Theatre

The Body of a Woman as a Battlefield

Concept – A long forgotten historical myth says that all war start for women, or a woman to be more specific. But what happens when desires distort into abuse, and passion is used in all the wrong ways? What happens when military tactics treat the human body as nothing more than an object? How many women should be sacrificed so to stop a perpetual cycle with roots at the origins of humanity? Visniec’s words present us the contemporaneity of ancestral burdens. Can we transcend the historical perception of a woman’s body into a parabolic ode worshipping the life-giving beings known as women? This experimental performance gazes us into the shattered memories, and pieces of existence, of a woman that has gone to hell and back. Acceptance, self-love, forgiveness are just a few of the themes that we want to contemplate together. We cannot change history, but we can change what is to come. Our performance dares to ask uncomfortable questions and mirrors what still happens in contemporary society in regards to women.
Themes – abuse, rape, war, womanhood, freedom of speech, hate, ethnical cleansing, gender, equality, gref
Showing – The performance shows what happens when women are abused and what happens to them physically, and mentally. Every scene is a different tableau that reflects upon different forms of hate/abuse (including self-hate, revenge, etc.). It shows that we globally have to make bigger efforts towards fighting for equality, and that history has a tendency to repeat itself. It also shows that if we do not start taking immediate actions and better educate future generations, history might not change that much. We also show a unity between abuse victims and how they can stand for each other and how they should not be afraid to speak out. Unfortunately the attitude towards women has not changed towards the better. Before the pandemic 1 in 3 women suffered of domestic abuse, those numbers have gone up since the Covid outbreak (and at this time they are impossible to calculate precisely). Our performance raises a wakeup call towards how women are seen and treated in contemporaneity.
Director – Mike Savuica
Performers – Andra Brebu. Claudia Vasile, Teodora Vasu, Andreea Rogoveanu, Claudiu Dragomir
Music – Andrei Dutu, Andra Brebu
Text – Matei Visniec

Materials: Technical equipment for musicians, lights, smoke machine. This projects is designed to fit in any space. So it’s important to know what space we would be performing in so we can work with it. We have performed in a small gallery (as seen in my video submission), a theatre in the center of Prague with 4 stories of apartments turned gallery spaces, an Austro-Hungarian invalid building for soldiers.

The beauty of this project is how each space, each performance is different. Watching it transform with each new version. Each new audience.

The concept is to bring people together. Not only the audience and the artists. But also artists who would normally not meet in their professional world. Musicians and dancers from different backgrounds in one space. Connecting and creating an ephemeral moment of artistry and exploration.

El Espejo – The mirror

Yes?…

Yes, tell me…

What?

And… what happened?

Yeah… thank you.

(you’re in 5 minutes)

Thank you.

This risky artistic endeavor succeeds for two reasons. First of all, thanks to the imagination and sensitivity of the author of the text, who wants to give the voice to her protagonist, she does not hide that what she writes about is a fiction. Secondly, thanks to the great work of Rafał Szumera, who builds the character of Kuba with consistency and restraint; without lethargy, clichés, or banality.
Newsweek Poland, Michał Centkowski.
Rafał Szumera as Kuba, the title role, makes an extraordinary impression.  The precision and sharpness in creating this character determine both the actor's talent and the dramatic power of Prześluga's play.
Agnieszka Wójtowicz.
The character, Kuba Szumery, goes further; he exclaims: “We remove everything that is an obstacle, we remove everything that we do not understand… what cannot be part of our reality.” “I invalidate everything that I do not understand,” screams Kuba, and there is all of Poland’s fear in this shout.
“Only I will speak.  I took your voice away! ”  Szumera is playing in elation, he is no longer a disabled boy daydreaming, he is a prophet of the new order.  “I'm an imaginary retard.  Conceived for the needs of the moment” – cries his Kuba – “The world needs idiots.  Even if I have all of you killed, if I do it right now, nothing will happen. “
Szumera does not imitate any disease or handicap.  He gets carried away by stories, only words betray him, only the language he speaks gives his true social position and the limit of his knowledge.
NEWSWEEK Łukasz Drewniak.

We developed this project with the interest of questioning the line between artist and viewer, the limits of working with the static and the movement, depending on the assistants so that the piece takes life.

The two artists agree that art can be therapeutic.
Reflect on what dependency is, how it feels, the process to stop being dependent, to fill the space left by dependency with something else, the fertile emptiness and what happens when we seek to be independent.

