I have a sort of tactility about music. I go into record stores and just run my fingers over it, the spines.

It's so beautifully arranged on the plate - you know someone's fingers have been all over it.

It's so beautifully arranged on the plate - you know someone's fingers have been all over it.

When I started making dances in the '60s, narrative dance was sort of off the radar screen. What was important at the time in the avant-garde was minimalism.

I started formal piano training when I was 4. From there I had little violas, and I had dancing lessons of every sort and description, and painting lessons. I had German. And shorthand.

To survive, you've got to keep wheedling your way. You can't just sit there and fight against odds when it's not going to work. You have to turn a corner, dig a hole, go through a tunnel - and find a way to keep moving.