The three-part series L’anatomia del sogno celebrates the second Open Call of the Blog, which gathered responses to the Blog Manifest around the question “Cosa risveglia l’imprevisto?”, engaging the public in crafting strategies for staying with the unknown, both individually and collectively.
The voices of Anna Estdahl, Daniela D’Amore, Eugenia Coscarella, Florencia Andrea Vercelli, Ilaria Bertazzi, Kadri Sirel, Marta Montoni, and Raffaella Tomellini intertwine within a dream matrix: a cloudy “anatomy” connected through hyperlinks that invites the reader to wander across spaces and leap from one floor to another.
Photos used in the collages are by Andrea Macchia. Cover image by Marta Montoni. Flower of Anna Estahl. Collages by Kadri Sirel. Texts by Ilaria Bertazzi “Ogni tazza rotta” and Florencia Andrea Vercelli “Il mio primo tango a Parigi”.
The Open Call practices connecting fragments and unfinished thoughts submitted by our readers, trusting that each contribution will find its place within a collective, choral voice. It proposes a shift in the understanding of the archive: imagined not only through its contents or spatial qualities, but as a system that organises knowledge by generating a web of connections between things.
Alongside the more fleshy and corporeal textures of the Almanacco di un Cuore Condiviso, the second Open Call invites us to imagine this web as a cloudy, immanent texture, where the voices and the connections between them thicken the air and create an atmosphere of sustenance.
The question “Cosa risveglia l’imprevisto?” emerges from this year’s curatorial theme, Sistema degli affetti, which explores how the surrounding atmosphere transforms the quality of our relationships. It reflects on affect and affection beyond the personal realm, and how being „affected“ by each other and our environments highlights the inescapable interdependence of things.
In observing a world permeated by supremacist tensions, much of this season’s choreographic research investigates how, within the domain of bodies and feeling, we might create distance from familiar mechanisms of control and immerse ourselves in ambiguous, dreamlike and alien terrains, experimenting with creating connections in unforeseen ways.
We are crafting exercises to train our capacity to welcome the unknown and to ride the spark of frustration toward a flirtation with a different kind of knowledge.
The three-part series L’anatomia del sogno celebrates the second Open Call of the Blog, which gathered responses to the Blog Manifest around the question “Cosa risveglia l’imprevisto?”, engaging the public in crafting strategies for staying with the unknown, both individually and collectively.
The voices of Anna Estdahl, Daniela D’Amore, Eugenia Coscarella, Florencia Andrea Vercelli, Ilaria Bertazzi, Kadri Sirel, Marta Montoni, and Raffaella Tomellini intertwine within a dream matrix: a cloudy “anatomy” connected through hyperlinks that invites the reader to wander across spaces and leap from one floor to another.
Photos used in the collages are by Andrea Macchia. Collages, videos and text by Eugenia Coscarella.
The Open Call connects fragments and unfinished thoughts submitted by our readers, trusting that each contribution will find its place within a collective, choral voice. It proposes a shift in the understanding of the archive: imagined not only through its contents or spatial qualities, but as a system that organises knowledge by generating a web of connections between things.
Alongside the more fleshy and corporeal textures of the Almanacco di un Cuore Condiviso, the second Open Call invites us to imagine this web as a cloudy, immanent texture, where the voices and the connections between them thicken the air and create an atmosphere of sustenance.
The question “Cosa risveglia l’imprevisto?” emerges from this year’s curatorial theme, Sistema degli affetti, which explores how the surrounding atmosphere transforms the quality of our relationships. It reflects on affect and affection beyond the personal realm, and how being „affected“ by each other and our environments highlights the inescapable interdependence of things.
In observing a world permeated by supremacist tensions, much of this season’s choreographic research investigates how, within the domain of bodies and feeling, we might create distance from familiar mechanisms of control and immerse ourselves in ambiguous, dreamlike and alien terrains, experimenting with creating connections in unforeseen ways.
We are crafting exercises to train our capacity to welcome the unknown and to ride the spark of frustration toward a flirtation with a different kind of knowledge.
