enclosure, 2026

töödeldud metallvardad

I burst out to you and to him and to them. I am so slight, so tiny, here on this spacious stage. In front of me stretches an indefinite horde, whom I anxiously peep at. Their focused gazes and sharp ears, they absorb the consequences of every bow stroke and passage. They observe how I am so tiny, how the sound is so full, so powerful, how black and white becomes colorful through me, how the sounds resonate … But this wonderful music, it gets ruined if I make the wrong move, if I’m too lively, if I’m not lively enough, if my hands are sweaty, if they are too dry, if the bows get tangled, if I stand in the wrong place, if I forget the next section, if I forget the next motive, if I don’t react fast enough, if I react too rapidly, if my skirt isn’t quite to my knees, if my shoes aren’t shiny enough, if my nails are varnished, if my nails are too chewed, if I don’t breathe enough, if I breathe too much and at the wrong time, if my bow isn’t deep enough, if my bow is too deep, if my face is too expressive, if my face is too dull, if… I have so little space. So little space in this hall. I am so alone in the midst of all these eyes. So alone, under this spotlight. And trapped in this invisible circle, in this staged production, where sincerity is shackled by unspoken conventions.