UNLIMITED. Hook that word up with others – ambition, opportunity, creativity, access – and you’ll see why Unlimited is such an inspired title for a festival that challenges widespread perceptions of disabled people. While the 2012 Paralympic Games in London demonstrated the prowess, skills and determination of athletes who refused to be limited by degrees of physical disability, the 2012 Cultural Olympiad included a showcase of work that highlighted the vision, talents and quality of disabled artists across various disciplines.

Unlimited is now established as a leader in its field, not just in the UK but worldwide. Next week it comes to Scotland for the first time with Glasgow’s Tramway hosting an international programme of performance, visual art, discussions and exhibitions, rounding off ten days of events with a family day on September 25. Tim Nunn, programme manager at Tramway allows himself a broad smile, that says more than any words, that he feels Unlimited truly belongs here.

London’s Southbank was, and is, instrumental in making Unlimited an ongoing, high-profile project but, as he says with evident satisfaction: “Right from the start, there was a very strong Scottish presence on the 2012 programme – more, perhaps, than some people had expected. But we had exceptional artists working up here, and in terms of dance I think you have to look back at what Janet Smith brought into being up at Dundee. Because of that initiative we now have Marc Brew and Caroline Bowditch, making and performing their own choreographies, being commissioned by Unlimited 2012 and involved again in 2014. Marc’s new piece, MayBe, is part of the 2016 programme. You’ll see it next weekend.”

Nunn is referring to Smith’s decision, in 2007, to bring wheelchair users on-stage, alongside Scottish Dance Theatre’s regular personnel, in a specially-commissioned piece of inclusive dance. Called Incidence of Angels – and choreographed by Adam Benjamin, a co-founder of Candoco Dance Company – this was as much a statement about shared professionalism and artistry as it was an invitation to audiences to re-assess their understanding of disability and dance. Since then, Smith’s well-aimed pebble has sent ripples out, across the whole UK dance scene and beyond, not just on stages but in educational institutions too.

Claire Cunningham’s voice was her initial calling card, a soaringly exquisite addition to music-theatre productions by the (then) Sounds of Progress company. Comfort zones don’t hold out much interest for Cunningham. She decided to explore aerial training, took dance classes and even headed off to Pittsburgh for a six-week stint working on skate-board balances with Bill Shannon (aka Crutch Master).

“He taught me how to fall off them,” says Cunningham, with a glint of her trademark noir humour. Her own crutches have become a core motif in performances that draw on personal experiences and thought processes without ever being self-absorbed. The work has, however, burrowed tellingly under the surface of how disability is defined and addressed across cultures.

She’s already participated in previous Unlimited programmes, presenting her own work but also choreographing a large-scale piece for Candoco in 2012. Now, for 2016, she’s joined forces again with Jess Curtis, choreographer/director of the San Francisco-based Gravity company and just as much at home in Berlin, where Cunningham has appeared in his productions.

“We both talk a lot,” laughs Cunningham. But their bond of trust, friendship and artistic vision goes well beyond words. Their new duet, The Way You Look (at me) Tonight, reflects almost a decade of shared enquiry into aspects of physicality across all kinds of bodies, disabled or otherwise. Entering into their current creative discourse is author and philosopher Dr Alva Noe, whose ideas about perception as a “whole body” engagement have given food for thoughtful dance-making.

“How I see you,” says Curtis, “is partly based on how I look at you. If I choose to look at you in a different way, I can gain a whole new sense of who you are – and that can change my outlook on so many other things.”

Indeed, there is a moment in the piece where the taller Curtis lifts Cunningham to face him and they make direct eye contact – it catches, exactly, at the issues of perception they’re exploring in movement, text, video and humour.

Cunningham, as ever, is formidably honest, and compelling, when she talks about using crutches.

“I’m more aware of my relationship with the ground, because of them,” she says. “They are part of the way I move, and I’m starting to recognise, and study, how I choose to navigate the world – in every sense – because of that. My relationship with distance – and therefore the relationship I have with time – is part of what shapes my perception of the world. And how I move is part of how the world perceives me.”

On-stage, and not only in Unlimited, the world perceives Cunningham as a choreographer and performer who has unflinchingly used her crutches to prise open debates on disability while offering audiences work of astounding, visceral power. “For me, Unlimited has done extraordinary things,” she says. “And showing the work of disabled artists at Southbank took a lot of negative attitudes off the table. You don’t get to show work there unless it is of a certain standard. Unlimited raised positive awareness, and took everything to another level.”

There was no Unlimited when Candoco Dance Company was founded in 1991 by Celeste Dandeker and Adam Benjamin. It was to be the first company of its kind in the UK – a professional dance company focused on the integration of disabled and non-disabled artists – and, as it celebrates its 25th anniversary, it still excels at confronting what some would see as "no go" areas in terms of programming risks and left-field choreographic choices. But then Dandeker was adamant from the very beginning that Candoco was to function as a dance company and not a therapeutic project. Pedro Machado, a former dancer in the company and now one of its artistic co- directors (Stine Nilsen is the other) is clearly determined that Candoco’s sense of purpose is not going to lose that Dandeker momentum.

He still relishes the fact that, as part of the company’s Turning 20 programme, they re-staged Trisha Brown’s Set and Reset (1983). It will be seen again at Sadler’s Wells in October. “Set and Reset is a landmark piece of choreography,” he says. “And Trisha Brown is one of the greatest, and most influential living choreographers. We knew it would stretch the company – that’s something we are always up for. And we knew that our Set and Reset/Reset would be different from the original, but that felt exciting in itself. It’s not how Trisha Brown’s own company danced it, but there’s no other company who are dancing this wonderfully complex, fun piece the way we do.”

Machado describes an approach to repertoire that many a non-inclusive company would envy, not least in terms of the choreographers they commission. He talks of wanting repertoire that is bold and unexpected, repertoire that responds to the different personalities, as well as the different bodies within the company, and he holds up the double bill the company is bringing to Tramway as an example. CounterActs brings together two very different choreographers: Alexander Whitley, a classically trained dancer and Hetain Patel whose background is in visual arts – neither of them with any previous experience of working with disability in dancers.

“They are exciting new choreographers and we want to have those new voices taking us forward,” he says. “It’s like it would be with any commission. You come into a company, you take on the resources that are available to you. Hetain’s piece, Let’s Talk About Dis, is about identity – and it’s playful and it’s fun. But it’s also about our dancers saying to audiences that there is more to who they are than physical appearance, or disability. It’s our dancers opening up about themselves. You get a complete contrast with Beheld, Alexander Whitley’s piece, not just because of his classical background, but because he wanted to bring an eighth "dancer" on-stage – it’s a large swathe of fabric, and it challenges our dancers in very different and unusual ways. They have to focus on controlling and responding to something that is always going to be unpredictable. So yes, it’s a visually striking piece to look at – and Nils Frahm’s score is mesmerising – but again, it is a piece that is saying something to our audiences about how we address challenges, and how we respond to them.”

Twenty-five years after its inception, Candoco could easily sit on laurels of global acclaim, enjoy the ongoing impact on dance and disability that owes much to that pioneering vision of 1991. Not a chance. The watchword has to be: Unlimited.

Unlimited is at Tramway, Glasgow from September 15 - 25.

www.tramway.org/TUF