Attraverso il progetto Camp-In*, presso la Lavanderia a Vapore tra il 13 e il 23 novembre 2025, emerge una riappropriazione poetica e relazionale del parassitare. Parassitare come un processo circolare che connette le dimensioni organiche e sognanti della ricerca artistica.
* una residenza collettiva ed una esplorazione della pedagogia orizzontale con i dancemaker G. Re, Clara Delorme, Nunzia Picciallo, Christopher Serebour, Erica Meucci, Ornella Trespidi e i mentor Enrico Malatesta, Elisabetta Consonni, Cristina Rizzo, Salvo Lombardo, Giuseppe Comuniello + Camilla Guarino, Silvia Bottiroli + Paola Granato e Andréane Leclerc.
Parassitare come modalità di entrare nelle cose, aggrappandosi temporaneamente a una ricerca, lasciandosi attraversare e trasformare. È la fisicalità della co-investigazione. Co-spirare attraverso feedback come nutrimento reciproco.
Parassitare la Lavanderia e la ricerca di ognuno come un luogo, un campo vivo. Parassitare lasciando delle tracce e delle piste investigative come risorse circolari da seguire, deviare, reinventare.
Parassitare è un modo di relazionarsi senza uno scopo. L’obiettivo è immergersi nella qualità del contatto, infondendola attraverso il sostegno collettivo.
Parassitare come nascita di un corpo ed immaginazione interdipendente, una simbiosi mutualistica tra la realtà e i sogni, che si influenzano e si trasformano.
Parassitare far affiorare un ambito diffuso tra l’oggetto, il soggetto e il terreno di ricerca, che si intrecciano in una conoscenza aliena che sedimenta visioni, competenze e metodi di relazionarsi con l’altro.
I collage sono realizzati con alcuni frammenti dagli universi di ricerca di:
Clara Delorme
Nunzia Picciallo
Erica Meucci
Christopher Serebour
Ornella Trespidi
ampliati durante il Camp In, dal 13 al 20 novembre 2025 alla Lavanderia a Vapore.
L’articolo e i collage di Marta Montoni e Kadri Sirel.
L’Almanacco di un Cuore Condiviso celebra la prima edizione del progetto Open Call lanciato dal Blog di Lavanderia a Vapore nell’ottobre 2025. Al centro dell’Open Call c’è il desiderio di incontrare le nostre lettrici e i nostri lettori e di creare relazioni con loro, invitandoli a interagire con il Manifesto del blog.
Il Manifesto distilla l’atmosfera e le esperienze della casa della danza in un testo poetico. Scrivere il Manifesto è una pratica di archiviazione incarnata e circolare: un modo di organizzare il sapere vissuto e generato attraverso i processi artistici in un assemblaggio evocativo, che si rinnova tre volte durante la stagione in linea con il movimento della traiettoria curatoriale.
Il manifesto settembre – dicembre: Lasciamoci andare, condensa le esperienze della residenza collettiva del Bando Aria, della residenza Booster e della ricerca Archivio Liquido a cura di Kadri Sirel – Eugenia Coscarella.
Queste esperienze hanno in comune il tema del ‘Lasciarsi andare’ all’incontro e ai suoi imprevisti per ossigenarsi attraverso lo stare insieme.
In particolare, L‘Archivio Liquido, una ricerca che crea pratiche di documentazione e archiviazione a partire da esperienze collettive, immagina lo spazio dell’archivio come centro cardiaco. Uno spazio di accoglienza, espansione dell’ascolto e rilascio, di ciò che scorre nel sangue e arriva al cuore.
Le domande che ci guidano sono:
Come nell’incontro ossigeniamo il nostro archivio?
A cosa risponde il cuore?
Entrambe queste domande, che hanno origine nello spazio fisico e sensoriale dell’Archivio Liquido, si estendono nell’Open Call per rispondere al desiderio di creare relazioni e attivare un nutrimento reciproco anche nello spazio digitale e, così facendo, di dilatare la dimensione di un cuore collettivo oltre il qui e ora.
L’Almanacco di un Cuore Condiviso diventa una radiografia spazio-temporale di un cuore espanso. Un ritratto di famiglia di una comunità temporanea. Una liberazione del cuore intrappolato nell’illusione della separazione, esplorando invece il cuore come una coreografia liquida in cui memorie, paure, desideri, emozioni e silenzi vengono co-creati, intensificando il presente e permettendo al futuro di prendere forma come possibilità condivisa.
