SODA Works 2020

The publication encourages transversal readings and can be interpreted as a companion to the work of the SODA year group 2018-2020. During the two year process, the students were invited to critically challenge, reflect and develop their artistic practice.

The publication encourages transversal readings and can be interpreted as a companion to the work of the SODA year group 2018-2020. During the two year process, the students were invited to critically challenge, reflect and develop their artistic practice.


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AGENCY 6 / 8 / 22

ALGORITHM 6 / 8 / 22





18 / 22


BODY 10 / 14 / 18 / 26


CIRCUS 2 / 18


15 / 20

CODE 6 / 22


/ 9 / 10 / 17 / 20 / 22

/ 26




10 / 26



DANCE 2 / 7 / 8 / 12 /

14 / 20

DRIVE 2 / 10



DISTANCE 2 / 7 / 22



15 / 18


10 / 28





/ 22

FIELD 10 / 15

FLOW 2 / 10


GAME 21 / 22

GAP 13 / 16


HOSTING 21 / 22




6 / 12 / 14 / 20 / 22 /

27 / 28



INTIMACY 2 / 10 / 18

INTUITION 3 / 12 / 14

/ 18



10 / 17 / 25



LIMINAL 10 / 25 / 26


MAGIC 4 / 10


NONSENS 2 / 25


OPENING 2 / 10 / 15

/ 18




PRESENCE 2 / 12 / 25

PROCESS 6 / 8 / 12

/ 15



REAL-TIME 2 / 12


18 / 25




RITUAL 3 / 13 / 14 / 20


SCALE 9 / 24

SELF 13 / 18 / 22


SILENCE 16 / 27 / 28

SOLO 2 / 6 / 8 / 12 / 14

/ 22 / 26

SOUND 12 / 20 / 26

/ 27

SPACE 7 / 14 / 26





15 / 24 / 27 / 28



SYSTEM 8 / 22




TRUST 16 / 21

TUNING 12 / 15






/ 9







“Henceforth the writer [dancer, performer, artist, spectator] is immersed in multilinguism,

which does not mean that he necessarily speaks or writes in different

languages, but that the language and the culture of other languages and cultures,

are always there in their multiple resonances, indispensable, and infusing his own

cultural expression, in one way or another.”

Bernadette Cailler on Édouard Glissant: Journal of French and Francophone Philosophy 19/1, 2011: 145.

This publication comes with a glossary index on its front cover: an unfinished list

and collection of terms and ideas resisting completion - always to be revisited. Some

words might feel familiar, others less so. Either way, during the artistic research and

working processes of Kuba Borkowicz, Bernardo Chatillon, Jorge De Hoyos, Jason

Corff, Ana Lessing Menjibar, Minna Partanen and Rhyannon Styles these words

have gained momentum and been repeatedly identified with increasing specificity

and in this iteration, accompany their final performance presentations for the MA

program. Although the glossary and its alphabetic arrangement might suggest

order, an overview or some kind of proven expertise, much of what it references

lies in between its terms, best experienced fully through physical explorations,

choreographed and improvised movement and embodied experience, focused

theoretical encounters and incommensurable speculations, via small-scale, latent

details of the everyday or strolling the streets together and gathering around food

and drinks. To approach this, the publication encourages transversal readings. It

is more of a companion to the work than a documentation of the two year process

which invites students from diverse backgrounds and disciplines to critically challenge,

reflect and develop their artistic practice. Accompanying those individual

technical and theoretical skills brought into an academic setting, in dialogue with

an international community of peers and teachers.

While the focus of the MA SODA program is on the specific, individual

body and movement-based performative practices of all participants, it also

seeks to provide and open up a collective learning and research environment. The

philosopher Édouard Glissant, in conversation with filmmaker Manthia Diawara,

speaks of the necessity to “consent not to be a single being.” 1 His phrase, however,

does not claim consensus and normative imagination, actions, values or rules. It

is not about hasty alignments and quick declarations of sharing and complicity.

Rather, it encourages us – artists, thinkers, audiences and citizens – to question

ever anew what brings and holds our individual bodies together, and what tears

them apart: what defines a body’s singularity while acknowledging its manifold

perceivable and non-perceivable bonds and commitments to the contexts and surroundings

in which it is embedded and in dialogue? The question of how to open

up in our individual dances, performances and writings – which the conversation

at the end of this publication addresses - considers alternative and collective ideas

of agency and responsibility immanently bound to moving, thinking bodies. In

Glissant’s terms, seeking to access a “poetics of relation” 2 , which navigates the

challenge of not reducing other bodies, the body of the other, to existing models

of that which we are ready to recognize.








1 Édouard Glissant and

Manthia Diawara: „One

World in Relation,“

trans. by Christopher

Winks. Journal of

Contemporary African

Art (2011, 4-19).

2 Édouard Glissant:

Poetics of Relation,

trans. by Betsy Wing

(Ann Arbor: University

of Michigan Press 1997).

Sandra Noeth for the team of the MA SODA

Prof. Rhys Martin (program leader), Sophia New, Prof. Dr. Sandra Noeth






Embodiment does not

have to do with my human

body but with the

relationship between

my body and other bodies,

whichever matter

they are made from.

Imagination and ideas

are embodied when we

give them a shape, that

is what making staged

pieces is about.

The experience of being Bernardo is a fractal. Dance is an intermediate space for

this fractal to emerge. All intermediate spaces are possible spaces to live in, invisible

and visible. My intermediate space is based on what I experience in life. In my

dance there are uncomfortable places; my dance is about paranoia, manipulation,

violence between bodies, sex, fear, complexes, shame, terror, loneliness, panic, a lot

of panic attacks, a lot of food to hide the pain and the crying, despair, my mother, my

father, my grandparents, uncles, cousins, the neighbors around my neighborhood,

the courtyard, heroin, blood, knives, weapons, television at lunch, television at

dinner, television at breakfast, Jean Claude Van Damme, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold

Schwarzenegger, DJ Quicksilver, Freddy Krueger, sad meals, policemen, Brazilian

soap operas and trying hard to be a good skater, trying hard to ride a bike on only

one wheel, trying hard to do sports, trying to be good at something, working, working

to have money at McDonald’s, falling in love, falling in love, falling in love, love

sometimes allowed and forbidden, a lot of fantasies, real danger, moments of death,

some scandals, moments of clearness, inspiration, a lot of strength, motivation, until

now -- this moment, where I believe is the place I project the plays where I make

the future, the plays where I own the narrative, I shape, I own and I create. I am a

consciousness having the experience of being Bernardo.


what happens 24 hours

a day. Improvisation

is always happening

even when we follow

habits and patterns, it

is the breath of fresh

air, the key for us to

become witnesses of

our actions, it gives us

agency. If we notice we

are always improvising

we may understand

that we can change the

course of our actions.

Improvisation is eradicated

by political and

economic structures of

power: the possibility of

citizens realizing they

can change the way

they follow systems

and rules.


Imagine you go to a place where you are asked what is most relevant and important

to you. This is SODA. Then you are asked to show answers to these questions and

explain how you found them. This is also SODA.

So, how can I access, show and translate an idea and concept that is so ingrained

in layers and layers of habits of speech, thought and movement? How can I dig

through those layers to uncover the answers? In this process of digging I have

revealed a part of me that creates stimuli and generates questions that give me

new options to reflect on what I say or do. These reflections make me critical of my

means of expression. The possibility to have time for self-criticism and -reflection is

a candy, a present, a privilege. What have I done with this? I returned to my origins,

back to my family. To the smile of my grandfather when he did magic tricks for

us. What was this childhood aura that made me feel alive and connected? It was

an environment of magic, and when I said this word I started to think about what

is magic, what is this concept and as it emerged in me I was reminded of the way

in which I entered the dance studio: as if there were two different worlds, one I

inhabited as a child and a new one there in the studio, of rehearsal and practice.

But they are not separated...