AN INVITATION TO REFLECT ON DEPENDENCIES

In the center of the installation, one of us will act as the backbone, of the being from which everything starts. From this will emerge different fabrics that
represent the different dependencies that may have been attached, the public will be able to stand and represent these possible dependencies and interact with the being of the center, a communication
between the dependency and the person, what happens?
How does each affect dependence on the person?

A proposal that invites us to become aware by placing ourselves in different positions, points of view around dependencies.
Each belt connection will have embroidered words from various dependency scenarios, such as drugs, migration, relationships.
Resorting to embroidery because of the resemblance to wearing something on the skin, as if was part of us questioning what if I let go and do I turn it into something else? The cloth represents the extensions of ourselves, which creates dependency, the belief that we cannot leave things or situations, that this is part of us.

The short triumph of Judith

Who hasn’t heard of the heroic deed of the biblical Judith! Remember? Her native town of Bethuliah is long besieged by a great Assyrian army. The citizens have little water left, and it seems like there’s no other way out but to give in. But even so, the enemy won’t have mercy upon them. They’ll loot, plunder, burn everything to the ground, rape the women, make slaves out of the children, and kill all men. What are they supposed to do? Cry, mourn, bury themselves alive?

And here comes Judith begging her citizens to last for a few more days; saying that she’s come up with an idea. The Bible doesn’t share the reasons why a young, beautiful, wealthy widow took such risks. Or rather, it speaks only of great matters. And the reason is simple: she’s in love! That’s right! She’s madly in love with a soldier, the defender of her town, and seeks to protect him from an imminent death. Only love can make a woman playfully move through the spears of the hostile guards, enter the tent of their leader, dance for him, fortune-tell him, pretend that she hates her city, forecast victory for the Assyrians…

The Bible tries to convince us that Judith is pure and sinless. Yeah, you wish! Just recall those three nights when she feasted with the enemy commander Holofernes, seduced him with her smiles and caresses, and then – snip! – cut his head off. It’s hard to believe the Biblical tales that he didn’t touch her during those three days. Not a single man – especially such a cruel and spoiled by universal unquestioning obedience military leader – will not restrain himself if he’s surrounded by goblets of wine, has a beautiful woman dancing for him, and waits for a mortal battle in a day or two. That’s why Holofernes lost his head, because he believed in the sincerity of female passion, stayed alone with Judith, got what he wanted to, and carelessly fell asleep in her arms, neglecting caution.

Judith cut off Holofernes’s head with his own sword, wrapped it in a veil, threw it into a basket, laid it with cut pomegranate fruits so that drops of blood would not arouse suspicion, threw a dark scarf over her head, and returned to the besieged city under the cover of the night. I repeat once again: only a loving, madly loving woman can to turn into a gray cat at night and sneak past the watchful guard posts invisibly… So don’t believe those words of the Bible that claim that Judith honestly widowed and mortified her flesh before and after her heroic deed. Nonsense.

Now listen further. As expected, the enemy camp flew into panic. Having seen their leader dead – or rather, beheaded – the Assyrians saw this as a heavenly punishment and, fearing that the angry gods would send even more terrible troubles to the army, collected their belongings and ran away from the ill-fated Bethuliah…

And it’s not difficult to imagine what happened in the city afterwards; after the liberation seemed to have fallen from heaven itself. The townspeople went crazy; they were screaming, hugging, kissing, crying – all for a reason!

And the widow Judith? – you ask. As soon as she appeared on the street, thousands of Bethuliah people, rushed to the feet of the heroine crying for happiness and gratitude and turning their prayers to her in ecstasy: Judith, our savior Judith, warrior Judith, sacred be your name, Judith, Judith, Judith… The head of Holofernes was raised on a shield like a banner and put up on the battlements of the city walls. And Judith led a victorious procession through the city in a palanquin carried by four young men from the most respected families.

After the horrors she saw, after three sleepless nights, after playing with death, her face seemed white as a sheet under the blue canopy. Large, black, feverishly burning eyes slowly wandered through the crowd in search of the one, that man for whom she went on this madness. Her hands —hands that had cut off the head of a merciless enemy—rested on soft armrests, high breasts quivered, curls of black hair were tugged caressingly in the breeze. Oh, how charming and majestic Judith was in the hour of her triumph! There was not a single man left in Bethuliah who could take his eyes off this enchanting picture. Pushing, stretching their necks, stumbling over stones, forgetting about everything in the world, they crowded around the palanquin, ready to give her anything, even their own heads, for the sake of a single favorable look from Judith! If she said, let’s say, “now, I want a live ostrich”, and everyone without hesitation would rush into the desert to catch a swift-footed bird and run after it until they collapsed.

