Kineo | Ayşe Draz

Stage at the Museum as a Site of Live Encounter

Stage at the Museum as a Site of Live Encounter

At the end of last summer, between September 4–7, 2025, we presented the ninth edition of Stage at the Museum (Müzede Sahne) at Sakıp Sabancı Museum, with the support of the Sabancı Foundation, my third year as artistic director. When the museum team and management who had pioneered Stage at the Museum’ inception invited me to take on the role, the event had already completed its sixth year; moreover, I had previously participated in the program under the artistic direction of Emre Koyuncuoğlu as a contributing artist with Tiyatro Hemhal collective. In the years led by Emre—one of the founders of Yeşil Üzümler, a group that embraced an interdisciplinary approach from its early works and held a significant place in the performance scene of the 1990s—the program’s inclusion of works from theater and dance, its public conversations, as well as Emre’s own performances such as Punta Atmak, which entered into dialogue with Kuzgun Acar’s sculptures, and Y’OL, adapted from Birhan Keskin’s poetry, laid the groundwork for Müzede Sahne’s interdisciplinary spirit. Moreover, Sakıp Sabancı Museum had proven itself to be an institution that opens space for performance not only during Stage at the Museum but also through its general programming policy; it has hosted exhibitions by artists like Sophie Calle—who uses performance as a medium and narrative tool—and Marina Abramović, known as “the mother of performance art.” Today, the museum continues this trajectory with an exhibition by Suzanne Lacy, one of the leading figures of performative and participatory art.

Although my background is in theater, I believe that an interdisciplinary approach and the permeability between boundaries create an immensely fertile ground for artistic production. I constantly question how the notion of “the stage” can be defined, and argue that a stage need not always be something constructed through separation; when a critical distance is established, moments and spaces within everyday life can also be transformed into stages through performative or theatrical interventions. In recent years, following this line of thought, I have come to define myself and my practice as “a performance-maker with a fluid identity”. Unfortunately, given the limited conditions and resources in Turkey, artists can occasionally create interdisciplinary production environments—as they did in the 1990s—but in recent years performance art and theater have tended to retreat into their own categorical domains. I would somewhat set dance apart here, since by its very nature, with the body as its primary material, it continues to move fluidly between both fields. Globally, however, we see that rather than rejecting one another, these fields have reconnected under the umbrella of Live Art—nourishing each other, in continuous dialogue. These convergences reopen a space of vitality where the permeability between life and stage is remembered anew. Before speaking about this year’s edition—which, to me, has felt the most coherent and complete so far—I would like to briefly share the thoughts that were running through my mind when I first received the invitation in 2023 to take on the artistic direction of Stage at the Museum.

I think I set out with a few questions; one of them was why performance in museums has become so visible in recent years. I wondered whether this was merely a trend or a sign of a deeper transformation, one that compels the museum, as an institution, to rethink itself. Of course, this wave is not unique to us. In recent years, for example, the Venice Biennale has seen many national pavilions entrusted to directors, choreographers, and performance artists. This tendency suggests that performance is being embraced not merely as a form of expression but also as a curatorial mode of thinking. In 2017, Anne Imhof designed the German Pavilion with her performance installation Faust, which won the Golden Lion; in 2024, Germany was represented by theater director Ersan Mondtag. In 2026, Austria will be represented by the provocative choreographer Florentine Holzinger, Belgium by performance artist Miet Warlop—known for her absurd humor—and the Netherlands by Dries Verhoeven, a theater director and performance artist whose participatory and political works stand out. Moreover, the relationship that international institutions—particularly those engaging with performance and the performing arts—establish with these practices transforms not only their programming but also the processes of collecting, conserving, and documenting. For instance, Tate in the UK has been conducting long-term research addressing, both conceptually and practically, the challenges of integrating performance into museum collections and ensuring its sustainability - sharing the outcomes publicly. Such research compels art institutions to confront fundamental questions anew: what can be owned and sold, how can it be preserved and transmitted, and for whom do these works exist? But I won’t delve too far into this, as I risk rambling—after all, I completed my PhD on documentation in performance art.

At that point, I remember asking myself: could the program I envision offer new approaches through the memory of the space, the position of the body within the museum, and the relationship established with the audience? Could I expand the existing interdisciplinary spirit through the axes of spatial engagement, publicness, and participation? Could I ensure that the museum—at least its garden—transformed into a living organism, a shared stage where different disciplines, bodies, and audience experiences converge, perhaps even co-created together? I recalled the distinction between “mediated/unmediated arts” made by Semih Fırıncıoğlu^[1], an artist I always take great pleasure in collaborating with. This distinction became particularly formative for me when reflecting on the relationship between the museum and performance. Within the museum—an environment that typically produces a mediated mode of reception through recorded or object-based works—how could I make possible unmediated encounters through performances (whether theatrical, dance-based, or sonic) in which production and reception happen simultaneously, continuously shaping one another? Stage at the Museum could, at precisely this point, conceive time as a process co-created rather than consumed —repositioning encounters not as mere event but as a shared practice of time-making.