During my time at SODA, I went home to see my grandfather

and he asked me what I was doing in Berlin. I told him that I go to the studio and

there I am a kind of scientist looking for ways to speak about the world and my


experiences, ways of relating with people and making dance pieces. For example,

I believe that in the future people will be able to fly so I go to the studio and

I try to fly in the studio. And my grandmother says, “You are crazy just like your

grandfather with all that stuff about magic and tricking people.” But it’s true. I

go to the studio, I stand still and don’t move for an hour and then strange things

start to happen. “See, that’s witchcraft!” “No, but if you stop that fork with food

on the way to your mouth don’t you start feeling things? That’s what I do in the

studio. I wait for it to tell me things.” And my grandfather says, “That’s like when

I am making magic tricks and people are waiting for something to happen and

try to understand what is the trick.” “Yes, but in my case when I go to the studio

I trick myself into waiting for the magic to happen and then I try to repeat these

experiments and show them to the people in school.”

This is what I am doing when I work with concepts of real-time

composition and improvisation in my work: I read the space and the audience so

that I can react and create my tricks on stage. My grandfather knows the tricks he

will do, but he always has to contextualize them, which has to do with reading the

audience and the space. What interests him is to insert dynamics into the space and

to activate it. As if he is orchestrating and modulating the space through his voice

and movements. When I go to the studio I work with movement, words, time and

space of the studio to create my magic trick, my piece. When I explained this to my

grandfather, he asked,“That’s all very good, but how can you be sure that you will

produce in the audience that moment when they get amazed, like when I reveal

that the toothpick they broke isn’t really broken?” “I don’t know yet...”


· Don’t get lost in the map.

· Easy Going Going Easy

· Intuition and free association are the grounds for my process.

· Everything is visible and part of the stage, audience included.

There is no way to exit.

· The project asks for the medium. The content asks for the form.

· Real-time composition is just one possibility.

· Improvisation is a political weapon.

· Giving attention is a process of civilization.

· The aim is always different.

· Studio practice affects the real and the logical.

· Words serve to distract and confuse: use this in your favor to find

what is already there.

· Words serve to focus and clarify: use this in your favor to find

what is already there.

· Seek satisfaction. The satisfaction with yourself, the world, reality.


a practice that disrupts

and dismantles perception.

This rupture grants

access to other ways of

gathering and generating

knowledge of the

world as a complex and

non-linear entity. The

body knows the world is

not as linear as it is portrayed,

so it accumulates

pressure and tensions,

as it faces the conflict

from different perceptions.

Creating artistic

work is a way to develop

rituals that acknowledge

both the world and time

as non-linear paths.


This is the source of all inspiration and the impulse to create.

· Seek dissatisfaction. The dissatisfaction with yourself, the world, reality.

This is the source of all inspiration and the impulse to create.

· All spaces have their mysterious zones. But if we enter spaces as a tourist,

we do not have access to the mysteries of these zones.

· Rituals give structure; structures are endless.

· Technique is what allows me to continue independent from motivation.

· It is time to return to oral tradition.

· No one taught me how to walk, I copied a vertical template.

· No one will teach me how to levitate, I need a levitating template.

· Beware of sleeping and waking up.

· Remember to recall or revisit moments where I have experienced Magic.

· Use suggestion and visualization as generative tools.

· Create a glossary for each creation.

· Work with invisible collectives.

· The topic - the visualization - the experience - the repetition - the frame.

· Choreographic memory is a thermometer to see if we were present

during a research process.

· Waiting is a tool, but it can also be something else.

· Music and objects work when you are not dependent on them to keep

the energy you search for in your dance.

· A solo is a duet that becomes a familiar monologue between generational

layers of the body.

· What do you eat, what do you think, what do you say before and after

you go into research?

· My generation is experiencing an era of perceived and non-perceived crises...

I want to work on a non-perceived crisis. How do I manifest this?















I am looking for a place with people that believe the world is beyond what we

see and that there is a lot of artistic, political and social work to do between the

visible and the invisible. I want to find this place, so that together we can access

these worlds that are not logical or practical or clear. In order to do this, I am creating

practices through which I can access insights that help me shape and refine

intuitive processes. This is one example, where for three days I sat in my room

working with CA Conrad’s somatic writing exercises.


levanta voo


para matar



o livro

dentro do





o Raio











que não há

O gordo nos


é Júpiter

Arvore de



uma linha mais


a luz

nas unhas

na pele

no centro

no meio

o braço

o braço a



os dois no mesmo


estão a rodar


um Laço na



limite lento


aldeia de



não há



nos teus






na ponta


calaram-se as




calaram-se as



o frio



a criação


sou filho de


vi assim



soltar a





as coisas merecem


As coisas merecem


eu sou todos menos

esse mesmo



vou sentir



no inferno


Sou peso





mais nada



Acontece o




o segredo

a dança em





o que me



este mundo


Á imagem do que podias


abro a porta


vou à volta

pela chapa do


o cheiro da cozinha


visual perdido

a minha lingua

desenrola-se as patas


assumo a forma


acelerado vou ao


No menu do teu estomago,


fez-me num



a minha cara


o que esperas ser


lagarto neste


o tempo








desejo mál



as botas que tu


a tua cara



entre as narinas uma



livros atrás de


os anos que


atras de mim


esta vergonha


despe em


o teu

aos olhos

a minha avó na cozinha

a prever

o que tu




e mesmo assim

continua-va a


a preparar






do mercado

morre César


riso louco

Ela cozinhou

nós todos


não te








o bom nosso de cada











de cima a








o amor deixa as




monto em cavalos e




uma côr






Agora que te


sabes igual

O que te deram


todas as




faz-se em ti






só sobras

a morte



perto de voar


a bacia



nada me



se saíres por onde


nunca tivesses




Na maçã as







poema de rua











quantas vidas



quantas vidas



quantas vou


até me olhares nos


agora que me



que fazer


o que se sabe

é isto que se

nada se forma

em nada



sem dar as


sentimos o




um x que se


promete a tua









sempre gostei

entro mais

sou e sei

mais aquilo

mais forte





Levanta voo.





A stochastic process, a

system of rules that can

be used as a predictive

technology. One system

that allows its user to

know an outcome or at

least have a semblance

of an outcome before a

process is undertaken.


Mask for information

to hide importance,

intention and meaning.

A code is its own language,

a way something

understood by one is

communicated to others.

A code’s reader could

decipher meaning different

from what its maker

intended. In this case,

a message could be

skewed or reinterpreted.

It could be broadened; it

could be narrowed.


Excerpt from a transcribed conversation with self while moving.

09.09.19 11:05 N 52˚ 33’ 11.693” E 13˚ 22’ 36.891”

Here. Arrival. Here. Here is a closed system. Here is a location. Here is definitively

different from there. Here can be defined by what it is not. Not far away. Not in

the past. Not in the future. Here. Here can be shown with coordinates. Here. It

can be shown with time. Here. Meaning more than coordinates. Meaning more

than a moment. Because here indicates presence. Here could be shelter. Here

could be food. Here might be what you find or what you need. Here includes you.

Here indicates you have arrived. Here is no longer there.

Arrival. Arrival is a point in space with meaning. Arrival is an

intentional location. You are aware you have arrived when you can say, “I am here.”

Here. Begin. Arrival is not just here. Arrival indicates now. You cannot arrive at a

place unless you intend to be there. You cannot arrive unless you arrive early, late,

or on time. You have arrived. Your destination becomes a point of arrival. Here.

You have arrived when your presence, your awareness, enters a point in space.

At that point and that moment, space becomes place. Place has meaning because

you define it through your presence. That point in space is here. Arrival. Arrival

is a stopping. Arrival is an end. Arrival always involves here. Always.

Because here is a point in space, because here is a point with

meaning, always here becomes place. Here is where intention leads. A point of

arrival. So here is linked to time. Here is the endpoint of a journey. Here is defined

space. Here is a closed system. And here is fleeting. Here cannot stay. When you

step away from here, your understanding of here shifts.