When the night fell on the town and Judith took refuge in her house, the men crowded around the high fence for a long time, and finally dispersing to their homes, they loitered like sleepy flies, the work fell out of their hands – Judith still stood before their eyes, the exceptional Judith, the warrior Judith, wonderful your name be Judith, Judith, Judith…

You have probably already guessed that such a turn of events could not please the Bethuliah women. On the first day – so be it, on the first day they praised and blessed the savior of the city themselves, raised the children higher so that they could see the heroine with their own eyes. But the second day went by, followed by the third, the fourth, and the men wouldn’t let it go…

Excuse me, low long can this last? Enough is enough!

It all started quite innocently, without any conspiracy, even, as it were, to the greater glory of Judith herself. That morning – it was the fifth morning after her triumphant return – Judith was going to visit her niece. But hadn’t she stepped outside the gate, she saw that she was surrounded by an ever-increasing crowd of admirers. One of them, more sassier than others, approached her and asked the widow:

“Tell me, Judith, did you have to pull the sword of Holofernes from its scabbards, or was it already unsheathed?”

The silence fell upon the crowd as everyone was curiously listening to what Judith would answer. She eagerly began to tell how it all happened as she was suddenly interrupted by a neighbor down the street, whose husband also swallowed dust, prancing in the crowd accompanying Judith.

“And yours,” the neighbor shouted, “where was your sword? And where were you yourself? What stopped you from sneaking into the Assyrian camp at night, even if you disguised yourself in women’s clothes? Judith would certainly have given you her best skirt and smeared it with the most fragrant myrrh if you cut the throat of the Assyrian yourself! Look at him, he considers himself a man. Shame on you!” she added, turning to her friends.

The sassy man retreated as if he had been hit on the head with a fur full of wine.

“Because of such roosters,” the second woman supported the companion, “our poor widow had to do something other than her own.”

“Get out of here, chicken hero!” shouted at the same curious guy the third woman.

The young man’s face turned red. Like a frightened hare, he darted off to the side and disappeared into the labyrinth of streets.

Admirers of Judith, afraid to hear such a thing in their address, slowed down and trudged after their goddess at a distance. But, as you know, there is no force that can shut a woman’s mouth when she has already opened it.

“Their only courage is to spin around a brave woman!” the first remark stung the men.

“They couldn’t even dare to pull out a single hair from an Assyrian leader, let alone his head!”

“Why are you like this?” Judith tried to protect the men. “After all, they defended Bethuliah to the last minute…”

“Defended?” the women interrupted. “Oh, they defended us so well that if it weren’t for your courage, we’d see only firebrands smoking in pools of blood here. They’re such great defenders that a weak widow had to take up a sword!”

“If I were a man, I would burn with shame, I would not even dare to stick my nose out of my house! And here they are, showing off like peacocks, spreading their tail in front of the one who did their work. Shame on you! Kick them out, Judith, kick them as if they were mad dogs!”

“Eternal disgrace has been brought upon our city!”

“Everyone will point fingers now!”

Moreover, one lady threw a bucket of slop directly into the crowd of men, as if it were by accident.

“You know what?” suddenly suggested one of the screamers. “One of them should have their heads chopped off for cowardice!”

– That’s right!

“Judith, let Judith cut it off, it’s not the first time for her! Judith, here’s a kitchen knife for you!”

Screams, laughter, curses, threats – everything mixed up into a ball, or rather, into a lightning, the only salvation from which was to run away…

The next day, not a single man dared to follow Judith even from a distance. And if by chance he ran into her on the street, he hurried to turn aside until they doused him with slops – literally and figuratively. Everything changed so fast that the poor widow did not even have time to figure out what had happened. Maybe, she thought, women are so proud of her that they have lost their sense of proportion and all consideration? She might pass by some yard and heard women’s teachings addressed to their husbands:

“Run! Why are you standing like a log? For your goddess is coming. Crawl, lick her sandals, you owe her your life. Well, what are you waiting for?.. Eh, you coward, you can’t even properly thank the woman who taught you a lesson of courage. Shame on you! Look, baby,” – the woman lifted the baby over the fence, “look and remember: this is the only man in our city!”

Yes, Judith could no longer help but see that the sparks of delight in the eyes of the men had gone; instead, she saw irritation and even hatred in their eyes. However, the widow did not take all this personally: she was waiting for the return of her beloved, who, along with other warriors, pursued the retreating enemies to snatch the loot from them. Simon will return, and everything will be fine, she will no longer be alone with her glory, rumors will subside, she will feel safe with him. And now, when the crowd of fans seemed to have disappeared, when she faced the unexpected loneliness and even fear of people (especially of women), now the melancholy just ate her up.

