MAD Zine for Arts and Culture (MAD): Anna, thank you for joining us. You’ve often said that holding space is a kind of art. Can you start by telling us what “holding space” means to you?
Anna Ádám (AÁ): Holding space is about presence, not performance. It’s the quiet work of creating a container where others can unfold, express, break, rebuild, risk, play, or simply be. It means not filling the room with your own voice, ideas, or ego, but instead shaping an invisible architecture of safety, clarity, and permission. To hold space is not to dominate, but to anchor and allow. To offer foundations and frames others can build on. To hold space is not to pretend to know everything, but to take responsibility. It’s not fixed. It’s a practice in movement, in constant evolution and adaptation to each singular person and group. Holding space is choreographing attention: observing, analyzing, adjusting. Getting closer and closer, step by step. It’s the art of the case-by-case. MAD: That’s beautifully said. What does this look like practically, in a workshop or group setting? AÁ: First, I arrive. Fully. I check in with myself before I check in with others. Because your nervous system, whether regulated or rushed, sets the tone for the room. Then I tend to the basics:
“Everything here is an invitation. You are always allowed to jump out, and jump in again when it feels right.” It sounds simple, but it changes everything. MAD: You often work with groups that are vulnerable, marginalized, or unfamiliar with artistic spaces. How do you ensure the space remains safe and brave? AÁ: There’s no such thing as a totally safe space, because we each carry our own histories, sensitivities, and wounds. What looks safe to me is not necessarily safe to you. So I don’t impose preconceptions and rules. But we can build safer spaces through slowness, consent, and attunement. And we can learn to become our own safe space. We make spaces brave by normalizing the unknown, and valuing curiosity. By not rushing to conclusions or final products. I acknowledge the process itself as part of the artwork. I name tensions when they arise, without panic. I communicate, I ask, I frame and reframe. Practically:
MAD: Many people think of the facilitator as the leader. You describe something different. AÁ: Yes. Maybe the name of the School (School of Disobedience) creates some preconceptions. But I do build vertical spaces where the facilitator takes responsibility and holds the space. That’s not oppression, it’s care. At the same time, I withdraw. There is a part of altruism in this work. My role is not to shine, but to create the conditions where others feel seen. I hold the frame so that the picture can appear. I open the door, so participants can cross it when it feels right. I never push people out of their comfort zone. I simply make sure the conditions are there, so it can happen when the time comes. It’s an active role, rooted in observation and deep listening. It takes intuition, empathy, and a sincere belief in others' potential. But it’s not about control, it’s about response-ability: The ability to respond to the moment, the people, and to what wants to happen. To adapt. To adjust. MAD: What advice would you give to someone just beginning their journey in space-holding? AÁ: Begin with yourself. Learn to hold space for your own discomfort, your own uncertainty, your own growth. Notice what grounds you. What softens you. What makes you curious. Then you’ll have something to offer. You will make mistakes for sure. Assume them. Accept them. Learn from them. Don’t imitate. Be yourself. Assume your voice, your preferences, your values. Facilitate from your own center. Are you quiet? Be the quiet facilitator. Are you playful? Use that. What matters is not how you perform the role, but how you relate to others inside it. And don’t try to be perfect. People don’t need perfect. They need real, sincere, and present. MAD: And finally, what do you wish more people understood about this work? AÁ: That it’s layered. That it’s political. That it’s art. That it’s alive. Holding space is not just a technique. It’s a form of relating to others. It’s organic, constantly transforming, and perhaps most importantly, it changes you and others in the same process.
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Author"I graduated from both ESSEC Business School and ENSAPC Art School in France. As a choreographer, cultural entrepreneur, and community activist, I harness the transformative power of art to build spaces, experiences, and communities. My artistic practice explores new poetic, fragile, and hybrid forms, spanning multiple mediums, including text, image, object, and movement. I create full-length dance pieces, short-format performances, immersive installations, multi-sensory community experiences. Over the past two decades, I've founded the School of Disobedience, established my own performance art company (Gray Box), and launched the annual Performance Now! Festival. I embrace everything unusual, unexpected, and nonconformist. I am not kind with assholes and have learned to forge my own path. I am here to guide you in thinking outside the box and achieving independence. To me, the real party is outside the confines of the established canon." Archives
May 2025
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