Anima Session Volume 16
Showcasing Dancer and Movement Director Lela Oberegger
For me, there is something so special about seeing someone from the place you grew up and discovering the world she has made for herself beyond it. We both come from South Tyrol, where access to different creative scenes could be limited and some of what fascinated us first reached us through a screen. Listening to her now, I think about the girl watching dance videos at home, trying to learn movements she didn’t yet have the tools to understand, and the woman who can describe, with such excitement, the worlds she wants to create.
When she speaks, dance opens into music, fashion, performance, and images. She is drawn to the unusual: movement that might look strange, femininity that doesn’t have to be glamorous, something experimental that still finds its place in pop culture. There is a distinct taste running through everything she describes.
Now based in Barcelona, the dancer is finding her direction after training in Berlin and Copenhagen. Her story holds the excitement of entering rooms she had dreamed of, but also the pressure of comparison and the difficulty of loving something while losing the joy of doing it. Returning began with beginner classes, support, and space to move without constantly proving herself.
Today, she wants to bring her interests together through movement direction and her own visual projects. Listening to her, I’m struck by how clearly she knows what draws her in, and how much of her next chapter is about trusting herself enough to follow it.
How did dance first enter your life?
I actually really wanted to learn the violin. But I didn’t get a place in the class, and I cried so much. Then my mum spoke to a friend’s mum, who was taking her daughter to dance, and I went along too.
After the first class, I came out and said I never wanted to go back. Luckily, I went again. After that, I never said I wanted to stop. I was about six.
Until I was around twelve, it was mostly something I did once a week. Then I started watching videos from all the LA studios, Millennium, Playground. I also watched Tate McRae when she was still mainly dancing. I became really interested and started practising at home on weekends.
But I couldn’t really teach myself. I didn’t have the skills or understand what to pay attention to, and my English wasn’t good enough to follow everything. So I started trying more styles: contemporary, a little ballet, alongside hip hop.
When did you begin to understand what you loved about it?
I had a teacher I absolutely loved, and I loved her style. It was experimental contemporary. She had studied dance, and you could feel that she really understood what she was teaching. It wasn’t toxic at all. It was a really healthy mindset.
I had always loved performing. In primary school, my friends and I would prepare dances for school performances. But with her, I started understanding how to express an emotion. I understood more of the artistry behind it, rather than just thinking something looked cool or was fun.
Technically, I wasn’t very good. Remembering choreography was difficult for me. But I had musicality, my own style, and I could perform. Those were the things people gave me good feedback on. I think that helped me develop and eventually made me want to take it more seriously.
How did you find ways to keep learning?
I was open to different styles. I really liked hip hop too, but I didn’t have enough training to translate it into my body. Certain contemporary movements and tricks made sense to me more quickly, so I moved more in that direction.
At one point, I wasn’t allowed into a particular group at the dance association I attended. So I was basically like, “Bye,” and went somewhere else. In hindsight, it was a blessing in disguise. I had felt like I’d been there for years without learning enough.
At the other place, I learned more technique and improvisation and started finding my own style. During Covid, I trained so much at home: technique, Pilates, online classes. Basically all day. I really wanted to become good.
Where did that ambition take you?
At the time, I dreamed of dancing with Batsheva. I thought their work was so interesting. So I kept thinking: you need to get better.
I looked for training programmes, but couldn’t find something I could afford or get into. Later, I travelled to Portugal, and throughout that trip I kept saying that afterwards I would move to Berlin and study dance or go to a dance school.
When I came home, I had almost given up on that idea, since everything out there was so expensive. Then someone I’d met while travelling sent me a free training programme in Berlin. Another person shared a room that was available. Suddenly, it was possible.
The level wasn’t necessarily what I had been looking for, but the teachers were really good. They supported me, helped me improve, and recognised my strengths. That gave me more confidence. I started thinking: maybe I’m not as bad as I think I am.
What did you take from your time in Berlin?
After that first course, I auditioned for a dance programme lasting three years and got accepted. Then the school went bankrupt, and the whole programme was cancelled.
Luckily, the director of my previous course heard about it and asked if I wanted to do another year with them. So that’s what I did.
Sometimes I still felt that the group’s level was holding me back. But personally, I developed my style and understood more about what I liked and wanted to learn.
I knew I wanted to dance. Being able to train for several hours a day, five days a week, for that money, was a luxury. Individual classes are expensive. So I tried to take what I could from it and keep dancing.
What brought you to Copenhagen?
A friend recommended a school because someone she knew was studying there. I looked into it and became pretty obsessed. But it was really expensive. My parents supported me, and I’m genuinely grateful for that.
The school brought in incredible commercial, hip hop, and heels teachers, people working with major artists. They were exactly the people I wanted to learn from.
But if you don’t already have much experience in those styles, it’s overwhelming. We were learning new choreography every day, sometimes several pieces. I struggled so much to remember it. For the first six months, I had a lump in my throat almost every day. I kept thinking: I can’t do this. The level is too high for me.
At the same time, I developed so much that year. I think my style, personality, and improvisation helped me find my place and receive support.
How did you experience that environment?
It could be quite toxic. Sometimes it felt like, if someone was told they were good, people wanted to be their friend. If someone wasn’t as good, they didn’t.
I was a little older than many of the others and had more experiences and interests outside dance. I think that helped. But at the beginning, I still cried a lot and felt panicked.
My approach was to push through. Even if I felt terrible, I stayed in class. I didn’t give up. If I did less than someone else, that was okay.
Then we had a teacher who was such a sweetheart. He talked about mindfulness, about speaking kindly to yourself and treating yourself well while dancing. Through him, I started meditating and doing breathing exercises outside class.
