Barbee (once Barbara) Šuštaršič has been a Bolero member from the first day she started dancing. From dancer to choreographer and teacher, and on to receiving the IDO dance federation’s award for an outstanding choreographic contribution in the street dance show discipline. Barbra Drnač spoke with her for the Parada plesa portal.
Dear Barbee, congratulations on an excellent end to the season, crowned with the IDO award for an outstanding choreographic contribution in the street dance show discipline. The classic question: what does this award mean to you?
Thank you very much! Actually, now that I think about it, I am not sure I have truly taken the award in! The whole thing was so unexpected that the moment they called me up on stage I thought it was some kind of joke where we coaches would dance something or other; I certainly did not expect a microphone, a plaque and congratulations!
The award itself means to me the very thing we coaches and choreographers say to each other at every announcement of results: do you see how much effort and how many sleepless nights we put in before we hand it over to the dancers? With this award I can tell myself: ‘They see me!’
She received the IDO dance federation’s award for an outstanding choreographic contribution in the street dance show discipline this year at the world championship in Medvode. (photo: Girafon Studio)
Street dance show is a rather particular style which, if I am not mistaken, arose as a mixture of show and hip hop, in a way, with compulsory stage props. How do you experience it, or how would you describe it to us?
Street dance show is genuinely the discipline with which I began my path as a coach and choreographer at PK Bolero. It is, as you say, a mixture of hip hop / urban technique combined with show elements — a through-line, a story, props… The props are not actually compulsory, but they are the ideal addition, a way for a choreographer to turn a vision into a multi-dimensional spectacle. So: we dance hip hop / urban, add a story line and season it with props. We create a dance performance in miniature.
Even so, it seems quite hard to be distinctive in this style, since choreographers and dancers have already ‘lived through’ every profession, every state, every prop, from chimney sweeps to professors, from cooks to animal roles. How does one stay inventive in it, and what inspires you?
My greatest inspiration is the dancers and the music. I always start from the dancers in my care, from their characters, their energy… The music comes, I feel it; I often work it into the warm-up to see the dancers’ reaction, whether they feel it too. The story develops in my head, in dreams, sometimes on paper, in the studio. It is hard to give a formula, as it changes and adapts from year to year. Just as we people change, so do groups, and so do I. But it is certainly the people and the music that pulls both them and me that make the title of a new piece. I always start from the music and from what is hidden in that particular track. If something does not fit the track, I do not include it. If it does not go with the music, that ‘famous’ move that happens to be popular will not be there. Ideas always come from the music and the dancers surrounding me at that moment.
I assume I have found you somewhere on a beach with your family. It has been a long season, hasn’t it? What kind of season is behind you?
That’s right! At the moment the family is in the grip of football fever, my child is overjoyed to have me all to himself, and I am enjoying the heat and the sun with a book. Our competitive season is not over yet. Behind us are the European hip hop championship, held in June in nearby Klagenfurt, the national championship at the end of June in Medvode, and the world championship in street dance show in July, also in Medvode. In the summer, dancers and coaches take a well-earned holiday, and in October the world hip hop championship in Poland awaits us. Those are only the major competitions under PZS and IDO; besides them we have seven weekends of cup tournaments and many dance festivals behind us.
Part of an interesting season lies behind me. Very packed, quite demanding in terms of time, but fulfilling all the same.
I am especially proud that, as a lecturer in dancehall technique at the Alma Mater Europaea Dance Academy, I was able to follow the first generation of students in the Urban field and to take part in preparing the choreography for their closing event.
But let us go back a little and remind readers of your beginnings, which perhaps even you have half-forgotten, hehehe. Who inspired you to take up dance, which replaced karate?
