susanna
pruna
pruna
No Man’s Land is a performance that opens a space of rupture—a threshold where language collapses and presence becomes a political act. We live surrounded by visible and invisible wars. Some explode in Gaza or Ukraine; others are fought silently, in kitchens, in bodies, or between relationships. The world watches, but does not act. Images dissolve. Everything becomes normalized.
This performance refuses spectacle. It does not aim to represent pain, but to hold it—without consolation. At its center there is a fragile body, a symbolic wound, and a question directed at those who play at war.
Through minimal, embodied gestures, No Man’s Land generates a zone that cannot be occupied—neither by power, nor ego, nor control. It invites presence, not performance. It holds silence, not answers.
At the end, the audience may participate in an act of collective writing: the transcription of a manifesto, a response to what has been seen—or unseen.
This is not a metaphor. It is the body as the last territory that cannot -and must not- be conquered. A space where compassion might still exist, not as an idea, but as something that touches, shakes, and demands.
Curatorial Note
No Man’s Land reclaims and redefines a concept historically tied to war and territorial control, shifting it toward the body as the final space of resistance. In this performance, Susanna Pruna does not represent conflict—she interrupts it. Through a radical poetics of dispossession, minimal gesture, and presence, the work proposes a space where compassion may still emerge—not through morality or discourse, but through the shared trembling between those who act and those who witness.
No Man’s Land, as envisioned, operates on multiple layers at once: political, corporeal, symbolic, affective, and collective. It is a performance of serene yet forceful radicality, where the gesture does not need to scream to tear.
This performance refuses spectacle. It does not aim to represent pain, but to hold it—without consolation. At its center there is a fragile body, a symbolic wound, and a question directed at those who play at war.
Through minimal, embodied gestures, No Man’s Land generates a zone that cannot be occupied—neither by power, nor ego, nor control. It invites presence, not performance. It holds silence, not answers.
At the end, the audience may participate in an act of collective writing: the transcription of a manifesto, a response to what has been seen—or unseen.
This is not a metaphor. It is the body as the last territory that cannot -and must not- be conquered. A space where compassion might still exist, not as an idea, but as something that touches, shakes, and demands.
Curatorial Note
No Man’s Land reclaims and redefines a concept historically tied to war and territorial control, shifting it toward the body as the final space of resistance. In this performance, Susanna Pruna does not represent conflict—she interrupts it. Through a radical poetics of dispossession, minimal gesture, and presence, the work proposes a space where compassion may still emerge—not through morality or discourse, but through the shared trembling between those who act and those who witness.
No Man’s Land, as envisioned, operates on multiple layers at once: political, corporeal, symbolic, affective, and collective. It is a performance of serene yet forceful radicality, where the gesture does not need to scream to tear.
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