_Venice international Performance Art Week_UNDER SCARS

Palazzo Mora, Venice, IT



Down to the ground. Each movement a careful exploration of the relations between my insides and my fears.


internal processes my own body is arranging: tissues, blood, breath – too shallow to make a yawn,

air trapped under my rib cage points and pierces at each inhale.


I battle between my faith and luck of trust in my own cells.

Faith in life as thugs may be exactly how they may, and lack of confidence in my own self, my own body, my own capacity to restore. Surrender and control, at once, make me.


I clench my teeth, at night.

Hold my breath to a sibyl sound during daytime. Hear the feedback of my muscle tone and the tone of my voice, fried and resonant. Pulling towards the core as a spring would before release.


Where is the release? Where the relief?


As each day brings a small victory, an easier sip of air, a new position in which to sleep, I seem to forget to sigh in gratitude. Unsatisfied of my performance, I demand more of my body. Why won’t you follow, my rapid thoughts?


Why won’t you thoughts, forgive my slow body? Follow my slow body, listen in marvel at its clear silent scream.


Why won’t my body, be free from my needs? For understanding, for mastering, for possessing.


Every day the wounds get lighter. Tighter. Smaller to the touch. A stitch still pokes out of my skin, on a corner of my navel, stinging me from time to time as a reminder that I am breakable.


This body could have killed me. Killed itself as a machine programmed to expire. It did not, it put itself at work to save me, which I respect. A super-body, super-scared, conserving the pains of my lifetime and beyond, seeking for comprehension, for an origin, a cause.


A cause in Karelia. A cause in a language I don’t speak. A cause in a father I don’t have. A freedom I long for and fight for, against the windmill.



Photo credits: Fenia Kotsopoulou, Lorenza Cini