I felt it would be a nice idea to share a little something about myself and put the record straight (so to speak)…here goes…

 

…Mark Edward is an artist, educator and entertainer (of sorts) and a creature of the night who has a love of old films, late evening chats, charity shops (I tend to deny that in public), animals, a good cry, a good laugh, good food and most of all a passion and belief in what I do best.

 

I am off beat, quirky, acidic, emotionally intelligent and a sharply tuned guy who knows what he wants but doesn’t always go about getting it the ‘right’ way. I’m the vulnerable sensitive artist in the studio who often appears to be the Fanny Craddock of dance in a lengthy emotional search for his long lost companion Jonnie, yet in the next breath ranting and shouting at all in ear shot of him. I was last heard cursing down the corridor, “why can’t Martha Graham just F*** off ‘n’ Die?!”

 

I’m the guy who can be misunderstood (according to who you are and what environment you are sharing with him at any particular time).  I’m the guy who is someone’s friend, brother, son, cousin, uncle, and God-parent and dance uncle to all those up and coming fledgling artists. I’m complex but not complicated. A no nonsense Northern lad with a no ‘faffing’ approach to creativity, education and life in general.
I have been described as "punchy", "the blond whirlwind", "academic thug", "edgy", "quirky", "innovative", "brutally honest", "sincere", "loyal", "humble", "un-orthodox in my approach to learning cultures" (hoooray), "Robbin Williams on crack", "Hitler of contemporary dance techniques" (Filip Van Huffel) "hardcore", "defender of the wronged", "tart with a heart" and most of all "a person who has integrity, fortitude and a compassion for all those who are on the margins of society who seek a better place of belonging".

 

Perched on the edge of a field is a red bricked end terraced house (I claim it’s a semi as there are only three houses)…work that one out! Here I can often be found inside (my semi) slumped on my new three seat sofa (ex display model) watching dodgy re-runs of Tales of the Unexpected on Cable TV (usually on a Friday night at 11.35pm) and awarding the woman who’s wafting her arms about in the opening theme tune (you know the one) a grade of a low 2:2 honours. Whilst my friends overdose on wine, salad (already washed and bagged) and infusion teas from around the world (cough, cough) I secretly overdose on copious amounts of Hylda Baker in Nearest and Dearest and have good ‘intentions’ to work off the historical build up of toffee from Mary’s little candy palace (the front room of her home turned into a shop) and chips from Anita’s Chippy during my early formative childhood years in Wigan.

 

I sit for long hours addressing my current creative mess, footage etc… in order to document it accordingly to satisfy my funding bodies and to ensure clarity in the re-visiting of choreographic rehearsal material for future use.

 

I seldom jog around or stretch out/warm up in preparation for the arduous rehearsals that are ahead of me, preferring instead to gaze out of the studio window (if I’m lucky enough to be in a studio that warrants a view!). I’m usually deep in thought often reminiscing about previous dancers that I have worked with, projects that have brought me the wonderful paradox of painful tears but at the same time much joy and past ghosts of doubt that tend to rear their ugly head when creating new work…. I go on and on about my latest personal upheavals and moaning that the Soya milk, from three weeks ago, has curdled whilst at the same time trying to politely refuse my dancers offer of an out of date Pot Noodle that they have found at the back of some dodgy kitchen cabinet!

 

I am to dance theatre what Gin is to Tonic. Both are needed to give it that extra kick! I have been joined at the bottle or hip with Dance since I first discovered it was a cheaper therapy plan (or so I thought!). A light switch clicked instantly as soon as a bit the apple of choreography and there came an instinct knowing in my bones, a knowing that I would become good friends with this art form called dance.
The rest as they say is history…

Take care of yourself and thank you for viewing my site.

Regards

Mark Edward.