Here. There. Not here.

The difference between here and there: between here and not

here is not here always represents a loss. Not here is never present. Not here is

unattainable. It’s unreachable, forever behind you, and forever in front.

You can never say, “I am not here”, but if you know where it is

that you are not, you will always know you are here, that you have arrived. Here

is the present tense. Here is a moment in time, always now.

A walking score sends you into the landscape. A walking score

prejudges distance. A walking score determines your journey, your expedition,

your there. But a walking score relies on you to recognize when you are here,

when you have arrived. It is your endpoint that has meaning and your endpoint

that you carry at all times. Your sense of here, your sense of now, your sense of a

different closed system.

Arrival. Here. Begin.


We think of distance in

terms of both space and

time. To cross distance

requires a journey, a

measurement, to understand

you have traveled

from here to here. Distance

is a gap that contains

the entirety of this

journey. Distance can be

measured, but it cannot

rightly be predicted

because distance holds

experience yet to be.


Walking Score, No. 2


A survey of the space

before us. Landscape

involves textures,

relations, challenges.

Landscape is a habited

space. Landscape

can be traversed. A

landscape can be

familiar or it can be

alien, but a landscape is

always known to Some.

To others it may need

to be found or experienced,

but to Some it is

always familiar.

What you will need:

1 deck of Tarot cards

1 landscape to explore (e.g., city, plaza, park, orchard, living room, etc.)

1 camera

π= 3.14159265358979323846264…


1. Shuffle the Tarot deck thoroughly. As you shuffle, ask yourself “What shall I

focus on as I walk?”, or use a similar phrasing that resonates more strongly

with you.

2. When you have finished shuffling the cards, place them in front of you.

3. Select the top card and turn it over.

4. Focus on the details in the imagery of the card. Rely on either your preexisting

knowledge of Tarot or a guide such as one included with the deck, contained

in A Complete Guide to the Tarot by Eden Gray, on a website, etc. to familiarize

yourself with the meaning of the card.

5. Note the number of the card (e.g., 7 of Wands, card 9 [The Hermit], etc.). For

non-numbered cards, use 11 for a Page, 12 for a Knight, 13 for a Queen, and

14 for a King. This number will become the number of decimal places of π to

use for the next section of this score.

Example: Card 14 [Temperance]- an achievement of mental balance,

adaptation, coordination, modification. Successful combinations.

π is calculated to 14 decimal places at 3.14159265358979

6. Each digit of π will determine how many units you will walk before making

a turn. A turn can range from 0˚-360˚. This choice is yours, either as a firm

decision to make prior to beginning your walk or in the midst of the structure.

Turns will alternate right and left with each successive digit.

7. Decide what will constitute one unit for the walk you are about to begin. One

unit could be one city block, one paving stone, the duration of one song you

listen to on headphones, etc.

8. Begin the walk when you are ready. If the number of the card you selected

was even, begin your walk by turning to the right. If the number was odd,

this first turn is to the left.

9. During the walk, give thought to the meaning of the card you selected.

10. When you finish walking the units prescribed by your calculation of π, pause

and observe your surroundings. Take a photograph of what you see.


On occasion, you might find you cannot walk the necessary number of units

because of an obstruction or because the path in front of you ends. If this

occurs, ricochet your trajectory off that endpoint and continue to count units

until the next determined turn.



A means to define this

as that. Scale creates

proportion to help a

new learner grasp the

iconography of a space

or a place. Scale is

necessary for navigation,

indicating that you

have come this far, this

high. Scale insists what

you see is not what is.

Scale insists there is

more, there is less.

Photos © Effy Grey








































Risk on potato bag #2

by Alessandro Ubirajara



Nothing exists in

isolation to itself. Every

thing has a relationship

to other things and

finds its constitution

through these



In terms of performance,

the act of

physically responding

in real-time to internal

and external impulses

and shaping these

responses so as to

share with an audience.

The public space where

intuition gains a body.


A state of existence

where consciousness

intersects with



the repeated process

of incorporating an

“other” into a self, and

vice versa. This process

implies an expansion of

one’s understandings of


Alessandro and I met at a Berlin sex club where we immediately entered into a

committed boyfriend relationship from the moment we made each other orgasm

until around 8am the next morning—one of the most erotic nights I’ve ever had.

After this 11-hour, polyamorous partnership, we didn’t see each other until riding

on the S-Bahn a year later. We didn’t become regular friends until even months

after that. Now, having grown very close, Alessandro mentioned how a deep,

inner-guidance insisted that he must get to know me that night. I remember our

attraction…not just sexual but some-cosmic-thing else that leaves a distinct impression,

the feeling of which is specifically easy for me to recall. It feels like the

bitter taste of semen and carbonated beer being washed away and swallowed by

a soothing, ravenous tongue. It feels like recognizing.

As my visual arts collaborator, I asked him to contribute an image

that reflects and gives insight into my ongoing research on presence: how can I be

more deeply grounded in my body so as to improvise dance performance at my

fullest capacities—to not overthink so as to allow my intuition to lead the dancing?

The work demands releasing control of rational decision-making procedures so as

to allow whatever is inside of me or wanting to come through me to gain physical

expression into legible form.

I was explaining, “In general, but also specifically for the final

presentation, I want to be dancing so open and full of vitality so that my spirit can

be free and I can embody and satisfy all the passions and desires. You know, like

Billy Elliot who later becomes the beautiful Swan...” With a knowing look he said,

“I have something that is you. I will send.”

There is an inherent violence in expanding beyond borders, in

entering territories defined in relationship to oneself as “other”. This process

entails confrontation, a struggle for dominion. In the context of becoming more

grounded as a dancer to perform at an expanded capacity, this struggle takes place

in the realm of the self and is largely a matter of recognition. Recognition is here

understood by the fact that borders demarcating a sense of oneself as separate

from an “other” are always changing and that, through a continuous tug-of-war,

processes of incorporation and growth occur as one side eventually cannibalizes

the other. The “other” becomes the self, and vice versa. Recognition, therefore, is

a repeated process of incorporation. It means to expand one’s definitions of what

constitutes one’s self to include otherness. The violence inherent in this process

emerges from the precondition of ongoing struggle, and the violence intensifies

and gains sharp teeth when this process is resisted.

I initially resisted Alessandro’s painting—a screaming figure masturbating

as a demonic shadow looks on. I feared to recognize it as the accurate

and insightful reflection of my research that I now consider it to be. Upon first

encounter, my stomach clenched as if trying to stabilize an internal breach, as if

clenching could prevent something personal and valued from cracking. Yes, the


image could relate to the human-to-swan transformation story with which I was

initially identifying, but it was the nightmarish, “other” black swan version that had

manifested like an intruder. I felt momentarily seized in suspension between my

resistance and an impending sense of destabilization. The violence in this uncanny

confrontation felt like the instinct to defend myself or seek refuge. Have I been

understanding myself and my research in an entirely wrong way, foolish and even

immoral? Have I naively opened myself up too much, leaving me susceptible to

a demonic takeover or an eternal hell of serving relentlessly throbbing passions?

At stake was a sense of personal power…am I now lost?

Of all the fears I experience while dance improvising in front

of others, getting lost is the strongest and the most recurring. It happens when

I worry: Am I really present? Will I look ridiculous if I follow that feeling? Am I

being interesting enough? Such thoughts create a mind-body split, and in this gap

between intuitive impulse and physical action, time goes missing. I become confused

and fearful and lose orientation leaving me vulnerable to the rampage of internal

voices. What results is that my spirit, for fear of demise, seems to evacuate my

body while my physical remains proceed to operate along habitually programmed

movement pathways, like a machine on autopilot—unresponsive. Dancing like this

feels from the inside like a waking rigor mortis. A body somehow survives but at

the cost of the quality of life.

