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For more than 40 years, Scottish Ballet has been one of the most vibrant and interesting companies on the UK dance scene. It is a ballet company born of a well considered vision and the desire to prove that there can be good ballet without grandiose spectacle. Indeed, for many years it has been notable for its almost ‘chamber’-like choreographic repertoire, which has included intelligent adaptations of the great classics. Now a new chapter is about to start, as Christopher Hampson takes over the company’s artistic directorship, succeeding Ashley Page and an impressively illustrious roster of equally enlightened directors.

The term ‘fusion’ is a trendy one, which hints at the interaction of ingredients from different backgrounds in many areas of today’s culture. In dance, it often refers to the pairing of different genres, such as modern dance or hip-hop and ballet, or to the coupling of a distinctively western choreographic idiom with an equally distinctive non-western one. In Rian, the award-winning choreographer and performance-maker Michael Keegan-Dolan has opted for a more intricate game of combinations by weaving together Liam Ó Maonlaí’s splendid music — itself a powerful mix of influences and quotations — with dancing that draws upon a diversity of backgrounds and styles.

In its latest triple bill, the Royal Ballet pays tribute to three dance-makers who have marked distinctive epochs in its performance history. Its centrepiece is Frederick Ashton’s 1963 Marguerite and Armand. Created as a showcase for the now legendary partnership of Fonteyn/Nureyev, this one-acter highlights his unique talent for succinct storytelling, as Alexandre Dumas’ Lady of the Camellias is narrated through a rapid series of salient episodes. Ashton’s dance drama has none of the grandeur traditionally associated with either Verdi’s La traviata, or the cinematic works based on by the same text, such as Garbo’s memorable Camille. Here the story is treated as an intimate drama relived in the memory of dying Marguerite.

In 2004 Jérôme Bel, one of the most provocative performance makers of our time, created Véronique Doisneau, a solo for a Paris Opera Ballet artist who was about to retire. On the immense empty stage of Palais Garnier in Paris, Doisneau, in practice clothes, shared with the public reflections on her career, her favourite ballet moments and her thwarted dreams. The performance ended with a stroke of theatrical genius, when Doisneau highlighted the drabness of the corps de ballet’s lot by engaging, alone, in what the 32 swans do while framing the two principals in Swan Lake’s first duet. The solo, available on video and on YouTube, provided the blueprint for similar works, such as the more recent Cédric Andrieux (2009).

Britain needs more houses, and the government’s highly unpopular draft National Planning Policy Framework (NPPF) at least asks how to get them — the right question even if it gives the wrong answer. Anyone who deals with the planning system knows how overblown it has become, and that the cost and effort can exhaust a developer, to the extent that the good intentions of a scheme drain away at the crucial moment of building. The existing planning system may be imperfect but, if it is to be simplified, it needs to be better at eliminating bad designs, not the reverse. Prodigious amounts of brain power and energy have been devoted to making the well-intentioned suet pudding that is the planning system of today.

There is no better way to kick off a new ballet season than with a choreographic triple whammy. Which is what the Royal Ballet did last week, reopening with a sparkling performance of Jewels, Balanchine’s triptych. The last time I saw the company engage with the same three-part work, I lamented its far too poised and somewhat lacking-in-drive approach to Balanchine’s choreography. Things seem to have improved, though, as last week the dancing stood out for its vibrant attack and attention to detail — paramount qualities for the rendition of a work made up of three choreographically and musically different compositions.

Imogen Heap, the English songwriter whose gloves let her control her music with hand gestures, has perfected the art of delegation. While most musicians leave it to their labels to sort out a press biography, she forged hers from 1,500 contributions from her Twitter followers; where others endlessly pore over potential concert setlists, she lets visitors to her website choose hers. It’s what the 21st century has termed ‘crowdsourcing’, and Heap is now taking it one step further: she’s co-writing her fourth album with her fans. She’s brought out two songs from the album so far, and both have involved asking the public to contribute ideas: from musical snippets to recollections of slightly embarrassing personal experiences.

It is 50 years since what was formerly known as the Kirov Ballet — now Mariinsky Ballet — paid its first, legendary visit to London. Thanks to the commendable efforts of Viktor Hochhauser, the impresario who made that first visit possible, the company has become a familiar focal point of the London summer dance season. This year is no exception, with a rich programme of both classical and modern ballets. For its opening last week, the celebrated Russian company chose the work it is traditionally associated with: Swan Lake. Konstantin Sergeyev’s 1950 production might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it remains a classic in the ballet’s performance history.

After a few thematically uneven mixed programmes, the Royal Ballet takes its summer leave from the Royal Opera House with a nearly ideal triptych of works. Central to it are stunning examples of 20th-century choreography, which highlight the role that British ballet played in both making and consolidating the Western modern ballet tradition. As such, this triple bill comes across as more connoisseur-oriented than a flashy crowd pleaser. Balletomanes still get their fair share of starry dancing, though, for each work provides the principals with plenty of chances to shine. At the first performance, Lauren Cuthbertson and Sergei Polunin thrilled in Frederick Ashton’s Scènes de Ballet.

Call me biased, but I believe that my illustrious compatriot Giuseppe Verdi composed ballet music like no one else. It is a pity he never felt like penning a full ballet score, and limited himself to composing balletic interludes for his glorious operas. As demonstrated by the work of eminent scholars, he possessed the unique ability to mentally choreograph a ballet. His approach to ballet music thus started with a detailed visualisation of the action, which fed into the unique innovative fluidity of his balletic compositions. Take, for instance, the complex Peregrina ballet, composed for the Paris Opéra staging of Don Carlos. The demands of creating a work that would suit the hierarchy of the corps de ballet — i.e.

Some schoolboys used to know about Alexander the Great (356–323BC), how he extended the Macedonian Empire from Greece to India, cut the Gordian knot, and wept when there were no more worlds to conquer. Fewer schoolboys — or grown-ups — will know how skilled, and moving, the art of the Macedonian court was. Now they can, thanks to an exhibition at the Ashmolean, Heracles to Alexander the Great (until 29 August). Some schoolboys used to know about Alexander the Great (356–323BC), how he extended the Macedonian Empire from Greece to India, cut the Gordian knot, and wept when there were no more worlds to conquer. Fewer schoolboys — or grown-ups — will know how skilled, and moving, the art of the Macedonian court was.