Antrianna Moutoula: nonstop language in art and academia

In 2012, Antrianna Moutoula moved from Greece to the Netherlands. After obtaining a Bachelor's degree in Fine Art at Gerrit Rietveld Academie, she started the Master Performance Practices programme at ArtEZ. She is graduating with a performance of nonstop language: for 45 minutes, she talks and writes continuously. 

“I had been doing performance already, but I wanted to be in a place where everyone had the same things in common. Although many different disciplines come together in the Master's – like dance, opera, theatre and fine arts – it provided a place where I could look at my work very specifically from the side of performance. It was important for me to be in an environment where performance was the starting point. And the course proved to be very rewarding, in that sense, but also in terms of work, theory and mentors."

“The Performance Practices programme was intense but amazing. I notice a difference in the way I am making performances. Before, I would develop an idea in my mind or on paper, and then I would work towards the moment of performance, just doing it. Entering the Master's, I started sticking to one thing – the nonstop talking and writing – and I stayed with it for two years. I realised that I developed a practice for myself. This commitment really helped me to delve deeper into it.”

Nonstop language: taking a plunge into the unknown

Antrianna's graduation work is an autotheoretical performance lecture: for the entire duration of her performance, 45 minutes, she is simultaneously writing and talking nonstop. How did she get this idea? “Before, I would hardly ever perform solo. But in the first year of the course, we got all kinds of assignments, like ‘do something in ten minutes – go go go!’ Especially in the first year, this is characteristic: there is not much time to think. You just do something, and then you talk about it afterwards. I really had to develop my ability to do this. In the first year, I did a performance in which I was talking continuously. It wasn't yet nonstop, but I felt there was something there for me. Later, I did a performance running and talking, trying to add more things. But after practising it, I understood it was enough to simply go nonstop, either writing or talking. For my graduation, I wanted to be challenged again – through practising writing and talking separately for a year, I was getting kind of comfortable with it.

She started looking for the challenge, trying many different versions of her performance. “I did it online: for four hours, for five minutes – while running, while cleaning my house, having an audience listening to me. Through practising it and returning to it in different formats, I got more interested in what was already there in a very minimal format. A table, a laptop, me just typing there, my screen projected on the wall. The technicians were confused. They'd ask me, "So you don't have any sound?" and I'd say no. "So you don't have any visuals?" and I'd say no. She laughs. “It is a bit low-tech, but these are usually the works that really get me by surprise, that I really enjoy seeing. Not that there is nothing to the rest: spectacular things are also amazing. But I feel there is something there for me.”

But what is it that is there? What exactly happens when she is on stage? “I am always performing in the context of the presence – or potential presence – of another person. In that way, I am entering a situation where something is unknown or at risk. It is like going into the unknown: moving towards something that wouldn't be there without encountering an audience member, which I therefore call a ‘necessary other'. Something happens that I cannot do by myself. When I am performing, there is always something to discover for me – because every time is different. I always set a task, or I make a specific decision. This is not always visible to the audience, but I make sure that I expose myself to a small situation of discomfort, of not knowing.”

Making the personal critical, being surprised by your own thoughts

“What is important for me is that I enter a situation in which I am not the one who knows everything, presenting to an audience that does not know. Instead, we are simultaneously witnessing my thoughts unfold. This is something very personal: my own thoughts on that very moment.” Of course, there are stages: at the beginning of Antrianna's performance, things are more controlled. But throughout the 45 minutes, she is saying things she did not think of beforehand. “I am exposing the personal – or trying to make the personal critical. This is a step for me. To work with the personal in order to create theory, or (re)moving the slash between personal and theory.”

Isn't that scary sometimes? “It is! There are moments before a performance when I am asking myself, "why am I doing this? This is so stressful!" But when it starts, I know the reason. It's the encounter with an audience – this kind of freefall in seconds, in moments, in positions of encountering and raising discomfort – that is the most rewarding part for me. I want to remove scripts and plans, and to be open to whatever the encounter offers. For a long time, my audience was classmates, colleagues, and tutors. We have been organising moments for sharing work and giving each other feedback. And of course, there is an ethical part there – I cannot say everything. My thoughts are there as they are, and I am very often surprised by them. I want to unfilter, but I think I still have an ethical limit there. How much does it offend someone who is in the room? How will it affect life afterwards?”

Does this mean she is also monitoring people's reactions to her words? “I noticed that when I was really paying attention to people's reactions, I started trying to amuse them. Because of course, there is a humorous element in what comes out. When I hear laughing as a performer, I want to make it continue – but then the focus would shift to how to entertain. I realised that I did not want that. So, towards my final performance, I tried to develop a way of listening that did not have to do with me looking at them, because looking was making the performance snag on a superficial level instead of moving further.”

What does being an artist mean to her? “Being an art student and being an artist are slightly different positions, I think. I have spent more years being an art student, so I still have to figure out what is means to be an artist in years to come. What I find important is that my work informs my life – the two are interrelated. Nonstop languaging is a way of both experiencing my life and reflecting on it; living it and commenting on it at the same time. It is a way of processing the world, the reality of everydayness. Negotiating things that are important in art, but also outside of it: how language is used, for example. Something like that goes beyond my artistic work. Being an artist is a way of being in the world and a mode of thinking.”

Future plans

On the question of whether Antrianna plans to continue her practice after graduating, her answer is positive. “I would like to bring nonstop language to new audiences and apply it to various places. I would also like to perform it in different ways. For me, a big part of graduating is combining the theoretical production of knowledge with the autobiographical. I want to see how that lands outside, and whether it will still be so important to me – to see what happens when I encounter audiences that are differently informed. What will I be talking about when the audience is more anonymous to me?”

“I really want to stay committed to my work. I feel like it is my practice, which is the biggest surprise for me. Saying this, when two years ago I had a very different understanding of what practice is or of what I am doing.” She laughs. “I want to experience what it is to be an autonomous artist. I've always had a part-time job in a restaurant, which is a very interesting space to learn about human interaction, by the way. In the future, I want to see if I can leave that safety behind and survive as an artist. To take that risk in life, and see what it does for me and my work.”

More information

Visit Antrianna’s website to discover more about her and her work – and learn all about her research project at her project website.

Classmate and collaborator: Ella Tighe
Supervisor: Dr João da Silva
External mentors: Emma Cocker, Jeanine Durning