Lo spirito poliamoroso dell’Almanacco emerge non solo attraverso i materiali, ma anche nell’approccio alla composizione di un canto corale, in cui ogni contributo ricevuto trova il proprio posto all’interno di una custodia. Questa custodia è immaginata in modo affine a quanto descritto da Ursula K. Le Guin in The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction (1986), dove l’autrice esprime il desiderio di raccontare storie secondo la fisicità di una borsa: una forma capace di raccogliere molte voci. Qui, ogni materiale intreccia uno spazio che permette l’emergere di connessioni e sincronicità.
Questo cuore condiviso sonnambulo è una visione collettiva di Alessandra Fortuna, Edoardo Urso, Florencia Andrea Vercelli, Gabriele Germano Gaburro, Giorgia Lolli, Kadri Sirel, Marta Montoni, Rac Montoro e Sara Saccotelli. Immagini di Edoardo Urso, Marta Montoni e Kadri Sirel. Editing e design a cura di Kadri Sirel.
The following postcards are created from a conversation between the Blog x Anna Estdahl, Lavanderia’s coordinator of artistic residencies. Our chat was mediated by the Mobilising Words1 card game and unfolded into an unfinished meditation about interdependence—the emotional, ethical, and structural complexities of living in relation to others, a contemplation about strength not as endurance, but as elasticity and care, and about survival—whether emotional or political—that depends on the nets we weave between ourselves and others.
The postcards are invitations for you to join our conversation, to play with us, to imagine with us.
Send us a postcard with your thoughts, random words, foggy images, flashing references or songs.
Anna: Interesting idea. Seems counterintuitive though. Protest movements focus more on justice, human rights—asserting things not being honored…
Kadri: …yeah, not directly about “pleasure”…
Anna: …that part about meeting local activists does resonate with “pleasure” in a way—connecting with people, learning. But shouting… Pleading “pleasure” at a protest?
It doesn’t align. Protest is about urgency, injustice, survival…
…but being part of a demonstration can be a kind of pleasure—feeling you’re doing something, even if small.
Yes! A sort of self-consolation too. You’re powerless to stop it, but you’re showing up, being visible. That matters…
…I was chatting with a colleague—she went to the “Red Line” protest in The Hague. In May, it was 100,000 people; in June, 150,000. It’s growing!
Same in Torino. “Torino per Gaza.” It started with students and pacifists, and now it’s more intergenerational. Last week’s2 protest had over 8,000 people. And the media coverage has shifted… before they framed it negatively—“pro-Hamas,” “pro-Palestinian”—but now it’s acknowledged as a civil movement opposing genocide. The media is shifting.
So coming back to pleasure—I think there’s a kind of pleasure in standing with others, saying something collectively. That shared resonance…
…there’s value in telling stories, in touching people through them—not just asserting facts, but engaging empathy.
Otherwise people deflect—”It’s not my business. They’re Islamic. The state is exporting democracy.” They push it away.
For example, on Sunday I shared a fundraising link in my family’s WhatsApp group—for eSIMs to help people in Gaza access the internet. And someone said, “Why don’t they have internet?” Others began attacking the whole idea. I ended it by saying, “Donate if you want. If not, stay silent. “ And they said to me at the end to post only nice things: “And please, if you want to post. Only nice things. Things that don’t ruin our Sunday mood. Things like this:”
Anna: People often associate pleasure only with fun, food, relaxation. But how can you enjoy life when you know what’s happening elsewhere? I’m not talking about taking pleasure in pain—but feeling part of humanity. That’s the only real kind of pleasure, I think—empathy.
And last year, we talked a lot about pleasure as a revolutionary trigger. Yes, pleasure empowers us—but how do we go from that to passion? To fighting for something?
Yes, how do you go from pleasure to being passionate? And then going over from pleasure that you might have on your own private island to connecting it to what there is around you. So, a pleasure that is not isolated from the world around us?
