A decisive entrance by the performers is announced with the shout: “Congo kaka boye” (This is Congo). The choreographic work by Gervais Tomadiatunga bursts open explosively, transforming the wounds and traumas of his childhood into creativity, resilience, and hope. Drawing on his experience as a former child soldier and coltan miner, Gervais brings to life characters who embody the struggles and victories of Congolese youth facing socio-economic and environmental challenges. On stage, the performers represent a generation searching for its way amidst alcohol, religion, sex, confusion, and disillusionment. They carry with them a rage for life, a vital need to create. The captivating music accompanies them in this relentless search, uniting their bodies in a collective struggle. Individualities persist, but their bodies coexist with a shared emotion and vibration. The dance unites them, transforming them into a collective body—courageous, proud, tireless—that carries within it the joys and pains of everyday life. The performance tackles urgent issues such as power outages, water scarcity, and pollution, placing the fundamental role of women in Congolese society at the forefront. With four dancers on stage and sets created from recycled materials, this creation is both a cry for social justice and a celebration of freedom through movement.

Around the world, people are fighting to make their voices heard. As the audience enters, Maia lies on the floor at the center of the stage, already immersed in an inner struggle. The isolated movements of her chest mimic the gesture of someone fighting for breath. Shadows on the wall surround her, personifying the voices of others in her mind, silencing her. Shouting to be heard is counterproductive. The benefit lies in choosing when to speak and when to remain silent. However, not everyone has the luxury of this choice. Often, the “other” personifies the cultural, political, racial, and genetic factors that silence some voices while allowing others to speak loudly. It is often those who fight the hardest to enter the debate who are silenced the most. This imbalance of power, alongside personal experiences, inspired this piece. In her solo, Maia Joseph seeks to overcome the repercussions of the “interiorization” of voice while struggling to hear her own. She is her own “other” to defeat. On stage, she plays with glances, intercepting the energy of the audience because this helps her connect with them. By doing so, she allows herself and the audience to be vulnerable, adding a sense of humanity and authenticity to the performance and addressing a timeless, universal theme—rediscovering the strength that transcends verbal ability.

A love story between a right skate and a left skate. The German artist Moritz Ostruschnjak has managed to turn this concept into a captivating tale of a blossoming love that, before it can be fulfilled, shatters in a separation filled with pain and torment. In this piece, two solos merge, clash, chase each other, become a duet, and then unravel. Miyuki Shimitsu and Guido Badalamenti move in a hybrid universe, accompanied live by the piano notes of Reinier van Houdt. The skates become extensions of the body, arms stretch like legs, Alvin Curran transforms into Yoko Ono, and pianos expand to fill entire rooms with silence. The magnetic play between bodies and objects brings impossible creatures to life, ephemeral worlds, and stories in continuous mutation. The real images that emerge break and recombine into new trajectories. Romanticism clashes with violence, poetry with brutality, lyricism with chaos. Cry Why is a short-circuit of meaning and perception, an electric mix between the lyricism of Holiday on Ice and the subversive energy of cyberpunk.

Two individuals seek a way to break free from social chains. The struggle is, first and foremost, internal: to emancipate themselves from the stereotypes of power and submission, they must embark on a journey often hindered by the fear of uncovering what lies hidden within. Externally, the persona they have built to shield themselves from society is the very one they long to destroy. Born from social fragilities and the frustrations carried over time, their deepest self remains concealed—until, like a storm that disrupts and dismantles, it demands its space. The mask loses its solidity, trembles, and collapses without resistance. The castaway, having just recognized themselves, is finally human, stripped of direction, and drifting. This initiates a spontaneous, unplanned exploration of the urban environment, seeking to grasp its influence on emotions and behaviors. As they drift further from predetermined paths, losing themselves among distorted references, they paradoxically begin to glimpse a new horizon—one that more closely resembles their true essence. Fear dissipates, but responsibility remains.

