Composing for Dance: A Day at The Purcell School - Shevelle Dynott

Earlier this year, I was invited to The Purcell School by Alison Cox, the Head of Composition, to work with a group of incredibly talented young musicians. The idea was to explore how a dancer or composer might interpret each other’s work and how movement could bring their music to life.

I’ve done a bit of choreography before, but not enough to call myself a choreographer as such (though that might just be those little inner voices of doubt talking!). Still, this was something new and exciting, an opportunity I simply couldn’t pass up.

The Purcell School The Grounds

Arriving at the School

Walking into The Purcell School was a surreal experience. It felt familiar in some ways, probably because I went to a boarding school myself. As soon as I entered, I was greeted by a lovely receptionist and the sound of an organ echoing through the halls, a student deep in practice. Moments later, Alison appeared with a warm smile and such an open, friendly energy, exactly what I needed, because the nerves had definitely kicked in by then.

As we walked around, she told me The Purcell School is the oldest specialist music school in the country. I was genuinely amazed. You could feel the history and creativity in every corner of that building.

Meeting the Students

We eventually made our way to a classroom where students between the ages of 12 and 15 gradually drifted in. I introduced myself and explained a little about what I do. Then I set them a small creative challenge.

Imagine a being, perhaps an amoeba that suddenly finds itself alive. It moves, it experiences a moment of existence… and then it ceases to be. Now, express that journey through music.”

Immediately, questions started flying:

“Should it be for a solo instrument?”

“How long should it be?”

I told them honestly, “I don’t know, just do what feels right.”

They had fifteen minutes to create something. While they worked, I chatted with Alison, curious to see what would come out of such a short burst of inspiration.

The Magic That Happened Next

When the time was up, I wandered around the room, plugging into different headphones and I was completely blown away.

One student had written a piece for a full orchestra, full of rich textures and dynamic shifts. Another created something hauntingly beautiful on the piano. One had been writing on manuscript paper and then quietly picked up their clarinet to play a moving little melody. One student went full electronic, producing a piece that could easily have been played in a Berlin nightclub.

Their creativity, confidence, and imagination amazed me, especially considering how quickly it all came together.

Where Music Meets Movement

After listening, I spoke a bit about how choreographers sometimes use music as inspiration and how dancers and composers can collaborate to shape something new together. I demonstrated a few simple movements, showing how the same step can shift completely depending on the rhythm or tone of the music.

Then I shared a piece I thought had really shifted boundaries of ballet: the final scene of Akram Khan’s Giselle. It’s so atmospheric and poetic a perfect example of how sound and movement can fuse into emotion.

After that, I joined everyone for lunch in the school canteen (which was surprisingly delicious!) and later worked with one of the composers on a separate project — something I’ll write about in another post. I left that day feeling so inspired and full of ideas.

The Return Visit

Two weeks later, I was invited back to hear the final compositions the students had developed from that original task. What I heard absolutely floored me.

Each piece had evolved beautifully, thoughtful, emotional, and completely unique. Then Alison asked if I’d be willing to improvise some movement in response to each composition, right there on the spot. It was spontaneous, playful, and surprisingly moving.

That experience, collaborating with the next generation of composers, feeling

their energy and creativity is something I’ll carry with me for a long time. It reminded me why I love doing what I do: those rare moments when music, movement, and imagination all collide.