Grounding my energy has become my main area of inquiry and

practice to keep re-finding myself in my body and, in the process, to revitalize

it. Breathing deeply, for example, is one of the everyday tools I use to dissolve

stiffness—stiffness as in freezing into pre-defined patterns, as in becoming slave

to the tyrannical penis-passions depicted in the painting, as in not moving freely.

Breathing, a main way of grounding, helps me dissolve internalized obstructions

so as to cultivate my intuition.

Confronting Alessandro’s painting, I breathe deeply to dissolve

my resistance to recognizing how something so true and revealing about me--my

desires, dreams and questions--stands naked, reflected and immaculately transparent

to my perception.

As the spiritual teacher Caroline Myss explains: “Every time you

learn something that is more accurate, more authentic, or true than what you

were just believing, you crack open a little bit. In that moment of cracking open,

you become very vulnerable because you know that the world you were just living

in is gone. It evaporates in front of your eye. Just like that” (Myss 2019).

Billy Elliot. Directed by Stephen Daldry. Universal City, CA: Universal Studios, 2001.

Myss, Caroline. (2019). Understanding Your Own Power – Enchantment 2018. [YouTube Lecture]

Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeY_SmJafSQ&t=203s [Accessed 14 Sep. 2019]

Ubirajara, Alessandro. Risk on potato bag #2. 2015, Berlin.


a conglomerate of different

entities constantly

vying for dominion over

a physical body. A constant

process of seeking

harmony between the

voices in the mind.




Having a background in flamenco dance,

design and visual arts, in my studies at

SODA I started to investigate the limits of

the genre of flamenco, exploring its transformative

potential within contemporary

performance practice; looking specifically

at its dramaturgical structure; interrelated

rhythms; emotional and energetic

states and movement qualities.

Experimenting with a cultural legacy

archived within my body.

True to Joseph Beuys’ motto “Show your

wound,” flamenco for me is an artform

based on a collective agreement to listen

to a single body’s wound. You merge with

the other, you become the other. “Sensing

is sharing” (Arno Böhler 2019). This collective

agreement about sharing and sensing

transforms pain into energy, empowerment

and even joy. The performance

as a collective emotional and energetic

journey, or perhaps even a ritual?

Between the ecstatic and formal

investigation I open this archive to

reveal a series of states, creatures and

concepts of spaces. This collective

journey includes: a digital and

energetic feedback loop, a vulnerable

dialogue of inner and outer bodily

sounds and rhythms in a hybrid space

somewhere between installation and

the black box theatre.


is polyhedral, - morph,

- metric. A process of

shaping, sculpting and


Different styles exist in flamenco, and

each has a specific topic and structure.

Some are dedicated to joy, playfulness or

sorrow. These styles are built on a shared

knowledge of structure, fragments, rules

and signs that form a language of communication

for improvisation. This collective

knowledge has been transmitted

over generations from one body to another.

I am interested in analysing one

such structure and its fragments. With

their interrelated meanings, functions,

rhythms and physicalities, I can create my

own interpretation of the form.

A methodology to isolate a vocabulary.

The first step of my research was to analyse

a flamenco structure by asking: How

is it composed? Why is it constructed like

Transition from something personal to

something collective.

Methods & Strategies.

Body, space and sound.






goes beyond the limits of the

flamenco genre.







Formal investigation.

Embodied knowledge.

Order and disorder.

this? What does it provoke in the body?

I conducted this research from the perspective

of a moving body, as I wanted a

better understanding of the choreographic

decision-making processes behind it.

This investigation made me aware of the

strategies and methods of composition and

made me recognize and articulate procedures

and processes that have so far run

rather unconsciously through my body. I

divided the traditional structure into acts

or fragments and formulated my own titles

and interpretations derived from their primary

functions within the whole.


is the fraternal,

conjoined, disowned,

orphaned twin of chaos.

There exists no order

without chaos.

To open a collective field.

Being in the moment.

The vulnerable body.

Empowered body, calling for change.

Body as a source and holder of sound

and rhythm.

Technical transfer of the involved


Inner meets outer world.

Share your wound.

Meta text.

Receiving, reading and processing.

Sonic, energetic and emotional circuit

as an impulse generator.

Bringing into being.


Storytelling. Juxtaposition.



Opening a door, to step in is about a

body that tunes into a space and an emotional

state. Coming together. The act of

merging, of immersion.


The call serves to draw attention, to raise

the pace and intensity with the intention

to provoke a change, in order to conclude

and begin a new part of the choreography.

All the tension and energy the body

has absorbed erupts and spreads into the

space, saying, “Here I am!”


Fight and Poesis. The body as a polymorphic

space & the space as a polymorphic

field. This fragment is an emotional

and poetic part where the body tunes

into a collective agreement to channel,

discharge and transform energy and express

emotions in the form of a dialogue.

An emotional, energetic and rhythmic

feedback loop. The body has the responsibility

to listen, to hold, to stimulate the

Digital manipulation and multiplier of field and to react to provocation through

energetic outbursts.


is a condition in a

specific time and place.

State is a condition

without awareness of

any specific time and




Provocation. A stimulation where the

body pushes the energy level up to produce

a climax. Leadership that guides the

group toward an explosive moment. It is

the body’s decision as to which curve of

energetic development is produced. The

body is in full control and simultaneously

in an explosive state. The others follow

the body. This increase ends in a collective

final point. A closure. A discharge

followed by silence.

digitally reproduced and

organic sounds.

Insistent and uncanny.

Intimacy and show.

Tenderness and brutality.

Noise. Deep bass tones.

Interruption and Eruption.


I know when it starts

but I don’t know when

it ends. An interregnum.

A past event disappears

with a new one not yet

in sight. It is the space

between events in relation

to time. A space for


Un silencio. Pero no el silencio.

Silence. A collective silence is a moment

like a crossroad, and you don‘t know

where you are going or who is going next.

This moment is full of tension and suspense.

It gives space for a decision-making



Reconnection. A space for a softer, more

permeable body, moving without resistance

or fight. Here, the body can give

attention to detail and subtlety. It is a

sensitive and fragile body.



Vibration and feedback.

Dreamlike state.

Juxtaposition. Distortion.

The unknown.


Ecstasy. Increase. Deceleration. Interruption.

It is an ecstatic part, where the

body is in full control of the situation and

plays with its own power. It is primarily

a rhythmical part, involving a power play

between devotion and restraint. Energy

is released and gained through suspension,

outburst and physical force.


Resolution. A collective closure. This

part often celebrates life in a joyful, sometimes

even grotesque way. It can also be

a return to a state of calm connection,

and togetherness after having shared a

collective journey.

Materials as collaborators.

Metall. Foam. Cloth.

Moving image.


Dionysian creature.

Repetition. Duration.

Physical power. Exhaustion.

Grotesque. Dynamic. Rhythmic clashes.

Feeding and receiving.

Polymetric rhythm.


Body is rhythmically tuned. Rhythm is the main element from which

Heartbeat. everything is built. Emotional and energetic


states emerge from an autopoietic

Trust your tides. feedback loop through rhythm, movement,

music or voice.

Breath in. Silence. Breath out.

Language. Loop.

Power relationships between body,

voice and instrument shift within different

parts of the structure and create

different spaces for decision-making.


Visual, sonoric, emotional, rational


The in-between space of movement and

tonality, the silence, the stillness, are the

predominant factors that grant tension

and organize the structure.

Score & Improvisation.


of the body

with the body

by the body.

Flamenco is based on a dialectic of the

Apollonian and Dionysian principle: a

principle of beauty, joy and fragility on

one side and that of catharsis, rawness,

pain and ugliness on the other. These are

juxtapositioned in rhythm, physicalities

and the structure itself. Always looking

Intimacy and exposure.

Dramatic and formalistic.

for the unexpected. Different states of

tension and release, energy build-up, interruption

and eruption that create and

increase energetic states.

A hybrid between installation and

black box.

Translation into space.

Relation to space.

Spatial transfer.

How can I translate the original dramaturgical

structure or its fragments -

the roles that body, sound and rhythm

play in it - into my own world? What

happens if I change and deconstruct

these fragments? How can I use these

strategies and methods in other fields of

A Ritual. performance art?


