Spring Forward umea2014

Delivering the unsaid

Springback to make the best jump. Springback to sit in the first row, and be ready to get not on but into the stage. Take a breath, springback and dive in even in a state of apnea and against the ticking of time. 

Springback during Spring Forward was moving counterclockwise – a challenging experience, a spinning programme that turned me into a whirling massage for my own brain. I felt like a squeezed citrus afterwards but know that my bloodfruit hasn’t been wasted.

I saw people sweating onstage and sometimes someone crying in the audience. Beads of water all around. I guess this effort was my kind of fuel. Words distilled from grey matter, lactic acid from my mind, iron drops… This was my personal version of the gift and the giving that lays down performing arts on both sides. 

To create is to burn; making an effort bigger than required to get a result, wasting energy doing the opposite of what one does in ordinary life, but from all this burning the light comes…the light that makes art shine and bodies onstage beautiful. A delivery by pushing, a birth by whispering. The intense, tight schedule and nearly impossible deadlines were necessary to achieve that generous level of giving, an intellectual marathon owed to artists and audience alike.


It was a gift for myself as well, a unique opportunity  to fail while being monitored and mentored by a silver pen that played with and cleaned up my thoughts; pure exercises near to miracles accompanied by principles in the form of advice. Writing in English for one for whom Italian is the mother-tongue was a changing-dress session. Donald [Hutera] acted as a goldsmith who warms precious metals by manipulating them to softness; so I felt my grammar and mind structure turning into magma to be reshaped. Issuing forth from the double language became a plus, a double layer, a stock where we could keep the unsaid.

A lot was actually kept unsaid because of the format we’d been given: short and concise, requiring us to be able to distill spirits in drops. We were artisans of writing who flashed in glimpses, using technology to spread our voices like ghosts haunting places we visited and performances we attended. Tweets are arrows, like haiku is to poetry, but these short forms are often shortcuts for silliness. And yet this project can be a way to fight such a superficial use of brevity. I felt happy with the conditions, and propose to make this kind of experiment long-lasting by spreading it around to different festivals of the network as a huge platform involving more groups and diverse targets but merging them altogether.


What I probably missed was that merging and a sharing of the spinning that was inside my body and brain, and within my little group. I would’ve loved more open discussions, more meetings with all the groups and maybe some live chat – moments with audiences who weren’t in Umea.

Chiara Organtini    

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