I was still struggling, but I was also happy. Finally, I was in rooms with people I had really wanted to learn from. I’m grateful for what I learned as a dancer. Emotionally, though, it’s complicated.
How did your relationship with dance change afterwards?
For about a year and a half afterwards, I didn’t dance much. I still danced at home, alone, but I wasn’t enjoying classes anymore.
I think I had put so much pressure on myself. I tried to treat myself well, but I’m still very perfectionistic. I had struggled every day, and eventually I was fed up with the environment and parts of the industry.
In some commercial and hip hop classes, it becomes so much about being filmed, having a camera in front of you so you have a video to post afterwards. It isn’t always about learning.
I always knew I wanted movement in my life. But those classes didn’t feel right anymore. I was working in a restaurant and felt a little lost. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what.
Now I’m glad I took that break. I think a lot of what I’d learned only really settled afterwards. Sometimes taking a break is when you learn the most.
How did you find your way back?
I told my therapist that I wanted to start dancing again, but I was scared. I didn’t want to feel that bad again. She asked: why don’t you start with a beginner class?
And I was like, actually.
I started beginner ballet and later beginner heels. It was fun again. Finally, I was in a room where I didn’t have to show something all the time. I could just be there and enjoy myself.
It was supportive. I didn’t feel like I wasn’t accepted or that I would be excluded. Feeling safe in that room was important to me.
Through that, I slowly wanted to push myself again. Before then, I had pretty much given up on doing anything with dance professionally.
When did you begin to trust yourself with your own projects?
I was asked to perform for an art direction school. At first, I was really overwhelmed because I had to choreograph something myself. But it was also lovely that someone was asking me and trusting me to do it.
Often, I know I can do something, but I don’t want to do it because I’m scared. I’m such a perfectionist. If something isn’t good, I question myself more and more and think: I’m an impostor. What am I even trying to do?
For this performance, I had already said yes. And it was something I wanted to do, so I prepared. A friend was there while I choreographed and helped me. That made me realise I actually really enjoy it.
During the performance, I just enjoyed myself. I hadn’t been onstage for a long time. My boyfriend and two of my best friends were there and supported me. It was nice to finally enjoy the result of all that work.
Afterwards, I started taking more classes again. The beginner ballet class had been one key moment, and choreographing this performance was another. I had always told myself I couldn’t choreograph. Then I realised I liked it.
What draws you to experimental movement?
It can look strange. You can play with different things. It doesn’t always have to look beautiful.
Contemporary has so many approaches. Some are very technical, with particular shapes or pointed feet. In the more experimental work I’m drawn to, there’s more space for expression. You might flex your feet or do something that looks unusual.
Of course, you still need technique. But there’s room to play and make it your own.
What would you like to create now?
I really want to make visual work. Work with videography and develop a concept, something that isn’t necessarily just dance, but led by movement.
I love watching shows, fashion, and creators who use movement beyond conventional choreography. In a really strange but cool way. You can see that the person knows how to move. It might not look beautiful, but somehow it looks cool. That’s my taste.
I want to bring that taste into visuals. Maybe I’m moving, maybe someone else is. Maybe I’m directing the movement, finding references, and creating a whole world with music and everything around it.
Music videos, theatre performances, fashion projects. And being onstage myself. Those are definitely dreams of mine.
What inspires those ideas?
I’m really obsessed with pop culture. But I also love experimental, avant-garde performance.
I’m interested in something that makes sense within pop culture but has deeper references. Something researched, with artistry behind it. Not just a TikTok dance, but something with its own idea. Maybe something weird. Feminine, but not necessarily glamorous feminine, more weird feminine.
I think bringing those two interests together is my goal.
That’s also why I’m interested in photography, videography, and the visual side of fashion. Music, fashion, film, and movement all connect.
Now I want to actually make my own concepts happen. Feeling like I’m not good enough holds me back a lot. But I want to be able to say: this is my idea, and I’m doing it.
What do you want to pass on when you teach?
I want to teach things the way I would have liked to learn them as a beginner.
There are things I only understood much later. Musicality, for example: how do you understand music? How do you count it? How can you adapt your movement to it, or choose not to?
And having technique explained simply, rather than just being shown something and told to do it. If you don’t understand how to hold a position, you can’t really do it properly.
I’m interested in dynamics: how do you move your body? How do you control it? And how do you actually use what you’ve learned in choreography, rather than just doing steps?
Of course, performance and fun are part of it. Everyone having fun is a basic principle for me. But I also want people to learn something that gives them a foundation.
What place does Barcelona have in your life right now?
I never particularly planned to move here. I was living in Copenhagen when I met my boyfriend. He had lots of friends in Barcelona and wanted to leave Copenhagen. At the same time, I was looking at places to study, and there was a suitable programme here in fashion marketing and communication. So it happened quite randomly.
Now I’m slowly feeling settled. I think I still need to build a proper base for it to really feel like home.
At first, I felt like I barely knew any dancers here. That meant I wasn’t comparing myself so much. I could start again, work on my mental health, and build my own world.
Now I’m slowly meeting more people, which is lovely. It feels supportive. People have been open and friendly from the beginning.
What would you tell your younger self?
As a child, I didn’t overthink things so much. So I’d probably say this to my teenage self.
Please don’t think so much. You don’t have to know how to do everything already. You don’t have to be perfect straight away. You’re allowed to be who you are.
Think less and just do it. That’s still a big thing for me.
What does “Women in Motion” mean to you?
Moving through life in your own way. For me, that’s also emotional. Allowing yourself to be who you are, without thinking you have to be perfect already.
And honestly, every woman is a baddie in her own way.
Want to keep up with Lela? Find a link below to see her socials, and what she´s up to next.