Position means the fact

of being able to define

and position something,

to bring it into relational

order. Order stands in

contrast to ambivalence,

ambiguity or something

indefinable. The relation

is the field of tension.

‘Everything in the world has its own

spirit which can be released by setting

it into vibration.’

Oscar Fishinger







a process where two

or more people work

together to achieve a

shared goal.


an object containing inscriptions

of memories.

There was a ritual in my primary school involving diaries that children gave to

each other, where they could do whatever they wanted on one of the pages. It

was a space to consciously focus on the other person and your relationship with

them, and you had to find a way to express that in the form of text, drawing, or

manipulation of the surface of the paper. This creative outburst was also framed

as a collection of similar entries from other people, and it automatically became

a collective gift as everyone ended up with a book filled with pages inscribed with

the memories of all their classmates.

My first tattoo is an intimate duet ritual that I began developing

in 2016 in my gallery, Oficyna. It emerged out of the feeling of strange loneliness

caused by spending short periods of time with a lot of different people. I was

looking for new ways of relating to the people who were close to me. Tattooing

is by its nature a collaborative and creative process. I started inviting my friends

and people who inspire me to consider the surface of my skin as a canvas for their

creative input. In exchange, I teach them how to make a tattoo. The process usually

enables me to create a space for an intimate conversation. With almost one hundred

people I talked about this ritual through the lens of empathy, trust, fear, faith,

spirituality, creativity, culture, language, permanence, death, prayer, meditation,

improvisation, body, touch, dance, poetry, art, drawing, memory, friendship, diary,

collection, archive, symbol, semiotics, representation, reincarnation, pain, torture,

penetration, masochism, sin, dreams, magic, borders, and many others.

The drawings inscribe traces of moments in time and space where

the meetings took place. They often reflect something about the person who made

it, their image of me, or an idea that resonated between us. Most of the people try

to make their first tattoo meaningful. When I look at my tattoos they recall the

specific memories and stories behind them.

If a person that I invite has already done some tattoos in the past,

we try to figure out a way to make the action a new experience for both of us. In

this way I have received tattoos made with a foot, a left hand, blindfolded, using

a drone and a spear.

Drawing is an interesting exercise because it teaches you something

about the thing you draw. You have to look at your subject in a different way. You

can draw what you see if you are observing light, shapes, and colors. You can draw

from your emotions if you focus on how you feel and try to put it on paper. You

can draw from your memories - your home, your grandma, your favorite cartoon.

You can draw from your imagination if you close your eyes, silence your mind

and let the images appear.

From some of the participants in My First Tattoo I have collected

choreography, dance moves and positions that I’m trying to embody which are now the

material for my movement research. In an attempt to stage this ritual as a Solo/Dance/

Authorship graduation performance I will try to perform this eclectic dance.


List of collaborators:

Adrian Kolarczyk

Adrianna Orłowska

Akemi Nagao

Aleksander Błażkiewicz

Aleksandra Kołodziej

Amin Lahrichi

Ana Lessing Menjibar

Anastazja Pataridze

Andrew Champlin

Andrzej Pakuła

Anni Taskua

Bartosz Zaskórski

Bernardo Chatillon

Borys Wrzeszcz

Christoph Thun

Claire Scarlet

Claudia Grande

Claudius Hausl

Dawid Misiorny

Diego Agullo

Egon Fietke

Eloy Arribas

Evgenia Chetvertkova

Ewelina Cichocka

Floris de Groot

Frédéric Gies

Freya Edmondes

Garazi Peio

George Upton

Gosia Bartosik

Iman Deeper

Irmina Rusicka

Izabella Gustowska

Jakub Bolewski

Jakub Gliński

Jakub Jasiukiewicz

Jan Piechota

Jason Corff

Jean Steeg

Jędrzej Suchy

Jianan Qu

Joanna Filipiak

John Klein

Judith Förster

Karol Komorowski

Katarzyna Borelowska

Kelly Dochy

Kike Garcia

Kiril Kogan

Lidia Gąszewska

Lucas Jezak

Łukasz Richter

Maciej Klim

Maciej Rudzin

Maciej Thiem

Marek Rachwalik

Mariana Vieira

Mario Gomez

Marko Markvic

Mateusz Urban

Michał Knychaus

Michiyasu Furutani

Mikołaj Szymkowiak

Ni’Ja Whitson

Nicola van Straaten


Oteth Slayer

Partyk Wejnert

Paulina Bill Jaksim

Paweł Mikołajczyk

Piotr Kurka

Raman Tratsiuk

Rhyannon Styles

Robert Łuksza

Sara Abed

Sonia Dubois,

Stachu Szumski

Thomas Scheele

Ula Lucińska

Ula Szkudlarek

Wojtek Didkowski

Żaneta Masiak

Zuza Koszuta


a form of structuring an

activity by specifying

the rules, roles, available

objects, and space.


organizing a platform

with the possibility of

inviting others.


readiness to rely on

other people.














an enclosed system

that has its own logic

and follows a set of

rules, impossible to

access from outside

without understanding

the parameters,

can also be used as a

strategy to generate

material or as a tool for





material that is treated

through a process

of distancing (e.g.

using an algorithm),

or claiming found

text as a biographical

material, can also apply

to self-dialogue with an

alter ego.

During SODA I have moved through identity politics, crashed into questions of

agency, thought of self as material for performance by reflecting on psychological

theories and finally arrived to consider different articulations of self in the body.

Simultaneously, I find myself moving about in the world in the age of surveillance

capitalism and heightened self performance with an uncanny feeling of what it

means to be a human. How do different technologies infiltrate my body? What

kind of knowledge am I able to produce within this discourse by looking for information

in the body?

We long to both cling to and escape our bodies, we want to use technologies while

we rail against its misuse, but bodies must be the starting point for any discussion

of technology. They shape-shift and dance into other forms with technologies, but

remain our refer to the world. For now. (Parker-Starbuck 2014: 93)

I grew interested in articulations, echoes of characters or alter

egos, inscribed in my body. I wanted to know how I could access them on stage.

My body contains potential for numerous second selves that can be invoked and

activated through different means and technologies. How do these articulations

(mediated, synthetic, theatrical, fictional) of the self or the body form, fall apart

and merge with each other? How can moving between them create an experience

or notion of authenticity or artificiality?

I wanted to gain insight into the mechanics of authenticity and

artificiality in relation to representations of the self. For me, the question of second

selves does not stop on stage. As new technologies provide spaces to fabricate new

formulations of self, what then is considered artificial and what is authentic? I

wanted to approach this question with a hypothesis: What if something artificial

could produce authenticity and vice versa?

I first started working with generating text through an algorithm

using old personal written conversations as a source material in order to create

fictional autobiographical material. Something that sounded and looked familiar


Cut yourself an analog filter today!



temperatures of

recognition relating to

sense-making and nonsense,

presence and

absence, authenticity

and artificiality, familiar

and alien, a performative

rendition loosely

referring to the concept

of uncanny valley.


qualities and modes

of presence in the

body evoking different

articulations of the self

by using performative

technologies, connects

to questions and experiences

of autonomy

and agency, whose

body is it?


ut that was not, exactly. By receiving this data, I saw patterns, a network or a

library of my subconscious, just differently organized. The multitude of versions

had different temperatures depending on how well they managed to mimic the

original source. This brought me to questions of sense-making, as in, where and

when does sense-making happen? How do we move from nonsense to something

that we recognize?

“Recognition” seems to me to be a much deeper element of theatrical performance

than that [the structural turning point of drama]: even in the most non-narrative,

post-dramatic performance, the communication between audience and performer

relies on the mutual recognition of readable human action. (Dorsen, n.d.)

