Henry Daniel: A Dancer/Scholar Choreographs the Future of AI

In some ways, Dr. Henry Daniel is exactly what you would expect from a professional dancer. He is fit and fills the room with energy. But then, on the other hand, his fascination with technology, philosophy, and performance, while at first a little bewildering, all begin to make sense once you realize dance is just one of the facets of his life and career. Now a resident of Mérida with his wife (who is also a dancer), Henry Daniel fills his days with dance and thinking about technology and what exactly it is that makes us human. 

Dance and Technology – A Conversation with the Transdisciplinary Artist Henry Daniel

Yucatán Magazine: Dr. Daniel, you’ve lived in seven countries, performed across the world, and now call Mérida home. What brought you here?

Henry Daniel: My wife and I were professional dancers, so we spent years traveling, seeing cities from hotel rooms and theaters, but never really absorbing them. Later, we’d return to teach at SFU, which gave us a deeper connection. Vancouver was our longest home, but we always knew we’d retire elsewhere. We considered Andalusia, even San Miguel. The third time we visited, we found this house and thought, This is it. The artistic energy, the history — even the geology, that Chicxulub meteor impact millions of years ago shaping the land — it all felt right.

YM: You’ve described yourselves as “contemporary nomads.” How did dance shape your worldview?

HD: Dance is more than movement—it’s about organization. William Forsythe, a brilliant choreographer, defined it as arranging bodies in an already-organized environment. That idea extends beyond the stage. When you travel as much as we have, you see how cultures, landscapes, and even technologies organize human behavior. Dance taught me to observe patterns—how people walk, how cities are structured, how machines mimic or challenge human logic.

YM: Your work merges dance with technology in unexpected ways. Where did that fascination begin?

HD: In the ’90s, I wanted to study AI for my PhD, but back then, no one could supervise that in dance. So I worked with a futurist, examining how performance and media intersect. Later, I collaborated with roboticists. One project used programmed vacuum cleaners to demonstrate emergent behavior—how simple systems create unpredictable outcomes when combined. It’s a metaphor for human complexity. We’re biologically programmed, yet we surprise ourselves.

YM: You’ve also explored colonialism’s impact on how bodies are perceived.

HD: Absolutely. Colonizers labeled Indigenous and Black people as “non-human” to justify exploitation. That dehumanization echoes in today’s debates about AI: What makes us human? If machines can outperform us in chess or calculations, does that redefine intelligence? I question the term “artificial intelligence” altogether. Intelligence isn’t just computation—it’s layered with consciousness, history, the physicality dance of it is a celebration.

YM: Speaking of history, you’ve archived 50 years of your work—12 terabytes of videos, writings, performances. Why?

HD: (Gestures to a computer.) That archive is my life’s laboratory. I have footage from my first choreography in 1978, reviews from high school performances—it’s all there. Now, I’m using AI to analyze it. Can machine learning provoke new insights? When I watch old work, I think, What was I doing here? AI might reveal patterns I’d never notice. It’s not just preservation; it’s a dialogue with my past.

YM: You’ve fought to legitimize artistic research in academia. Why was that important?

HD: In the UK, universities once only valued written research. When I defended my PhD, a scholar said, “Your thesis is great, but where’s your choreography?” I had to rewrite it to include both. Later, I helped pioneer “research-creation” in Canada—proving art generates knowledge. Grants followed, but the real victory was seeing dance and tech collaborations taken seriously. Now, as an emeritus professor, I’m still pushing: How can AI reinterpret artistic archives?

YM: Mérida’s geology seems to inspire you, too.

HD: How could it not? This peninsula was shaped by a meteor strike 66 million years ago. The limestone, the cenotes—it’s all a record of catastrophe and rebirth. A geologist once told me, “If you want Earth’s history, read the rocks.” Dance is like that. Our bodies carry evolutionary memory; choreography maps it. Here, the land itself performs its history.

YM: After all this, how do you define performance?

HD: (Smiles.) It’s a paradox. Scientifically, “performance” means optimization—machines calculating flawlessly. But human performance? It’s messy, emotional, alive. That tension fascinates me. Whether it’s a dancer improvising or an AI generating movement, both reveal something about consciousness. And consciousness—well, that might be the universe’s greatest performance of all.

YM: One last question: Are you (like me) one of those folks who say “please” and “thank you” to AI Bots?

HD: (Laughs.) Always! If we’re debating what makes us human, politeness seems like a good place to start.

Dr. Henry Daniel’s latest book, Cartographic Cortical Experiments, explores the intersections of movement, memory, and technology. He continues to collaborate on AI-driven archival projects from his home in Mérida and abroad at conferences and workshops.