Anna: Yeah—it’s all about care and empathy. It emphasizes relationships—relationality. So in that sense, Ur becomes more than a physical place. It’s a community, a net of relationships you can rely on—people you can count on.
Kadri: How do we show empathy to those who are fragile or in need of care?
Anna: I think by listening. By being present. Even in silence—just being seen is incredibly important when you’re going through something hard. To have someone who simply acknowledges your pain.
I remember when my mother was close to dying—her body was so fragile. And I whispered to her:
You can do whatever you want. If you want to go, you can go. We’re here. We’re prepared. Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid of pain, or that we won’t know what to do without you. Don’t feel lonely. You are free. Go toward the light, if that’s what you want.
Kadri: So, you gave her permission. You said, “It’s okay either way. You can go or stay. You don’t have to worry about us.”
Anna: I think being a caregiver is the hardest part—giving care while sometimes feeling like you can’t take it anymore.
So—it depends who the “fragile body” is. That’s really the question.
And it’s not always clear. Because when the card talks about “building protection “around your life,” it’s also about yourself. So how do you protect your own life, while taking care of someone else’s?
Because when you’re caring for someone like that, you absorb everything. You lose yourself. Your life disappears.
So… how do you choose who you care for?
Maybe one way to care for yourself is to set limits. But if you don’t know where your limits are, how do you set them?
Kadri: Hmm.
Anna: I think not knowing our limits comes from fear.
Often fear is our biggest mistake. Fear of change. Fear of doing something different.
I think the real issue is leaving behind what’s familiar—even when it’s painful. That’s why we keep going beyond our limits. We put a lot of effort into keeping what we know.
And I think this happens outside personal life, too. In work environments, for example. Some people are afraid to let go—afraid to delegate, or share power or space. So they hold on tightly.
Anna: Yes—like a net. Like a spiderweb. Fragile, sticky, but flexible.
Kadri: Yes.
Anna: You can stretch it. You can fall and still climb back up. I like that. Spiderwebs.
Actually, I like spiders. They’re so timid—like “You don’t see me, you don’t see me, I’m invisible!”—but they’re also incredibly prepared. Always alert.
They teach us about concentration. Attention.
And I love when you see a spider just floating through the air, building something from nothing. It’s funny and inspiring. They’re so brave—like, “I’ll build my castle right here, in the middle of the street.”
How do they choose where to land? I don’t know.
So, Ur is a net!
I like that comparison. A net. Ur is a net.
We’ve found another definition!
Kadri: Yes.
Anna: Spider-man!
1Mobilising Words is card game that gathers the collectively built knowledge between parters and local communities of the On Mobilisation3 project and offers practical, poetic, and political insights into mobilising communities through culture, care, and creativity.
The game models a form of collective inquiry where words are not just linguistic units but tools for sense-making, reflection, and transformation.
3On Mobilisation is a project that from April 2023 continued over two years, focussing on community mobilisation through artistic processes.
With Lavanderia a Vapore as one of the partners (among wpZimmer, Baltic Art Center, Studio ALTA, and the two associated partners: Antwerp Research Institute for the Arts and Uppsala University Graduate School in Sustainability Studies), the main objective of the project was to respond to the need for transnational creation and circulation of knowledge through capacity bulding.
To celebrate the conclusion of the project in May 2025, there are now published two instruments – the On Mobilisation Toolkit and the Mobilising Words card game to share the knowledge that emerged in the project with the public.
2The conversation with Anna took place on the 18th of June 2025.
The following postcards are created from a conversation between the Blog x Jija Sohn, an artist in residency at Lavanderia a Vapore. Our chat was mediated by the Mobilising Words1 card game and unfolded into a playful and imaginative sharing of our (Estonian and Japanese-Korean) cultural backgrounds: an unfinished attempt to reimagine protection from the point of view of collectivity and sharing.
The postcards are invitations for you to join our conversation, to play with us, to imagine with us.
Send us a postcard with your thoughts, random words, foggy images, flashing references or songs.
Kadri: Maybe I told you this story from the last time I visited Estonia: we did this public space residency. When walking around, I saw a lot of “private property” signs.
Jija: Ah, yes.
