2021
HEAVEN’T
Project stages the charged act of watching and being watched. Born from the solitude of the pandemic, it transforms the language of webcam performance into a live ritual, where intimacy becomes labor and presence itself turns into an economy of exchange.
HEAVEN’T was conceived during the isolation of the pandemic, when the absence of touch and physical proximity drew me into digital spaces of intimacy. I spent long hours observing models performing for the camera, engaging in an economy where presence itself becomes labor, and attention is the currency exchanged.
At some point it became clear to me that what moved me most was not the erotic surface of these encounters, but the profound desire for someone simply being there. The image transmitted through the webcam began to take on a tactile quality, a substitute for real closeness. The digital frame became physical, the pixels themselves acquiring weight.
The photographs I created during that time capture models in the act of posing, but what interested me most was the tension of observation itself — the awareness that watching is always also an act of appropriation, of claiming what is not ours.
In the performance, I wanted to translate this experience into theatre. The performer, observed in a trance inspired by the practice of webcam streaming, embodies an intimate process of sharing presence. Here, presence is not neutral: it is a commodity, a fragile contract. The performance stages an economy of mutual dependence, where what we give and receive is not money, but something more subtle and binding — time, attention, and the promise of “being with.”
HEAVEN’T was conceived during the isolation of the pandemic, when the absence of touch and physical proximity drew me into digital spaces of intimacy. I spent long hours observing models performing for the camera, engaging in an economy where presence itself becomes labor, and attention is the currency exchanged.
At some point it became clear to me that what moved me most was not the erotic surface of these encounters, but the profound desire for someone simply being there. The image transmitted through the webcam began to take on a tactile quality, a substitute for real closeness. The digital frame became physical, the pixels themselves acquiring weight.
The photographs I created during that time capture models in the act of posing, but what interested me most was the tension of observation itself — the awareness that watching is always also an act of appropriation, of claiming what is not ours.
In the performance, I wanted to translate this experience into theatre. The performer, observed in a trance inspired by the practice of webcam streaming, embodies an intimate process of sharing presence. Here, presence is not neutral: it is a commodity, a fragile contract. The performance stages an economy of mutual dependence, where what we give and receive is not money, but something more subtle and binding — time, attention, and the promise of “being with.”