Secondly, how does sense-making manifest in the modes or quality

of presence in the body? I wanted to bring a living body to the equation. I have built

internal strategies that keep me busy and connect me with my body. Blinking was

one way to hijack an involuntary action. Blinking synchronizes with the breath

and activates the parasympathetic nervous system. However, the question for me

is: What kind of presence does it produce on stage? How can a seemingly easy

task fade out the persona and make space for the body itself? Are there different

temperatures for presence?

Quite early in the process, I noticed the materials were neither

obstacles to authenticity on stage nor revelators of it. All of the materials had a

potential to move anywhere on the scale between familiar and alien. I have started

to work with a dramaturgical principle to move on this scale: In and out of qualities

that might produce notions and experiences of authenticity or artificiality. Whether

it is in the level of the material itself or in the delivery of it, I am interested in the

ambiguous in-between, liminal space of those experiences where we do not yet

quite recognize where we are being taken.

Maybe we could question whether the juxtaposition between

authenticity and artificiality is even useful. Maybe it is not a catastrophe if we

discover machine-like qualities and even the pure fiction about ourselves and

accept that we are all somewhat an artificial mix. What if it has something to do

with freedom that we become more aware of our own algorithms, our behavioral

patterns? Or if we know what systems are at play in ourselves? To become aware

of our situatedness and overcome it?

In search of the authentic self, I would like to quote Arno Böhler

who quoted Judith Butler and Jacques Derrida by saying that “self is a quotation”

(Böhler, 2019). I am becoming me through the encounters I have. This also includes

the thought that the other, instead of being outside of the self, is incorporated in

the self. In itself, it is a process of unfolding and in-folding.

The more dreadfully disquieting thing is not the other or an alien; it is, rather,

yourself in oldest familiarity with the other, for example, it could be the Double

in which you recognize yourself outside of yourself. (Ronell, 1989: 69)


moving between two

ends of a dichotomy in

order to create ambiguity,

focusing on the

in-between space as

a potentiality, working

with blending qualities

together in order to

research their relation.


Etcetera, (n.d.). Algorithm,

composition and

metaphor (interview with

Annie Dorsen). Retrieved

September 13, 2019

from https://e-tcetera.



Jennifer (2014). Cyborg

Theatre - Corporeal/

Technological Intersections

in Multimedia Performance,

UK: Palgrave


Ronell, Avital (1989). The

Telephone Book: Technology,


Electric Speech. Lincoln:

University of Nebraska


Illustrations © Cedric Flazinski







give permission.

Embrace silence



undulate, create states.

Drop in, fall out, shake it all about.




Sounds like

I’m out of tune, or is that time? Please don’t turn it up, it Hz this frequency of



hanging on a single string, a wire, a thread,

I’m improvising again,

it fills me with


Dive towards what you don’t know,

ride the acoustic swell.


composition emerges that is neither here or there, a fragment of an experience

that we all just shared. I’m looping the loop - number 49, trying to remember

my last line.


arrive by listening to my internal drive.

A beat

A breath

A pirouette.

Linger with one finger pressed against a rosewood neck.

Traverse spatial boundaries,

move up a fret.

Sound is my stage,

my intention is set.

I’m sure I will lose it. I can’t find the step.


don’t fight it,

penetrate the cracks.

Scratch below the surface,

feed the feedback.



The presence of silence

within a performance is

a recurring entry point,

moving the physical

body towards its next



A multi-dimensional

experience which is an

immersive, transitional


locating performer and

spectator beyond the

parameters of spatial




A medium of performance

that is dependent

on accessing an

internal landscape to

find ways of achieving

readiness, where both

body and mind work

collaboratively to instigate

the next moves.


is invisible to the naked

eye. It surrounds all

living beings and feeds

energy into the soul

from which all human

beings unconsciously




model of guitar that was produced in Japan in the late 1960s. Its distinctive features include a narrow neck, short scale and light body, making it ideal for the beginner’s market. In the UK it retailed for £40 and was considered a cheap alternative to other guitar manufactures like Fender and Gibson. I bought mine

aThe Satellite 65/T is

ficult to create a quality sound without running it through several effects (FX) pedals. But, based solely on its pristine condition and vintage appeal, I was willing to take the risk. I fi ind it interesting then, that in 2019, with risk being a key element in my practice, that the Satellite 65/T is at the centre of my research, as a companion and a collaborator.

om the Cash Converters in Hackney, East London in 2014. I can’t remember exactly how much I paid for it, but I do remember haggling. I suspect it was under £50. If truth be told, at the time this was an unnecessary purchase, especially since a quick internet search informed me that these guitars were unreliable live, and that it was di

Photos © Evgenia Chetvertkova





Berlin, September 2019

Kuba Borkowicz,

Bernardo Chatillon,

Jason Corff,

Jorge De Hoyos,

Ana Lessing Menjibar,

Minna Partanen

and Rhyannon Styles

with Sandra Noeth

Sandra Noeth (SN) We are sitting together, preparing this publication,

and actually writing, framing and researching have been a continuous

element throughout the studies. I am curious to know where they sit within your

artistic practices?

Ana Lessing Menjibar (ALM) When starting to think about the

publication, I came to realize the different states involved in writing: it is a kind of

transcription of what is happening in the body into words, that then again influences

what happens performatively later. Somehow this publication is a performance

from the past, the presence and the future. I really like how writing actually became

a part of a process of awareness, a dialogue between thought and body.

Bernardo Chatillon (BC) When reflecting on this, there is a difference

between tools that we use for certain things, like a screwdriver or a hammer.

Tools that execute a precise and practical function, and tools in the context of

artistic work that have a completely different meaning. For example, my question

is, how can I be writing with the same bodily presence that I am applying when

I am researching in the studio or when I am improvising? How can I capture the

velocity of my associations? One way is to think and speak at the same time, and

like now, using my arms, making gestures. I think this brings thoughts to the fore

that are maybe hidden, it’s a somatic way of producing writing.

Rhyannon Styles (RS) This makes me think about the tools I use. I

didn’t have a physical practice for a very long time, and recently this shifted due to

the frame of SODA. It’s an interesting exercise to write about a specific idea, several

times on different occasions. I have noticed that the state that I am in, in terms of

how I feel or what I just experienced, and also my position in space, and the kind

of tools that I am using for writing also influence the text. You can see what is going

on between these instances when you address the same idea in variations.

Jason Corff (JC) I think writing is almost a centring way to put my

ideas into a different mode. When ideas are generated through movement, this

prompts me to identify in a specific way what it is that I am doing. However, the

writing can exist in its own space, and I can see where connections continue, even

if I didn’t sense them in the beginning, so the writing is a kind of evidence.


Minna Partanen (MP) In general, we talk a lot about reframing in

the program, and writing is a very powerful tool for this. I think about how many

times I wrote about the same thing over these two years, it’s quite a few... When I

read my past texts, I am actually saying the same but there are these nuances that

are all the time becoming more and more detailed and I am understanding why

am I choosing this word over that word. I like that I become more specific and

more careful every time I try. I guess that’s how all of the artistic research should

be, but with the words, the result stays.

SN Writing seems to be many things: a way of looking back but also

opening up in a very physical, almost performative sense.

MP But also, I found it a relief that it is a part of the knowledge production,

that I can call part of my artistic research. To realise that the writing is an

extension of my body - I feel like it gives liberty. I can treat things by different methods.

ALM When you, Sandra, introduced writing as a physical act, it

changed my relation to writing a lot. This idea to open my senses in the moment

much more and somehow stop to produce this continuous censoring. To make

writing itself more like a sensory experience. But writing is also a practice. If

you go to the studio and you move, you are not going to use all the movement in

your performance, but you create a vocabulary. So, writing is a physical exercise

and you are not going to use every single word, but in the moment, you generate

material, it becomes dense, exact.

JDH Maybe what’s been nicest when there’s been deadlines of

either the essays or text for publicity, because then all the writing or all the thinking

has to somehow get formed into a digestible format. I appreciate that there’s a

specific form, a specific way to give a quick hello to people out in the world.

