The choreographer, director and writer Kate Prince, 48, was born in Hampshire. Watching music videos on MTV inspired her to become a dancer. Since she founded her company ZooNation in 2002, she has shaped street dance into a popular theatrical form. She followed Into the Hoods (2008), the West End’s first hip-hop dance show, with Some Like It Hip Hop and The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, which premiered at the Royal Opera House. More recently, she used the songs of Sting as the soundtrack to Message in a Bottle, about the plight of refugees. She lives near Brighton with her husband, Leo, and seven-year daughter, Ella. Mixtape, celebrating ZooNation’s 20th anniversary, is at Sadler’s Wells, London, next month.
How are you feeling about ZooNation’s big anniversary?
I feel a mixture of things. My friend Teneisha [Bonner who died of breast cancer at the age of 37 in 2019] was so much a part of why I founded ZooNation and she was front and centre of all our early shows. I find it so upsetting since she died. It’s a struggle to find my feet in the company without her and to be in the space without missing her so much. It is a wonderful thing that this show is happening, but for me and quite a few of the old timers, it’s tinged with something very sad.
Did you ever expect when you started the company that it would be a dominant force in hip-hop dance?
No. None of it was planned. I just really liked dancing and making up dances and I liked dancers. It was that simple. It grew over time to become something a lot more, but at the start it was just a group of friends hanging out.
What do you think you have achieved?
I hope we have been a platform for a lot of artists to become true dance artists and to be respected in this style of dance. Twenty years ago, the opportunities to be in a dance company like ours were far fewer, particularly for women. I hope ZooNation has provided a platform for women and women of colour.
It seems to me hip-hop has become a much more dominant dance form in those 20 years.
Really? If it is dominant, I’d love to see hip-hop artists paid like they were the dominant artists. It still doesn’t have the massive history that ballet does so it’s going to take a long time for there to be the Royal Hip-Hop Company or whatever, which might elevate the budget of productions! But shows like Hamilton have stamped some commercial approval on hip-hop. In 2012, I was told by a leading theatre producer that my work would always be fringe because hip-hop would never be mainstream and would never be commercial. I’ve always remembered that. For me, it doesn’t matter what category something is. If it’s good, it’s good. If people like it, they will talk about it.
What drew you to hip-hop?
The way the beat makes me feel. The way it makes the body want to respond. I call it the head nod effect. It’s like a massive jar of honey. I adore the synchronicity of it, the large groups of people moving as one butt to a beat, not to ballet, not to musical theatre jazz. It is just brilliant. But I would never describe myself as a hip-hop artist and I would preach from the rooftops that there should be no rules applied to art. I am a guest in a house that isn’t mine; I am a white, middle-class woman from the country, not a hip-hop artist. I am a teller of stories and hopefully I have enabled wonderful hip-hop artists to tell great stories, but I wouldn’t cast myself as one.
Your musical Sylvia, about the life of Sylvia Pankhurst, was presented as a work in progress for a short run at the Old Vic. It never officially opened. Was that a low point?
Very much so. It was the first time I’d ever done a show that didn’t go to plan and there was nothing I could do to pull it back. To me, it felt like it was failing, and I was failing, and I was embarrassed and out of my depth. I stopped working for a while after that. When I started trying to go back to it, I had a lot of anxiety. But it felt like something that was unfinished. Five years later, I have finished it. It was a stretch. But if you don’t stretch, how are you going to get more supple? I feel like I tried, I failed, I am trying again.
How much has being a mother changed you?
It’s changed everything. I spend my whole life feeling torn and guilty these days. If I’m at work, I feel I should be at home being a mum and if I am home being a mum, I feel I should be working. But I love being a mum more than anything and if I had had Ella younger, I would have gone on to have many more children.
What would you be if you weren’t a choreographer?
Probably some kind of teacher, though I wasn’t great academically. I would hope I was still working with young people in some respects.
What culture do you enjoy outside dance?
We do a lot of family-friendly festivals in the summer. I love being in an environment where there is music everywhere. And also all the lovely food stalls.
Who is your dream collaborator?
I’d love to make something with Keone and Mari Madrid, who are a [Filipino-American] married couple who make choreography and are just brilliant. On my best day I couldn’t move like that! Other than that, I’d like Janet Jackson to give me the rights to all her music so I could make something out of that.
Mixtape is at Sadler’s Wells, London; 5 to 8 October