One day Judith suddenly finds out that the soldiers returned from the chase two days ago. She can’t believe it: two days, it’s been two days since her Simon returned and doesn’t even show his face?! Without thinking about what people will say, she rushes to his house – hurry, hurry! – and forcefully opens the gate:

“Simon!”

He was packing things. Donkeys were waiting in the yard, ready for a long journey. Oh, just a few more minutes – and he would have left.

“Simon, what happened?”

Silence.

“Simon, it’s me, Judith, don’t you recognize me? Maybe your eyes are hurt?”

No answer.

She hugs her loved one, turns his head towards her, wants to meet the gaze, read the answer in his eyes.

“Simon, please, tell me what happened?”

Tormented by a sob, she sinks to the ground at his feet. But Simon’s hands, with not malice but decisively, push her away. His voice is heard in the courtyard: “Whoa, let’s go!”, the hooves of the retreating donkeys clatter…

Only later did Judith find out what had befallen upon him. Had Simon appeared on the streets of the city – dusty, tired, but full of the joy of victory and longing for his loved women – when a flurry of ridicule and reproaches fell upon him:

“Finally returned? What a hero! No wonder Judith fell in love with you. Such a clever guy – he couldn’t go to the Assyrians himself so he sent a weak woman there… He didn’t use the sword himself but rather put it into weak female hands. It’s much easier to run after a defeated enemy, right? If only he wasn’t a hero! You brought dishonor on our city! What are we supposed to tell our sons when they grow up? That the swords of their fathers turned out to be weaker than a woman’s skirt? And all because of this coward!”

Who do you think bullied him, who dishonored him? Women? Oh, no, they have already done their job. Now men picked up and diligently their women’s discourse.

Staggering, as if he were drunk, Simon wandered home and locked himself up there, deciding to commit suicide or leave Bethuliah. And so he left, leaving Judith lying in complete despair on the stone slabs of the courtyard…

The poor woman was forced to drag the heavy burden of her fame alone. The widow seemed to have gone deaf and blind. Like a ghost, she slipped out into the city, hiding her eyes, blackened, silent. No one approached her, not even the dogs.

“This is our saint,” the women followed her from a distance. “Our holy savior Judith.”

Now they themselves incited men:

“Why are you standing there like chumps? Approach her! Say a kind word, see her off, let her know that we are grateful to her. Don’t you see how lonely she is, how she drooped, how she lost her power of speech because of loneliness… Our Savior, may her eternal glory be with her!”

Pity in their voices mixed up with satisfaction; after all, they managed to raise this men’s idol to a pedestal of such a height that no other human being could reach Judith.

However, Judith did not put up with her fate. The gloomy loneliness had an exciting effect on her imagination. More often than not, images of her visit to Holofernes’ tent surfaced in her memory. Again and again she saw the Assyrian commander: here he wipes drops of wine from his mustache; here he offers her the juiciest pomegranate; he begs her to sing, sends his friends and servants away to stay alone with her…

My God, he was the last man who held her in his strong arms, the last who gave her his strength and love. And she cut his head off with his own sword, so trustingly and carelessly thrown next to the bed… She chopped it off for the sake of her beloved man, and he, frightened by the woman’s tongues, ran away from her – from a woman who was not afraid of the death itself! They pushed her into the abyss of black loneliness, such loneliness that she even forgot the smell of male sweat! So why did she even have to sacrifice herself?

The Assyrian commander was not afraid to let her into his tent, he did not order the guards to stand behind him during the feast, he was so brave and noble that he sent away his guards, fell asleep unarmed… Oh, this man would not have left the last word for a woman, he would not have fled away on a donkey! He would have stood up for himself and for her against these bastards – her fellow citizens … And she? She’s used these hands to…  

Where is his proud, desperate head, which she dragged to the city that night choking with vanity?

Nobody cared about why Judith often began to wander around the city walls, rummaging through the slopes and ditches overgrown with shrubs… Finally she found what she was looking for: a completely gnawed by dogs and mice skull. And you know what? She took it home. Like on that memorable night. Even in the same basket, covered with fruit on top.

That is why Judith is usually depicted in this position: sitting, holding a head or skull on her laps, and looking into the distance with a strange, mysterious gaze… And only a few, very few people understand what she really feels.