RS There’s so much also about finding your voice. I suppose, because

I’ve got previous experience being a writer, I know what my voice is when

I’m writing a magazine article for example. The time at SODA has also been about

finding a different voice to articulate my practice. That’s a very new thing to be able

to reflect, analyse and talk about. It’s like a muscle you have to keep training.

Kuba Borkowicz (KB) You’re creating a body.

SN You are all bringing different disciplines and backgrounds into

the program: sound, visual arts, curating, dancing, choreography but also meditation,

tattooing, healing, flamenco, geography, maths... I could go on. What are the specific

challenges that this might create in your own work?

Jorge De Hoyos (JDH) I studied cultural anthropology and I was

always very interested in referencing: where did a thought or an influence come

from, who said what? And this is an endless work of contextualising. At the same

time, being a freelance performer, dancer and choreographer, there are so many





influences that make up the hybrid of my practice. It’s really an art of framing,

of what I highlight: my meditation practice? My yoga practice? It’s a challenge to

be specific.

MP I immediately start to see it more through collaboration, that’s

where clashes most easily show. If I think about working processes, maybe you

are collaborating with someone who works with other materials that simply take

time to develop. Whereas when I look for information and make decisions in

my body, they can react to changes quite rapidly. Or if it comes to programming

digital interfaces, a lot of hours of work can go into something and you might

need to know in advance certain parameters and not only become aware of them

during the process. I think that’s where the transdisciplinary work sometimes

gets complicated.

JC In addition to that, it’s also this idea of distancing that comes

in if you have different disciplines that influence the work. For instance, some of

the things I focus on seem very unrelated to each other. For example, if you’re

looking at the intersection of cartography and choreography and at the same

time thinking about predictive technologies like calculus and four-dimensional

geometry, the challenge that I continue to navigate through is looking at multiple

approaches to space, to place or time, even if they aren’t initially related to each

other. It’s about finding the distance between them so that suddenly something

comes into clarity. Then of course the challenge is, is it just clear to me, or how

to find that proper amount of exposure to also make it clear for someone looking

from a different perspective. How do you articulate that distancing that becomes

more pronounced in collaboration, to somebody who is working in a different

discipline altogether?

ALM This brings a tension. Having had a background for a long

time in flamenco, there is a negotiation between an embodied, kind of unconscious

knowledge, and the wish to decompose this embodied knowledge, to understand

what it is, to become aware of the body and the movement and of my artistic

language. This tension is beautiful and at the same time it can feel like a conflict

for myself.

SN Is this tension also about the claims that come with different

practices, claims related to a specific knowledge?

KB Yes, definitely. This experience of clashing my practice in the

context of academic research was concentrated on the question of how to make

my practice accessible for other people and actually interesting to watch or to

even engage with it. Working with meditation or tattooing as a performance made

me look at these activities from many different perspectives. To decompose and

find the specific things that makes this interesting for me and to somehow try to

share them.


RS It’s about making the personal public. Because not all of us

makers and artists choose to use our personal identity or personal interest in our

work. But for me, that’s always been something I’ve wanted to do. Take my guitar

practice for example, it has never really had a platform in the public before, so

it’s really interesting for me to explore that, to be able to see its potential as a kind

of artistic future for myself.

MP In the beginning of the course, I was really busy with the question

of what does the facilitator-me and the artist-me have to do with each other.

I feel as soon as I let go of these definitions, the embodied knowledge inscribed in

me gets to come out. As long as I don’t problematize it too much in my head, they

actually work quite well together.

SN In the SODA program, there is this insistence on your own artistic

practices but there is also a collective, collaborative environment. I am interested in

how you perceive this relation.

JDH My research is dance improvisation where I’m trying to allow

myself to move with the feeling or the intuition first, rather than having prethoughts

or a decision made already. I’m trying to put the analyser brain way in

the back. This is very much sort of me dancing and my collaborators are there

to support me. It’s also very collective though, because I’m trying to get my ego

mind out of the way, to allow the expression to just come through and consenting

to serve myself but also everybody else, so it’s an interesting shared space.

BC This relates to the ideas of solo, dance and authorship; ideas

that are all the time shifting. The one that strikes me most in the title of the program

is ‘authorship.’ However, it changes completely with the word ‘dance’ that comes

in between ‘solo’ and ‘authorship’. This movement in between these two words is

opening and shaping things in an invisible way: it makes it impossible to think of

dance as something individual.

ALM Solo, for me, is also something which doesn’t necessarily

exist. What I’m most interested in, is the communication, my movement and what

I want to share, shaping, moulding the space between the audience and me.

KB From my experience I would like to challenge the idea of solo,

because during the process of going through the program, there is a lot of attention

put on being open and sharing and trying out and having feedback. Indeed, it is a

very collaborative process of refining your stuff, going back to it, but also bouncing

it off different people and our group internally.

RS And even last semester you were collaborating with plants…

KB Yes, that was an experiment of reaching out to non-human

beings. My question was if these are actually collaborators as well, if solo can be

translated to plants, to materials, to objects, to space.

RS I had that exact experience in the studio the other day with my





mentor and my new sound collaborator, who has made a sound board for me. It’s a

whole new piece of technology to get my head around, but at the same time that piece

of technology is my new collaborator. It has its own methodology that I can’t control.

JC Also, from experiencing the program, there is this underlying

idea of a body in space, but that body is never alone. And I think that’s been a

valuable lesson along the way that there are many things that start to influence

what a body can do: whether it be collaborators, mentors, opinions that we refine

or find reflected in things that we read, or just casual conversations.

SN You also decided to collaborate outside of the program as the

Mineralwasser collective that you founded. Could you talk more about it?

RS The first thing we did as Mineralwasser was the sangria bar

that we set up during the presentations of the 2nd year students, right?

JDH I think there has been an interest and a willingness from all

of us to somehow work together, to not be in isolation, to build a support network.

Hosting a bar was a good way because we could have fun together, get to know

each other, not just artistically, but also administratively and logistically and performatively,

in an easy setting. The collective is maybe also a response to the big

word solo and I was excited to grow deeper this time, really wanting to invest in a

group especially having been a freelancer, where the longest I might be with any

group of people might be three months or the time of a project.

BC What is nice is that there is a balance with my own authorship,

my own research. I have room to be independent, to call my own shots, to direct

my space. But, I’m not alone, and we can give each other feedback from a very

different perspective. That’s quite a rich environment.

KB I believe it really arrived from an urge for a deeper connection.

I think we all sort of realised that it’s a group of interesting people who share some

common interests, all using the body as an artistic material. I think we say that we

could learn from each other.

MP I’ve been thinking about what you, Bernardo, said in one of

our last meetings, when you talked about the collective being as strategy, a strategy

for us to stay together, to invest in each other, to commit.

BC Yes, to fight this rivalry between us that could have been there.

JC And, I think it’s an exploration of performativity, but also an

exploration of connectivity. And going deeper into that, really understanding what

the collective might mean for a group of people, that might, on the surface, not

easily identify commonalities, but rather find them through experience and time.

And then articulate them in whatever way they choose.


SN In many of your writings and statements the word responsibility

occurs. When we speak about working in a group and individually, how does this

idea find articulation?

JDH I’m thinking about an intensive with Arno Böhler and a

working definition of the capacity to be in the body, but at the same time always

be outside of it. Because we’re always connected, and open to the world, to the

environment. In response, entangled with each other. So, responsiveness, being

able to respond, being able to be in the world.

BC Collectivity already brings a lot of invisible responsibilities:

not only the responsibility of being a father or a mother or a teacher in relation to

my work, but also the responsibility to think about deadlines, an audience, about

how they read and can enter my work, about why am I doing this. So, I believe my

responsibility is connected with this deep emotional level of sharing something

and with working in the direction of something that is calling me. Calling into place

a collective already creates a sense of responsibility, as well. We are all going to

care about each other.

