dramaturging is a term I use to describe the state of being a dramaturg and the process of creating something - whether in material or immaterial terms - in that role 

Sometimes miraculous things happen in life. Coincidences, one could call them. Or maybe little winks—gentle reminders of the wonders that keep unfolding, generously, unexpectedly, right before us...

Last June I had the honor of witnessing Carolina Bianchi’s The Brotherhood at the Holland Festival. A performance so awe-full it shook me to my core. It left me speechless, emptied of words, incapable of stringing even a sentence together. I couldn’t process it. I could only barely bear witness. To hold space—for Carolina, for her practice that dares to transform pain and trauma into an unstoppable force, into reclamation, and resignification. It was, as it happens, the last performance I saw that season.

When I booked my ticket for Florentina Holzinger’s A Year Without Summer at De Singel back in May, I had no idea it would so magically, so perfectly, pick up the thread from Carolina—opening this theater season in continuation of the state I was left in after The Brotherhood. A state of incompetence, of inability, of rapture—my sharp and sensitive wit and language suspended. A lingering question mark about whether texts and critiques should even have a place. A reckoning with my own role in the performing arts world. A relentless appreciation for those who make art. And a quiet hesitation toward those who theorize it, including myself.

I don’t know where this inner struggle will lead me. But I remain humble, and curious to find out. Because there is no end—only continuity. In seasons, in nature, in who we are, and who we are still becoming.