La notte ha la forma del grido di un lupo (The Night Has the Shape of a Wolf's Howl)

atelier #2 ––November 2026
{residencies + atelier}

A nocturnal encounter, a non-straight temporality that thickens, returns, deviates — expands, gets lost. Between waking and sleep, fear and desire, we sink into the night, a material to inhabit, devour and displace elsewhere. Accompanying them are the words of Monique Wittig and Sande Zeig in Lesbian Peoples: Material for a Dictionary, and a line by Argentine lesbian poet Alejandra Pizarnik, which gives the research its title. 
In the darkness, other cosmologies emerge: packs, hordes, swarms. Two bodies become many, boundaries turn porous, and antennae, hair, feathers, paws, claws, scales and mouths appear. La notte ha la forma del grido di un lupo (The Night Has the Shape of a Wolf's Howl) withdraws from the urgency to move forward, produce, or get somewhere. Here, duration becomes resistance: to last one moment longer than those who want us dead, to endure one more night. 
And in the darkness, as familiar forms lose their contours, to glimpse the glow of other possible worlds. 
 

"La notte ha la forma del grido di un lupo" (The Night Has the Shape of a Wolf's Howl) emerges from a research into time, duration, and the forms emotions take when allowed to expand.
The project takes shape at BASE through a workshop with ten performers, continuing a research path already begun by the artists. Three days of shared practice converge into a three-hour durational performance in which the research continues in front of, and together with, the audience.

atelier #1 –––giugno 2026
{residencies + atelier}

«I was born so much, so much so much so much so much
until my eyes turned to dust
here we live with one hand at our throat»*

We want to work on temporality — on time and duration. We want to experiment with very long temporal formats that inhabit the night, to sink into dark worlds — like the ones we are living through, but displaced elsewhere. To sleep, to go out, to displace time.
We carry certain words, with us: by Alejandra Pizarnik, Monique Wittig, Anne Carson, Layla Martínez, Shelley Jackson. And at the deepest point of darkness, we imagine glimmers of other worlds, other cosmologies opening up — with Wittig and Zeig's Lesbian Peoples: Material for a Dictionary, we set a nocturnal meeting place for populations of mares, she-wolves, lionesses, marmots, and serpents. Packs, hordes, swarms. In the night, on the bodies of lovers, antennae sprout, along with hair, fur, feathers, legs, claws, beards, scales, clitorises, mouths.

For us, duration has to do with resistance, with persistence. To last one moment longer, to resist one more night.
We imagine a workshop-space, an atelier of research and inquiry, an immersion in practices.

«of the night I know little / but the night seems to know much of me / perhaps the night is nothing, and nothing our conjectures, and nothing the beings who live it / but it happens that I hear the night weeping in my bones / one day we will return to being.»*

*Alexandra Pizarnik, La figlia dell’insonnia