On Puppets
Puppets are, at first, nothing more than assembled materials. Yet in the hands of a puppeteer or an animator, they begin to breathe, to move, and to develop a life of their own. Often, they show how they wish to be guided, sometimes bolder and more daring than their human counterpart would ever allow themselves to be.
Puppets have the capacity to cross boundaries that people alone often cannot. I recall a performance in a workshop for people with disabilities: while some residents showed little interest in the colorful performers, the moment a Harlequin puppet approached, the barrier dissolved. Residents who usually avoided physical contact came forward on their own, to speak to the puppet or embrace it.
A similar moment occurred with an elderly woman, nearly a hundred years old and completely blind. With careful fingers, she explored the puppet’s face, as if in that tactile encounter a new dialogue opened.
It is unfortunate that puppetry is so often dismissed as “just for children,” or overshadowed by the question: Do you also perform real theatre? Yet experiences like these reveal the depth and significance of puppets—objects that, through play and presence, connect where words or appearances fail.
For me, puppetry is not a lesser form of theatre, but a unique art that makes the invisible tangible and gives voice to what would otherwise remain unheard.
The Ash Bird
The Ash Bird emerged from a dream during a time of loss and upheaval. After a studio fire had taken both my home and my creative space, I found myself in a dark and fragile state. In that period, a seemingly simple dream appeared: three bird-like figures, part human, part bird, standing together—a large one, a medium, and a small one. They called themselves “The Ash Birds.” The world around them was like a timeless silhouette, a shadowed stage suspended between night and day.
This figure is the first of the three and became one of the first figures I built once I had a home again, a tangible sign of recovery and return to creation. One day, I may bring another to life as a stilted sculpture, extending their presence into the physical world. Though the dream held no narrative, it left me unexpectedly renewed, with a quiet sense of hope stirring for the first time in weeks.