Still, in front of an audience of strangers, five women wipe the tears from their wet cheeks. What pain do they carry? Does it even belong to them?
With Bouffées, Leïla Ka envisions a way to heal the incurable, embracing grief and transforming it into a force of power and rebirth. She brings sisterhood to the stage in its most recognizable form, paying a just and profound tribute to past battles fought and those yet to come.
Flowing, floral dresses in vibrant colors, hair pulled back into tight ponytails—this work is both artistically and symbolically striking. Its depth stems from the choreographer’s personal struggle against imposed roles and her ability to place major themes at the heart of those who, in one way or another, yearn for freedom.
Not just sorrow, but also resistance: the five performers fall and rise again, their breath a rhythmic force binding them together in suffering. The entire piece hinges on the contrast between imposed constraints and the performers’ voluntary movement—a relentless push toward liberation.

There are two of them on stage, but there could be hundreds or thousands. Together, they start off unsteady, sick, sometimes happy, throwing themselves forward—perhaps for the better, but most likely for the worse. Against them stands an adversity we can only sense, yet know nothing about. As we wait to learn more, the audience is left simmering. Heroines—at times invincible, at times tragically vulnerable—push forward, resist, sometimes collapse, but fight relentlessly until their strength is completely drained. In a winding path of triumph and weakness, hope and disillusion blend in equal measure.

C’est toi qu’on adore is a cry of hope, where the body exults in what it holds most dear: the vital force that keeps us standing, indifferent to everything else. Here, the destination no longer matters; the arrival is merely the mirage of where the journey began. This choreography, too, conceals within it a hidden fire—something deeper and more significant than its final moments, something worth rising for and insisting upon.

We are made of earth, water, air, fire, and space—five elements that, intertwining and dancing, create a body that breathes, thinks, dreams, loves, is born, and dies. This creation revolves around a central theme: perceiving Earth through the lens of wonder. The inspiration stems from observing our satellite: when we see the Moon’s ashen glow, we know that its darkened side is illuminated by sunlight reflected from the Earth. If we stood on the Moon, this reflection would appear as Earthshine, just as we observe Moonlight from Earth when the Moon’s glow is cast upon us. Though merely a grey rock, the Moon has inspired artists across centuries, urging them to create literature, music, paintings, and dance. Imagining ourselves as lunar inhabitants gazing at Earth—a vibrant, colorful, living world—reveals the immense poetry, music, and dance that arise from our awe for the planet. Chiaro di Terra is a triptych, the first movement of which is set to an original musical composition created specifically for this choreography. Here, traditional artistic hierarchies are subverted: music does not dictate the dance, nor is it selected to fit choreographic needs. Instead, the choreography itself inspires the music, which emerges by following the dancers’ movements, dynamics, and the core narrative of the five elements.

A performance that tells the deep and transformative journey that involved the participants, placing their bodies at the center of a unique experience. When a group of women from Barriera di Milano decides to explore movement as a tool for liberation, expression, and connection, a continuous and intimate dialogue with themselves comes to life. Through shared exercises and targeted guidance, every movement opens the door to new expressions and hidden sensations, revealing the power of a body that speaks more than words. A vibrant and inclusive atmosphere, where every difference is celebrated, and every pause and breath contribute to building a body language of profound meanings, going far beyond technique to touch the heart of the human experience. The path, culminating in a final reflection that strengthens the sense of community and mutual support, increases awareness of the body as a source of strength. The final presentation of the Tansini workshop is a powerful demonstration of personal and collective growth, a moment when the workshop returns voice and body as an act of activism against violence on women. Fatti Viva is not just an opportunity for growth but a cry for freedom and hope for every woman who finds the courage to speak out.

How can we move in the same direction while speaking two different languages? In this piece, two styles of dance meet in the same performance as an act of resilience, a collective exploration of our authenticity, our inspirations, and trust in others and our own abilities. Diversity that doesn’t reject but hybridizes. Hybridization – this is the key word that challenges Marion Alzieu and constitutes her main source of inspiration. Through a multidimensional body language – physical, energetic, refined, and unique – the choreographer seeks balance between tensions and contrasting elements: consistencies, colors, softness, and forces, dynamics in tension. She uses Krump as a tool for reflection on authenticity and community bond. She achieves an aesthetic clarity that feeds on the fusion of differences. Baggy blue jeans with floral patterns, tight black t-shirts, bodies of performers who are diametrically opposed yet in tune, a centrifugal but solid and compact duo, feeding endlessly on each other. Hold Fast is the representation of a functioning social engine.