KB Yes, definitely. In my experience responsibility is totally different

when it comes to solo or collective work. In my solo practice, I am mostly focused

on experimenting and trying out new things. If in the end it doesn’t really work,

it’s fine, I learn something from it. But with the collective I feel the responsibility

differently. If we try to work together and something goes wrong, then actually

our relations and the integrity of the group are in danger.

ALM I have a very concrete example from flamenco for this experience.

In flamenco, if I’m not responsible for the whole team, it doesn’t work. But

also, if I don’t take the moment for my solo inside the collective, there is no flamenco.

So that reminds me of what you, Sandra, were talking about, using dramaturgy as

a mobile, holding different elements and ideas together. It’s the same, each part of

our collective is a part of the whole dramaturgy, if one changes, the whole system

needs to change. Somehow these two words – responsibility and ‘dis-responsibility’

- are deeply connected, and what is important is the space between them.

JC I think this creative term, ‘dis-responsibility’ got developed

when it came to decision making in our work. Focusing, understanding and contextualizing

what our decisions are. But also to create an awareness of what we

are choosing against, when we are choosing to not contextualise, and be able to

identify those moments.

MP Of course the word responsibility can come with heaviness,

as well, with having to carry out a project, and be the one that stands behind it.

But at the same time, I try to use it as a strategy, to think what my responsibility

is to the work. To think that the work is bigger than me, and actually that my task

is to show up and do it.




KUBA BORKOWICZ is a performer, visual artist and curator working between Berlin and Poznan. In 2017,

he graduated from the University of Fine Arts in Poznan (MA Visual Communication). Borkowicz’s research

framework investigates the affinity between play and ritual through compositional strategies utilized by religion

to design a set of practices to connect, worship, and learn from plants. Across different media such as

performance, painting, installations, video, photography and tattoos, his artistic practice focuses on meditative

qualities of the creative process and their potential to create a shared experience. As a curator, Borkowicz

develops platforms for collaboration between human and non-human beings. In 2014 he established the 9/10

Gallery in Poznan with a program focusing on relational pairings of artists.

BERNARDO CHATILLON was born in Rebelva, Portugal under Aquarius. He trained at Centro Em Movimento

(CEM) and completed a degree in theatre at the Higher School of Theatre and Cinema (ESTC) in Lisbon. From

2012-15, he was a company member of the National Theater D. Maria II in Lisbon. Based in Berlin since 2016,

Chatillon has collaborated as a performing artist on multiple projects with Stephanie Maher at Ponderosa

Movement & Discovery. In his own work, Chatillon uses elements of real-time composition to question creative

agency as he navigates the link between belief systems and free association.

JASON CORFF relocated to Berlin from New York City where he has been a dancer with a+s works as well

as a frequent collaborator with videographer Effy Grey and multimedia design house Paradox Vested Relics.

His solo practice is focused on the pairing of cartographic principles with choreography to recontextualize

the body in space. Trained in dance at Oberlin College, Corff was a company member of 277 Dance Project

and worked with Laboratory Theater, theARTcorps, Gushue Moving Arts, and Craig Hoke Zarah. He has performed

at various locations in New York City including Triskelion Arts, Dixon Place, The Performing Garage,

and Bryant Park. One of his dance works for film premiered at Mills Gallery at the Boston Center for the Arts

in Massachusetts, and several others can be found online.

JORGE DE HOYOS is a U.S. American dancer and choreographer based in Berlin since 2012. He studied Cultural

Anthropology and Theater Arts at the University of California at Santa Cruz. Collectivity and community

have been a major aspect of his artistic and spiritual development throughout his trajectory: organizing DIY

public art actions, hosting sexual-spiritual and performance events in homes and non-institutional spaces,

and being a core member of performance projects like Turbulence (a dance about the economy) with Keith

Hennessy and Tanzkongress 2019. As a dancer/performer he has regularly collaborated with Meg Stuart/

Damaged Goods and Sara Shelton Mann, among others. He has presented his own work in San Francisco and

Berlin, and published articles and interviews with In Dance by Dancers’ Group (2008-2014), Dance Theatre

Journal (2011) and Contemporary HUM (2018). www.jorgedehoyos.com

ANA LESSING MENJIBAR is a German-Spanish visual artist, performer and dancer born and based in

Berlin. Her work is an investigation and conceptual interpretation of contemporary flamenco, stretching the

genre and movement vocabulary to locate transformative potential within the context of performance. The

body is also addressed as a unique source of sound and rhythm, extending the ability of sound to act as a

performer in space. Lessing Menjibar’s interdisciplinary practice explores notions of the performative though

media such as photography, video, and installation. She has performed or exhibited in Berlin at Sophiensaele,

Komische Oper Berlin, tanzhaus nrw, NGORONGORO, NGBK, and the Kammermusiksaal der Berliner Philharmonie.

She also has appeared at Villa Romana (Italy), Bienal - Miradas de Mujeres (Spain), and 29. Festival

Les Instants Vidéo (France and Argentina). Lessing Menjibar received her Diplom in Visual Communication at

Universität der Künste Berlin, and also works as an art director and publisher in the field of culture and arts.


MINNA PARTANEN is a performer, director, and drama educator hailing from Finland and holds a BA in

Performing Arts from Helsinki Metropolia. She has a background in devised work, socially engaged art, and

applied theatre in non-traditional performance spaces and has worked as an applied theatre facilitator in

contexts such as social work, innovation and organizational development. She was part of a research group


for arts-based initiatives in development processes at Lappeenranta-Lahti University of Technology LUT.

Currently, Partanen works as a Drama Educator at English Theatre Berlin | International Performing Arts

Center leading the theatre’s partnership with Theater und Schule (TUSCH). She has taught Drama in English

extensively in schools around Berlin and co-founded International People’s Theatre Berlin, an applied theatre

project. Partanen premiered her solo work Next Time in Berlin in 2015 at Expat Expo festival in collaboration

with Joseph Wegmann.

RHYANNON STYLES is a British-born performer, writer and public speaker. In her solo work, Styles uses

resonance and timbre through spatial explorations to create sonic compositions and improvised choreography.

She has performed at various locations in London including Barbican Centre, Tate, V&A Museum and Soho

Theatre. Styles has presented work at both the Edinburgh and Adelaide Fringe Festivals in addition to the

Guggenheim Museum in New York City. In June 2017, Styles released her memoir The New Girl - A Trans Girl Tells

It like It Is through Headline Publishing. As a journalist she regularly contributes to UK publications, and was a

columnist for ELLE magazine from 2015-2017. Her next book Help! I’m Addicted - A Trans Girl’s Self-Discovery

& Recovery will be published in 2021. As a public speaker, Styles uses her media profile to raise awareness for

transgender issues across a variety of platforms. In 2016 she appeared in The Body Shop’s Stand Up Stand

Out campaign, and will feature in the upcoming campaign Work It for Sainsbury’s TU clothing brand. www.



Publisher: HZT Hochschulübergreifendes Zentrum Tanz Berlin (HZT), Uferstraße 23, 13357 Berlin / Concept

and Authors: Kuba Borkowicz, Bernardo Chatillon, Jason Corff, Jorge De Hoyos, Ana Lessing Menjibar, Minna

Partanen, Rhyannon Styles and Sandra Noeth / Texts and pictures: all rights with the authors if not otherwise

mentioned / Graphic Design: milchhof.net / Interview transcription: Zoe Martin / Printing Company: Laserline

©HZT Berlin 2019 / Hochschulübergreifendes Zentrum Tanz Berlin / www.hzt-berlin.de / office@hzt-berlin.de

MA SODA Staff: Prof. Rhys Martin, Prof. Dr. Sandra Noeth, Sophia New

Web links are provided for informational purposes only.

HZT bears no responsibility for the accuracy, legality or content of external sites or for that of subsequent links.

The HZT Berlin is the joint responsibility of the Berlin University of the Arts (UdK) and the Hochschule für Schauspielkunst

Ernst Busch (HfS) in cooperation with TanzRaumBerlin, a network of the professional dance scene.























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