Response to MOS by Ioanna Paraskevopoulou
Dear you,
What is the sound of a dance festival?
What are its bodies, literally and metaphorically and imaginatively?
What is their sound?
I can hear Rodia’s voice in my head.
The sound of the printer, which moves as it prints, annoying everyone in the room but eventually acting as a metronome for our writing.
The sound of steps.
Steps getting closer, or steps from far away. Stepping like tapping, loudly; Or stepping silently into a space, a bit late perhaps, trying to be unseen in your lateness.
The sound of voices, the rhythm of their talking, their tone.
The stapler we use for our texts is a hard body. To make it work, you have to stand up and put all your weight to your hand and push carefully. Then you hear the sound of it and you feel its impact in your palm. Done. Next. Done. Next. Done. Next. Done. Next. Repetition. What does it do to our bodies watching?
The sound of lights in a stage. This micro-sound or feeling when the lights change.
Beeeeeep. Stay attuned.
Let’s go again.
What is the sound of curation? The sound of thoughts in our head? Their impact in our bodies. I can hear the fingers on keyboards, bags moving. Paper shuffling. This is our performance. In a room. The air from the air-condition sounds like a plane from far away. It’s the sound of our thoughts traveling.
What is the body of a performance?
In the end, they stand headless- their heads hidden behind a screen hanging from the ceiling. They are holding a microphone to each other’s hearts and we can hear their heartbeats.
Their hearts though beat everywhere:
in stones, coconuts, gloves, wings, soil, water
but mostly in my own body as I dive into the performance and out of the theatre.
Which a day later makes me wonder again: what is the sound of our festival and what makes its bodies?
Love,
Betina
Dear Festival and Friends 
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