The first year’s theme, Always Side by Side (Hep Yan Yana), which we developed together with the museum team, became a shared beginning that allowed us to get to know one another and for me to understand the museum as a stage. Exploring the possibilities and limitations of the main stage on the Fıstıklı Terrace, getting to know the museum’s potential audience, and observing the dynamics of the open-air spaces in the garden were invaluable to me. I wanted to shape the program in consideration of both the space that hosts the performances and the audience I imagined to encounter. From the very beginning, the museum team also emphasized that they valued creating space through this event for young artists working in the performing arts. In my approach, however, Stage at the Museum should not only activate spaces outside exhibition halls with performances but, guided by its annual theme, go beyond presenting a seasonal selection and instead design a distinctive space of viewing and experience for its audience.

Before moving on to this year’s theme and program, I would like to pause for a moment to share some other thoughts. What has always been crucial for me is that as performance enters the museum, the museum simultaneously steps into the field of performance. This process not only blurs the line between stage and spectator but transforms the audience’s body from a passive observer into a co-active element positioned within the flow of the unfolding event. This recalls Erika Fischer-Lichte’s notion of “autopoietic feedback loop,” a process in which performers and spectators share the same time and space, transforming each other’s perception—and even action—so that the “work” ceases to exist as an object and instead becomes an event, an encounter. I believe one of the dynamics behind the growing visibility of performance in museums lies in this very transformation. Often referred to as the “performative turn,” this marks the shift from object to event, from passive spectatorship to participation. As museums increasingly incorporate live art into their programs, new communities emerge—visitors who come not only to view collections but to engage in shared experiences. As Claire Bishop discusses, this participatory, co-creative understanding transforms the museum from a site of display into a living, breathing space of encounter. In short, the visibility of performance in museums stems not only from a search for diversity but from a deeper transformation in both institutional approach and audience experience. In this sense, I always prefer to use the Turkish word seyirci (spectator) in its fuller meaning—someone who “embarks on a shared journey of seeing”—rather than simply “viewer”. Each edition of Stage at the Museum, as a local echo of this transformation, is nourished by my desire to turn the museum space into a living organism.

Before arriving at this year’s edition, I should mention the 2024 edition—my second term as artistic director—when I chose the theme Eyes Hear, Ears See (Gözler Duyar, Kulaklar Görür). I wanted to emphasize that the performing arts awaken not only the visual but multiple senses, especially the auditory. Conceived as a space where we could look, think, listen, and even dance together (through the Silent Disco), that edition focused on inter-sensory translation, exploring the permeability between seeing and hearing, hearing and imagining. The performances we presented, as well as workshops on soundscape by sound alchemist Dr. Oğuz Öner, emerged from this approach. Transforming the museum’s garden, terrace, and courtyard into different stages, we invited audiences to hear the music within the visual and to see the visuality stirred by sound—through interactive sound installations made with found-object instruments, and a silent disco experienced through headphones. The weekends, filled with a festive, almost carnival-like energy—where even babies and children also participated bodily—were another aspect I had long dreamed of. By the end of that edition, Stage at the Museum was no longer merely a series of performances but a multisensory, participatory mode of experience.