Hehehe, you never forget your beginnings! Everyone around me wonders how I remember so much. Dance was always with me. Dancing in my room to Michael Jackson, to adverts on TV, to audio cassettes, to vinyl records… but I was so lacking in confidence that nobody ever saw little Barbara perform, until karate came into play. Karate was what pulled me out from under the blanket and gave me the strength to enrol at Bolero on Drenikova Street. Why Bolero? One fine summer day my friends (fellow karate students) and I went to Trg republike in front of Maxi for the StreetBall Challenge, because besides karate I also trained basketball and because StreetBall was something no teenager could miss — and there was Gene Zeneli’s hip hop crew… a dance performance that marked me for life! During the performance I said to my friend: ‘I’m going to Bolero! You can come with me, I’ll go with you, or I’ll go alone.’ It was the moment when I was ready to do something on my own, without company, without my mother or father — alone. Karate certainly deserves the credit for that strength, and it stayed on my timetable alongside dance until the middle of secondary school. So the inspiration was truly the music, and the turning point was Gene’s hip hop crew.
And you were a Bolero member from the start, weren’t you?
Of course, a Bolero member from day one of my dance path. As a competitor, Bolero was always my club — even at the moment when we were left without a coach, I stayed loyal to the club.
You did change your name, though. Did you too (like me, hehehe) meet a numerologist one strange day and become Barbee?
No, hehehe — I did do a little numerological calculation myself, but the decision to change it officially was more about my career and about the fact that even professors at university called me Barbee. I really did not like the nickname Barbi in primary school. And in secondary school there were two Barbaras in our class, so something had to change. Šuštaršička was out of the question, but I liked it when a family friend started addressing me as Barbee. It was different, it was appealing, the administrative unit agreed, and here I am. Barbee.
The ending bee rather suits you, too, doesn’t it? Diligent, hard-working and constantly in motion…
The nickname really has turned into that, though I think the hard work comes from character and upbringing. Being constantly in motion is perhaps genetic, since for as long as I can remember my parents have not sat still for a second.
What do you think has changed most from the time you started dancing to today? Where is the biggest difference?
Oh, a question that could be the theme of an entire novel. The biggest difference is certainly the mentality of dancers, coaches and audiences. The problems parents and teachers face are the same as those we coaches and choreographers face. A lack of concentration and motivation, disrespect and a lack of persistence are pretty much standard. As for the problems dancers face, those of us over 25 probably can no longer even imagine the pressure today’s young people live under. What certainly saves dancers is having somewhere to escape to a few times a week without the pressure of school, social media, peers, perhaps even parents.
Styles of dress, of dancing, of music all change… Certainly, at my beginnings I was not burdened by Instagram, TikTok and the like. We had MTV; we recorded music videos onto VHS tapes and watched them on repeat. There was no swiping on to the next thing. It seems to me our generation was far more persistent than they are now.
You are indisputably an active part of the competitive scene. What do competitions mean, why are they good, and what, say, do you not like about them?
Slovenia is a very competition-minded country. I think most participation of any kind is viewed through competitive spectacles. I often hear grandfathers, aunts and relatives, when a young dancer proudly says we had a performance, reply: ‘Oh, and what place did you get? Did you win?’ The concept of competitiveness and comparison is evidently deeply ingrained in our consciousness. To my mind that is something I do not like. It is not all about competitions and wins. More important to me is the dancers’ general progress, the experience they gain from competitions, their connection on stage and off it, their dedication and desire to dance, their willingness to shine. Competitions are not everything, but they are certainly good motivation for young people, since they represent a goal to work towards for at least a whole year. I notice that today’s children and young people are without a vision or a goal for anything. Our competitions give them a goal (even if only briefly), a structure they have to keep to. What I certainly do not like is excessive competitiveness, bad moods when things are not ‘our way’, malicious tongues, envy, unsporting behaviour… fairly classic things that seem to me very specific to the Slovenian dance scene.
And what do you do when you are not dancing? What do you devote your free moments to?
In recent years I devote every free moment to my family and to our mischievous three-year-old. It is true that we dance together a lot, but once he falls asleep I gladly pick up a good book.
What does dance bring into your life every day?
Dance is my life. From a hobby, through student work, a regular job and a career, dance is also food for the soul. Relief when something goes wrong, learning, adaptation, company, structure. Even if I did not work in dance to such an extent, dance would certainly be part of my life in some other way… I often catch myself simply dancing freely to whatever music happens to be playing on the speakers.
The traditional PP question to close. Why dance at all?
A simple answer: ‘Why not!?’
Thank you, and enjoy the rest of the summer.