary dance style butoh. I am not afraid of this “dance of darkness”. It reminds me it’s okay to decay.

What, to you, is art’s most important function?

Radical honesty.

Local creatives who excite you?

Darkroom Contemporary, led by Louise Coetzer, produces dance films and theatre performances. We collaborated twice on Autoplay, an AI-driven dance opera, which concluded at The Baxter Theatre earlier this year. I was part of the music team with composer Njabulo Phungula and musical director Brydon Bolton. Louise’s choreography is superb, an artistic delight; she stirs the pot and sets loose the spirits.

Which specific work, be it in literature, music or visual art, do you return to again and again, and why?

The natural world. I walk up the mountain with cupped hands, feeding my burdens to the boulders, imagining their gravelly gnashers chomping away patiently. It retunes me within minutes. Even an urban hike through the park can alter my pitch. Climbing a tree, listening to a bird or catching a cloud on the brink of bursting. Nature is a matchless muse.

What are your thoughts regarding the AI revolution?

It could benefit humanity, but I feel right now we’re heading towards techno slavery. It’s moving too fast for regulation. Tech giants need to adhere to the same code of ethics, with penalties in place to prevent the misuse of AI. I doubt the psychopaths running the world right now have anyone’s best interests in mind other than furthering their own fascist agendas.

Any project you’re unveiling or wrapping up?

I recently released Gif Groen, a solo single, and directed a short cine-dance with it. The video is a theatrical tribute to my background in music, dance and performance art. It’s layered, non-narrative and something you need to watch a few times. The edit is rhythm-based to the max, eliciting an entrancing effect. I wanted people to rotate their torsos while watching it.

The entire process was borderline supernatural; things fell into place. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I filmed the video with an all-female crew and Zootee Studios, a female-run company in Cape Town, sponsored the equipment. A follow-up single, Skeur, is in the works, and I am in the visualisation phase of my next cinematic offering. On to the next lyrical libation! DM

Mick Raubenheimer is a freelance arts writer.

This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R35.