When determining the theme for 2025, Encounters and Beyond (Karşılaşmalar ve Ötesi), I was deeply nourished by the multi-sensory and participatory experience of the previous year. I believe that by now the trajectory I have been following must be clear. While Eyes Hear, Ears See explored inter-sensory permeability, this year I took that permeability one step further by placing “encounter” at the center—both as a formal and conceptual axis. For me, the performing arts, and theater in particular, are not merely narrative forms but, like many other artistic disciplines, forms that think about themselves on a meta level. Beyond storytelling, theater interrogates representation itself—it investigates not only what we tell, but how we tell it. In this year’s program, alongside the main stage performances Tomorrow’s Parties (Yarın Belki de) and L’Addition, I wanted to encourage especially young theater-makers—who have been skillfully staging stories rooted in our own geography—to also reflect on the form, structure, and audience relationship of their works. With Encounters and Beyond, I sought to expand this intellectual ground—to bring to the stage questions about how theater and live arts define themselves, what functions they assume, and what forms of relationships they propose. My belief in the transformative potential of interdisciplinary practices and collaborations across different artistic fields formed the foundation of this year’s curatorial approach. Accordingly, we realized a long-held dream of the museum team: writer Murat Mahmutyazıcıoğlu and choreographer Gizem Bilgen—known not only for her choreography but for the movement dramaturgies she develops with actors—joined forces to create a site-specific performance for the museum and its collection titled One Day I Watched the Bosphorus from Here (Bir Gün Buradan Boğazı’ı İzledim). We continued expanding the museum’s acoustic memory through The Soundscape of the Atlı Köşk workshop by Dr. Oğuz Öner, a work that already holds a special place in Müzede Sahne’s history. Here, I must mention how exciting it is for me to imagine these accumulated sound maps evolving into an archival resource for the museum’s future. This year, building on last year’s exploration of aural and visual fluidity, we added another sense: smell. In the Encounters with Scents workshop, the Homemade Aromatherapy team collaborated with participants to produce natural fragrances corresponding to the moods of four selected artworks from the museum’s collection. After opening the main stage not with a conventional play but with Tomorrow’s Parties, a live performance featuring two performers rather than presenting characters and plot, we continued with Özlem Zeynep Dinsel’s solo play Girls and Boys (Kızlar ve Oğlanlar), which focuses on the invisible forms of violence against women, particularly domestic violence. I insist on including works that address such urgent issues, because unless we persist, I feel that the social climate pushes us to normalize this violence. During the final two nights, we hosted our first international encounter on the main stage: L’Addition by the duo Bert & Nasi, a performance I first saw at the Avignon Theatre Festival and found profoundly moving in its simplicity. Through an absurd confrontation between a waiter and a customer, the performance created a powerful and physical moment of encounter—sharing with the audience profound reflections on life and existence. Bringing this piece to Istanbul was particularly meaningful for me, as it offered inspiration for young theater-makers and exemplified a beautiful example of intergenerational solidarity in its production journey. In this same spirit, we reserved a special invitation quota for theater students for both performances. Over the weekend, we also made sure not to forget our younger audiences, children, with Atta Festival’s Pezzettino and the object theater Three-in-One Shakespeare, which humorously summarized three Shakespeare plays using kitchen utensils.

This year, three focal points that I intend to carry forward in future editions also took clearer shape: Encounters in the Garden, Encounters in the Foyer, and the post-performance artist talks—all offering interdisciplinary and unconventional performative experiences. Encounters in the Foyer created a reflective space for the audience before performances began, allowing them to focus their attention and engage with the work they were about to see. Academics and dramaturgs Aylin Alıveren and Özlem Hemiş shared insights into the conceptual frameworks behind the plays or the personal and opened up personal and social connections that could be formed with them. I believe this enabled audiences to approach the performances with greater awareness and a more inward resonance. Preparing the Encounters in the Garden selection together with young-generation makers Yasemin Derme and Umut Rışvanlı, and transforming the museum’s garden into a space of meeting, sharing, and play, was also deeply meaningful for me. The performance by İris (Ergül) from the visual arts field, filled the garden with her magnificent masks; Dila (Yumurtacı) turned the garden into a meditative movement space for bodies in nature; the clowns occupied the garden with spontaneous play; a large-scale play reading unfolded outdoors; and Yunus Emre Şahin’s performance centered on seeing, slowing down, walking, and remembering; all of these invited audiences beyond their habitual sensory and mental patterns, reminding me again how well bodies and dance belong to this garden and how deep we need this. I’ve already begun thinking along these lines for next year’s edition. This year’s Encounters in the Garden became not only a platform for performances but also a rehearsal ground where new ways of thinking and creating together could emerge; each performance added a new layer to the museum’s living memory through its relationship with the audience.

Finally, I should say that I regard Stage at the Museum, which has evolved into a space of vitality where the porous boundary between life and stage is reanimated—where artist and spectator, museum space and time, co-shape one another—not merely as an event or mini-festival but as a research field where curation and dramaturgy intertwine. For me, programming is not simply about making a selection; it is about designing the bodily flow of space, the rhythm of time, and the dramaturgy of perception. Stage at the Museum proposes a structure that resists the conventional separation of stage and audience found in theater; the foyer, the terrace path, the garden clearing, and the stair step—each becomes a potential stage. This transforms the audience’s walking pace, moments of pause, and gaze into integral elements of dramaturgy. Beyond the designated performance space, I ask: how can we reimagine the stage as a site of encounter? How can we construct such encounters without hierarchy, enabling the audience not merely to watch but to position their own bodies within the experience? How can we extend the duration of encounters—through Encounters in the Foyer and post-show talks—beyond the performance itself, proposing new forms of relation? How can we keep the autopoietic feedback loop alive not only during but also before and after the performance?

For me, each encounter left a small vibration in the memory of the space, and as those vibrations multiplied, they became a polyphonic melody. The most meaningful feedback I received about this year’s edition came from an observation^[2] written by Mehmet Kerem Özel, who noted that the program had reached “the ordinary yet curious spectator.” That, to me, was the truest achievement—making this living, participatory field of viewing and experiencing possible.

[^1]

 https://performansfikri.com/03-aracisiz-aracili/

^[2] https://danzon2008.blogspot.com/2025/09/muzede-sahne-2025in-sundugu.html