People know that they're going to see something which is

“People know that they're going to see something which is entertaining but challenging as well because of the form it's in. It's dance theatre and it requires you to use your imagination — it's not straight forward.” – Matthew Bourne

In these thoughtful words, Matthew Bourne, the revolutionary choreographer and storyteller of modern theatre, speaks not merely of his art but of the ancient covenant between artist and audience. He reminds us that true art — whether born in movement, music, or word — is not meant to lull the mind into comfort, but to awaken it. The stage, like life itself, is not always straightforward. It asks that we bring more than our eyes; it demands that we bring our imagination. Bourne’s insight honors an eternal truth: that beauty and challenge are not opposites, but companions — one delights the senses, the other expands the soul.

For Bourne, whose works such as Swan Lake and The Red Shoes reshaped the boundaries of dance theatre, the audience is not a passive observer but a participant. His craft does not tell stories in words, but through gesture, music, and movement — through a language older than speech, one that speaks directly to the imagination. To watch such art is to be called into the act of meaning-making, to be asked to see with more than the eyes and to feel with more than the heart. It is a journey into the space between the known and the mysterious, where understanding comes not from explanation but from revelation.

In the ancient world, this kind of imaginative participation was the essence of all great storytelling. The Greeks, in their tragedies and dances, did not simply entertain the crowd — they summoned gods, wrestled with fate, and held up a mirror to the human condition. The audience did not merely watch; they entered the myth. When the chorus sang of sorrow or triumph, the people wept and rejoiced as one. Bourne’s theatre, too, carries this sacred lineage — the belief that art must engage the whole being, not merely inform the mind. He dares to make his audience think, feel, and question, blending pleasure with reflection, spectacle with insight.

To call something “entertaining” and “challenging” in the same breath is to understand the dual nature of creation. Many can entertain; few can challenge while they do it. Entertainment that only amuses fades like smoke. But art that entertains the soul — that stirs wonder, discomfort, and self-awareness — endures. Bourne’s words remind us that imagination is not a passive gift but an act of courage. It requires us to step beyond the surface of what is given and to find our own meaning. The artist’s role, then, is not to dictate truth, but to invite discovery.

Consider, for example, Martha Graham, the mother of modern dance, whose revolutionary work stripped away the glitter of ballet and replaced it with raw human expression. Her performances bewildered many at first; there were no fairy tales, no easy interpretations. But those who entered her world with open hearts found themselves transformed. Graham’s art demanded imagination, and through that demand, it gave her audience a glimpse of their own inner landscape. Like Bourne, she believed that movement could reveal truths too vast for words. Such artists are not entertainers alone — they are teachers of the spirit, reminding humanity of the power that lies within perception.

When Bourne says that his art “requires you to use your imagination,” he is speaking not only to the audience but to every human soul. For life itself is dance theatre — unpredictable, layered, and never entirely clear. It offers no straight paths, no fixed meanings. To live fully, one must learn to see symbolically, to interpret the gestures of destiny, to find beauty even in confusion. Just as the audience must bring their imagination to the stage, so must we bring our imagination to life — to perceive not only what is happening, but what it might mean.

Therefore, let this be the teaching drawn from Bourne’s wisdom: embrace the challenge of art and of life. When something is not straightforward, do not flee from it; step deeper into it. Use your imagination as a lantern to illuminate what cannot be explained. Seek art that moves you, not because it is easy, but because it asks something of you. For in that asking, your own soul is awakened.

The imagination is both the eye and the interpreter of truth. It allows us to see beyond words, beyond reason, into the realm where the spirit dances. As Bourne’s art reminds us, the most meaningful experiences — in theatre, in love, in life — are never simple. They are entertaining yet challenging, beautiful yet demanding, like the dance of the stars above the ancient world. So let us enter that dance willingly, guided by imagination, and become not just watchers of life, but participants in its eternal performance.