Graz Oper auf Eis. Klang in Bewegung

STADION LIEBENAU – Halle A, Graz AT

01.03 2026 – 16:30

open workshop presentation (free entry)

03.03 2026 – 14:00

final presentation Pay-as-you-can (5/10/20)

Contact for further details:

zeit.schleife.kunst@gmail.com

We Are Still and Time Moves Through Us ist ein interdisziplinäres Performanceprojekt, das zeitgenössische Komposition, Eiskunstlauf, Literatur sowie Echtzeit-Klangverarbeitung in einer Eisarena zusammenführt.

Die Bewegungen der Eiskunstläufer:innen werden mithilfe von Bewegungssensoren unmittelbar in musikalische Prozesse übersetzt und eröffnen neue Möglichkeiten für interaktive Live-Musik sowie bewegungsbasierte Performanceformate.

We Are Still and Time Moves Through Us is an interdisciplinary performance project that brings together contemporary composition, figure skating, literary arts, and real-time sound processing in an ice arena.

Figure skating movement is translated directly into musical processes through the use of movement sensors, opening new possibilities for interactive live music and movement-based performance.

This project is the first step in an ongoing artistic collaboration between artists of several disciplines, including composition, musical performance, poetry, and figure skating. The performance will present the result of several months of collaboratory preparatory artistic work followed by a several day intensive creative working process. This project will be open to the public twice in the next couple of days

01.03 – Version 1, a sort of “open dress rehearsal/workshop”, where we will present the project in full

03.03 – Version 2, we will polish the project further and present it a second time

Figure Skaters

Composers

Musician

Helēna Sorokina (LAT/AUT)

.sketchy_een{fill:#111918;}

Choreography

Stina Martini (AUT)

Text/Dramaturgy

Elee Kraljii Gardiner (CAN)

Recording Engineer

Benedikt Alphart (AUT)

Software/Hardware

WE ARE STILL AND TIME MOVES THROUGH US

Today The Windows Are Covered in Feelings

Today the windows are covered in feelings

thick as curtains blocking morning light.

The clock chimes and we turn

to move within the standard minute. We turn

down the volume on the internal hour

and welcome the metronome

into the living room where we rarely turn

it loose with more than one drink.

What is it to rework time? To begin again and again

doubling and fizzing like vision in reckless dawn?

If we hold the clock against our ribs

can we synchronize?

Now the wet rhythm on the window becomes the pace.

What if everything is time to the human mind

even water?

(if I) jar the ocean (can I trap time?)

orcas slice their comma shadows close

to seals and salmon

waterfalls stripe white lines 

through the mountain’s skirt of green and fallen pine

threads of froth course a part in the scalp of the forest

clouds settling a conversation with breath

clouds softening inside the clock

an hour pulses, floods the minute

five years, two months, and seven days ago

we pushed the book underwater 

rippling time in silver speed under the covers

and we called it a clock

shift and lag

a waterlog of time

we watch the underwater clock

to prove it is changing 

and therefore 

so are we

this submerged story is a fish 

curling, turning and breathing

a lung of time

fern-like algaes float free from the pages

edges deckled in bubbles of historic air 

albumen ribbons in the water

words recompose, gerunding time 

cover sloughs

wrinkled old skin

bull kelp bones, barnacle bones, abalone bones

the water a little cloudy, greasy

mould blooms a foamy pulp of syllables 

inside this water is a city 

and inside the city a building

inside the building 

the story listens 

sometimes a long yellow tongue

sometimes none

it nuns in the aquarium of silence 

as only patience can

sunbeam in a cell

a cell phone on the beach

a shell on the beam

someone pulling mussels from the mud

eons-old action repeated

muscle memory folded into timelapse

water tinged saffron with the sweat of words 

browned and yellowed scales peeling

a water story is a quiet timepiece

our impatience lifts the skin to read

a dream in baleen

hold a sieve to an ear to filter sounds

softly drop dream words onto the carpet 

on the sonic-soaked surface

shrieks and horns in engine pass

crash against the humpback’s song

years later, still here

years ago, arriving now 

below the surge of tide, the chop and wash 

a whale’s deep current call 

travels low along the flow 

where faster water glides

slick and smoothly around the gyre 

the moaning song takes a day to sing

becomes slow in tone as it roams to home

grind, click, glitch

each night I count my teeth and put them to bed 

with a kiss from the tip of the tongue 

the brushing the touching the speaking the chewing 

a grinding routine

a calcium clock each granite top

bite the wrist and watch

the white semi-circle fill in a pink minute

how I write the day forward and erase it

(rewrite it)

write the day forward and erase it

(rewrite it)

write the day forward to replace it

(rewrite it) 

here is the trick 

for being two places at once:

wait for the clock to click 

and glitch

then dive 

with a pillow

not killing time 

so much 

as suffocating it 

wait for the day then rewrite it 

and erase it with a swallow

no voice

you are running towards the sound

ripening and falling from the hour

wet hex

writing wet words on your forehead

consonants clutch between eyebrows

evaporation works itself into the poem— 

salting a sluggish hour 

as it slides around the plate of the day

streaming

five years, two months, and seven days 

a line of white water fell through green

the span of the breath 

the gill of the tree

a root in the cloud

push the blade against 

the skin of the pale apple moment

peeling the spiral of now

Related Work:

https://www.alyssa-aska.com/figure-skating-project