Kadri: “Private property!”, which communicates this imperative, like a stop, “don’t enter!”.
Kadri: I think it comes from this wish to separate and protect what is mine so it’s not mistaken as “ours”. I remember we spoke about it. In Italy I haven’t seen so many signs like this and I’ve been thinking about this from a post-soviet perspective: a sign of history where people’s property was forcefully collectivized – what was “mine” was forced to be “ours”.
Jija: Yes.
Kadri: And… But… But the cards talk about… One’s origin, where you come from. It’s not necessarily what you own, is it?
Jija: No, because it doesn’t mean you own the origins. But it also depends what we mean by origins. Is it a place, is it a sense, sensations, awareness?
Kadri: Yes.
Kadri: Reading these cards, I ask – could it be possible to reimagine the idea of “protection” that traditionally, it’s tied to property, economy, ownership. We build walls to protect what we own, to keep others out. Is there is a different way of protecting when we shift the focus to our origins—our sense of belonging?
Jija: Protecting so that nobody harms you?
Kadri: Like, how do we protect these things? And does this type of protection allow us to rethink… The normative, like… How do we protect something like a sense of origin or belonging?
Jija: Exactly. So it doesn’t have to be these borders… You don’t have to “own” your place. It can also belong to others.
Kadri: For example to me, I’ve noticed that to me protecting where I come from—it’s through sharing it. I protect my roots when I speak about them, when I open them up to others. That’s how it becomes something alive.
Jija: Yes, it becomes something energetic, but also relational. It’s about the people who recognize and share that origin with you. Like someone saying, “Ah, you’re from Estonia!”—that’s a kind of imaginative link, a shared memory or association.
Kadri: Yes.
Jija: It’s like saying hello to a sibling you didn’t know you had. There’s something familial in it.
Kadri: It reminds me of your hotpot evenings. That, too, is a way of sharing where you come from.
Jija: Yes, and sharing taste.
Kadri: Sharing taste.
Jija: Yes. It’s true. And… How… But this is also… Wow, this is also nice. Like, now you said about the hotpot, and this is kind of like a metaphor for shared waiting. How we eat. How do we start and how we end to eat. How we wait. Right. I just realized—it’s not only about eating. It’s the time we take. Waiting together. Something slowly forming.
Kadri:Oh! Would you say the hotpot is that time?
Jija: It’s a collective moment of waiting. Something begins to take shape. It’s more than food. Maybe the hotpot is a metaphor for gatherings. Hmm.
Kadri: Do you want to open this a bit?
Jija: Yeah, actually, because it’s like creating a different… …stage. Because it’s on the table, and you are together. It’s different from making soup in the kitchen, out of sight. With hotpot, it’s on the table, in front of everyone. There’s fire. There is movement. Smells!
Kadri: The smells!
Jija: Yes. And everything goes in—meat, fish, vegetables. It all cooks together. Meanwhile, people are talking: “Cheers! How was your day?” “Oh, busy. But now…” Then something starts to bubble, to boil. Smoke rises. It becomes ready.
Jija:And there’s that moment: It’s ready. Soup is ready.
Kadri: Soup is ready.
Jija: And it wouldn’t cook the same if we weren’t there together. The hotpot needs us gathered around it. That’s the whole point. It’s completely different otherwise.
1Mobilising Words is card game that gathers the collectively built knowledge between parters and local communities of the On Mobilisation2 project and offers practical, poetic, and political insights into mobilising communities through culture, care, and creativity.
The game models a form of collective inquiry where words are not just linguistic units but tools for sense-making, reflection, and transformation.
2On Mobilisation is a project that from April 2023 continued over two years, focussing on community mobilisation through artistic processes.
With Lavanderia a Vapore as one of the partners (among wpZimmer, Baltic Art Center, Studio ALTA, and the two associated partners: Antwerp Research Institute for the Arts and Uppsala University Graduate School in Sustainability Studies), the main objective of the project was to respond to the need for transnational creation and circulation of knowledge through capacity bulding.
To celebrate the conclusion of the project in May 2025, there are now published two instruments – the On Mobilisation Toolkit and the Mobilising Words card game to share the knowledge that emerged from the project with the public.
