Hello graduates and congratulations!

My name is Khamlane Halsackda (pronounced calm-lan han-sak-da). I was born in Vientiane, Laos, and my family came as refugees to the UK in 1980 (I was 4), and aside from a few years being relocated around we were placed in London where I grew up, lived, studied and worked for most part of my life. Now I am married to a Dane (Andy), and I have a dog called Houdini. We have lived in Malmö, Sweden, since 2009. I call all these countries home.

Dance was never a consideration growing up. It was always being a doctor or a lawyer as was expected by my parents; real jobs thought to hold status and money. However, I guess all things creative had intrinsically been there in my blood since forever, and so perhaps it was inevitable where things would lead. I fell naturally into art. At school I won a handwriting competition, followed by a drawing competition, sketching, comics, writing, fantasy fiction novels, clay work, handicrafts, and then eventually into drama. 

At 16 I got into Lewisham college drama foundation course. Acting? My dad didn’t comment, my mum thought I’d be famous so she didn’t mind. I couldn’t have anticipated how it would change my life absolutely and totally. I was spending everyday with expressive, tactile, generous beings. I began dealing with understanding others and myself, emotional & honest things that I was too naive to grasp but ignited in me the desire to know. My new friends were from all sorts of backgrounds, and for the first time I connected to openly out queers. This was a far cry from the frustrating and heavy silences of my family life, and the beginning of realising that ‘family’ can be collected through those that I genuinely connect with. And so this was how things would go throughout my life; a drive for experiences, meeting people, learning from them, gathering a family.

Through the drama course I was introduced to a dancer, Jesse, from the other foundation course, and we became friends. One evening at her home she was stretching and doing some exercises and I joined in, copying, mimicking, to which she said ‘you’ve got a natural talent’. The intrigue of this comment hit me in the form of a small obsession. I started taking ballet classes at the local community centre (I was the only guy in a room of middle aged women), the harder I found dance training the more I worked to overcome it, and this led to auditioning for the dance foundation course which offered me a place. Dancing for a living? I would only do it for a year, so why tell my parents? But after a year I didn’t want to stop. I confessed to mum and dad but it was too late for them to stop me; I left home and began my pursuit of dance. 27 years on and in a way still obsessed, I’m a choreographer, director, dancer, performer, producer and teacher (each of which have sub-categories of self-taught skills).

When I list these things I think back to my 3 years of vocational training at the Rambert school (which by the way hold some of the best moments of my life). When I graduated it never occurred to me I would end up doing so many aspects of making theatre outside of being a dancer. Choreography yes, but everything else wasn’t part of the plan. All I thought about was the actual moment, the simple enjoyment of dancing and being creative. There was a purity unhindered by the difficult realities of being a professional. If I could give myself any advice on graduation it would be to hold on tighter to why I was dancing in the first place, because that essence must remain if anything is to make sense about a life in art. An authenticity existing outside any of the frames that may limit us as artists and creatives, and there are so many limits out there, including what you might have to indirectly learn.

My advice to graduates is to build yourself a close community of creative, honest and open minded friends. I really don’t think I would have made it this far if it wasn’t for the generosity of others. Never be shy about asking for help. Support has always served as a reminder that the loneliness one can often feel as an artist shouldn’t require that we struggle on like martyrs. Dedicating ourselves to an artistic life and being grateful for it does not mean to simply endure the hardships. It is a privilege to do art but it is as much a privilege for others that we do it. Why? Because throughout our lifetime we will always look to understand the world and communicate about it in ways that so many are afraid to do, or depending on where they are, are unable to. This stands for something. And remember art is everywhere, it’s just not always recognised immediately or overtly appreciated. As artists we may be viewed as queer/different because we exist slightly outside the expected norms, but know that this is our superpower. 

During this pandemic what’s been foremost on my mind is value and where we place it. I have always been an adaptable person, and this is a very useful way to learn no matter the circumstance, no doubt it’s also partly why I’ve made a living, but I think in the need to be adaptable I have compromised some things along the way. It’s a hard truth to admit, but I think it’s vital to confront it since it deals with having to make very difficult choices, and this career has been rife with them. I think in compromising I lost some of the value that connected me to why I started dancing. Yes, we all need to pay our bills, but in parallel we must remain clear that we always have a choice, and that the choices we make must be fully ‘woke’ and connected to questioning where our values lie. I think it’s a good way to keep consciously instigating change, and being aware if our priorities have shifted (because life happens). It’s easier than you think to be lost in a dance bubble.

With so many giant issues being shouldered by the world at this moment in time, when so much moves with uncertainty, I believe even more in the profound importance of imagination and creativity. It’s the life giver that will enable new possibilities. Keep inventing and finding other ways, stay present, keep confronting, risking, connecting, collaborating constantly, learning, nurture yourself and others around you, always be generous to your community, share your mind, and your skills. Again BE GENEROUS. These are things you will always have that money can never buy. I remembered quite recently and felt calmed by this; that at the end of the day and after everything, it all returns to being with the truth of our very human body.