I realised early on that I was never going to be a professional dancer.

My Grandma was a dance teacher, and studied with Martha Graham in New York. Throughout my youth I dabbled with dance classes and even took a dance GCSE, where I expressed my teen angst by dancing to Marilyn Manson. However, despite a keen interest, I lacked the ambition and talent to ever take it to the next level. After school finished I figured my dancing days were over.

Early last summer I saw that the Michael Clark Company were looking for 100 "non-dancers" to take part in a large installation piece at the Tate Modern. I thought that my interest in dance, combined with my lack of experience, made me perfect "non-dancer" material. So I applied and was accepted.

For weeks, me and the motley crew of volunteers (mainly arty twenty somethings, Michael Clark fans and dance enthusiasts) spent Friday evenings flailing around the Turbine Hall to David Bowie, desperately trying to learn the steps taught to us by Michael’s long suffering dancers. It culminated in a series of performances over the last August bank holiday weekend. Dancing in front of so many people was a terrifying but exhilarating experience. Michael’s choreography is so regimented and precise that if you make one wrong move, it will be painfully obvious.

When I heard that Michael Clark was looking for volunteers for part two of his Tate installation, I was immediately excited. From the start it was clear that this time was much more hardcore. Although they asked back most of the ‘non dancers’, we still had to do a daunting audition and commit to a very strict rehearsal schedule. Everything felt a lot more professional.

We initially practised in halls across London because the Turbine Hall was still full of Ai Wei Wei’s sunflower seeds. Rehearsals were much more intense and even though the dance was based on the one we had done last year, this time we couldn’t put a foot wrong. Tickets were going to be selling for £30 per person and the pressure was on.

Despite the heat being turned up, the whole experience has still been amazing and dancing again in the Tate feels brilliant. I had forgotten what an immense space the Turbine Hall is; it has the power to make everything seem small but somehow imbued with a feeling of significance.

On the night of the dress rehearsal we got to watch the real professional dancers in action as the company ran through their pieces for the show. It was incredible to see our teachers, who we know and love, being transformed into ethereal moving shapes with such power, control and beauty. It put all the worries about our dance into perspective, and us back into our place as ‘non dancers’. We are stressed, exhausted, aching and covered in bruises after working on a three-minute dance, and here they were, dancing for hours and barely breaking into a sweat. I guess that is why they are the professionals.

It has felt amazing to start dancing again and I think my 16 year old goth self would have been impressed that I got to bust some moves in the Tate. Although she would have preferred dancing to Marilyn Manson, she would probably have approved of our black costumes.

To find out more about the Michael Clark residency at Tate Modern, visit the website. Read Sonya's Time Out listing here.

Image of Sonya Barber by Narcsville.

Michael Clark Company image by Jake Walters.