Movement and meaning

While exploring Italian material culture with Professor Ombretta Frau in the Italian department, we had an opportunity early in the semester to work with Romina De Novellis for “La Settimana della Lingua italiana nel mondo.” I had no idea what to expect. When the time came for this independent study, we were just told to bring one or two objects from our rooms. That was it — no real explanation. I like clear directions, so going into something with little understanding was uncomfortable and, honestly, a bit frustrating at first. But that ended up being the whole point.

Romina is an Italian performance artist who focuses on using the body and audience interaction in her work. She specializes in long, repetitive, anthropological body art that explores social and gender issues. Her performances usually take place in public places and focus on the body’s limits. In the past, that involved her being in a cage, which she mentioned she might not do again.

On the first day, we started by interacting with our objects through movement. Mine were four rocks with drawings on them (a butterfly, a cloud, a rainbow and a bee) and a paper umbrella, all of which came from campus events. At first, they felt random, but I had to just go with it. As we performed, Romina watched like a spectator and, afterward, gave us feedback along with artist references to look at for inspiration.

By the second day, we came back with five sentences describing our movements, now with a better understanding of what we were doing. We also did exercises to get out of our comfort zones: yelling to release tension, moving around the room and practicing eye contact with a partner. That part was definitely my least favorite, but it helped me be more present in the performance.

On the third day, we focused on meaning. We had to connect ourselves to our objects and explain that connection in five sentences, and that’s when my inner conflict really showed up. I’m used to performing as a singer, and it’s a different type of vulnerability. Through songs, I can hide behind the lyrics instead of saying exactly what I mean. I’m still expressing emotions, but not always directly. This type of performance was different. I had to use my own words, my own thoughts and my own emotions. There was no music to fall back on. It was just me, and that wasn’t easy at first.

My piece was built around the rocks and the umbrella. I created a scene where I stood inside a circle of rocks marked with the simple images I mentioned earlier: a cloud, a rainbow, a butterfly and a bee. I moved the umbrella around my body, and instead of it protecting just me, I turned it outward to protect the space around me.

As I reflected on it, I realized how personal it was becoming. Growing up as the oldest sister in a single-parent home, I took on a caregiving role. The images on the rocks connected to childhood memories with my siblings — things like chasing butterflies or watching rainbows. The umbrella became a symbol of protection, not just for myself, but for those memories and for my brothers.

At the end, we had to distill everything — movement and meaning — into just two sentences. That was probably the hardest part, but it made me really think about what I was trying to say.

Looking back, what started as confusion turned into a really meaningful experience. It pushed me out of my comfort zone and made me trust myself more, even when I didn’t fully understand what I was doing at first.

If I were explaining this to a friend, I’d say it was uncomfortable in the beginning, but worth it. Honestly, it felt like a good side plot — one of those unexpected experiences that ends up meaning more than you thought. (And, I mean, I basically met a famous person, so I feel like that counts too.)

Romina was such a good person to work with. She really allows you to figure things out on your own while also trying to get more out of you — more ideas, passion, etc. She really is a joyful person. Her laughter filled the room, and she wasn’t shy. She shares strong opinions, forcing you to advocate your own ideas and vision, and she wants you to be confident and clear on those ideas. What struck me about Romina’s work was her ability to continue standing or sitting for more than eight hours. She doesn’t drink before a performance, so she doesn’t need a break to use the bathroom. I also like how Romina’s projects are never a direct hit on social issues; they usually require some thought to really assess and understand. As she said, she’s an anthropologist and a performer.