author: A.PART Team

The Saturday Meetings

A big THANK YOU to all artists of the A.PART-Festival 2020! It has been an exciting and challenging time, and our blog has become much more than a makeshift solution, thanks to your commitment, curiosity, and creativity. Our weekly Saturday meetings have been an anchor through the past six weeks, and it will feel quite strange not to see you anymore in this virtual community space. The A.PART festival has come to an end – but the blog lives on, as do your artistic processes.
We are looking forward to keep seeing and reading you here, and hopefully, we’ll celebrate this experience sometime soon in the 3D world.

Till soon,
The A.PART Team
Julek, Diethild & Gabi


With Podcats, we attempt to contextualize the A.PART-Festival 2020. Now, finally, you can listen to us while doing your dishes!!

For our first edition, we invited Alex Hennig for a conversation. Together we wander through questions around the blog, the event of theatre, and habits of watching in times of Corona.

We also play games.


PS: Because we are all native German speakers, it would be bizarre to have a conversation in English. I want to encourage all our colleagues and friends that feel insecure with the german language to give it a try. We are available for questions about translation. 🙂

Click down here:

PODCATS was edited and mastered by Lea Niemann.

Text #1 zum A.PART-Festival von Johanna Ackva

Here is the first of a series of reflections by studioschreiberin Johanna Ackva. She took a look at the blog and gathered her impressions in this beautiful text. Take a look:

Text #1

Communication across distance: Trisha Brown’s ‘Roof Piece’ (home version)


This article in The New York Times explains how Trisha Brown’s ‘Roof Piece’, originally created and performed in 1971 on the roofs of SoHo, is transferred in 2020 into the digital space.

teaming up on saturdays

finding touch

Today, it is warm outside. Sun could touch skin, for a moment, a few minutes, half an hour. Each time someone jogs past me, I hold my breath, I noticed this today. And I start to wonder how many more invisible and silent patterns have already settled in bodies moving in urban space. Some close friends spend time in the countryside now, staying in the house of a befriended family, and they tell me that not much has changed in their daily life. Solely grocery shopping becomes an adventure for a single body, instead of collective excursion and responsibility. And return to home remains a vague date.

After spending a few hours in Zoom-Meetings with many people, most of them I never met in person, I end up in a conversation where redefinition of virtual space is attempted. While I feel my friends, that I love to touch, moving further and further away, as my physical recollection of what they feel like, what they smell like, what the sheer presence of their bodies is, moves into an undefined space where memory and imagination mingle, I discover empathy on a physical level while commenting on the designs of a variety of platforms that enable live-conversation in times of Covid-19. For instance, D. mentions that on Facebook messenger call without video, one can see an aureole around one’s profile picture that radiates with the changing volume of one’s voice. I then imagine D. getting closer to the microphone, moving away from it, breathing, moving the jaw, and tongues to form words. Suddenly I feel spacially close to D. We probably look for connection and sensibility wherever we can at the moment. This thought is (also) amusing to me. Or maybe I reveal here that I haven’t arrived in the 21st century yet. Where to find sensibility right now? Where to find an equivalent of touch? At least for the time being and as a strategy to not lose one’s mind. A shift in perspective. A shit loads of perspectives. Sitting perspective. What are the triggers that remind me to feel the body while sitting in front of the screen? Truman Capote wrote lying down.

While formulating this text, I listen to Laurens waves again and again. Drauf hängen geblieben, sozusagen. It is soothing and it moves me. I start to think into Alica’s proposal more in detail after reading her first post. No, I imagine walking through the image she posted. Entering it, walking in it, pausing, returning, as if it were a building or big scale sculpture. I watch Maria amid piles and piles of paper sitting on the floor, writing by night, in my head. I want to drink tea after reading Lina’s post. I wonder how one keeps things whole if one wishes to do so. And so on and so on.
I discover feeling into the processes of our A.PART artists. Welch Überraschung! Welch Glück! Welch Entdeckung! Welch Fragen über Fragen allerdings, die ich mir noch unformuliert und leise stelle, weil ich sie selbst noch nicht verstehe.