Martin Sonderkamp is a dance artist who divides his time between Berlin and Stockholm. Since 1993 he has created a variety of artistic work ranging from choreographed and improvised stage works to exhibitions, audio guides and mixed media installations. He enjoys collaborating with diverse artists in the fields of sound art, dance, visual arts and music.

Knowing I will see Ekin Tunceli's work at MDT, I can't help but think of Istanbul, where we met almost fifteen years ago. The sounds of Beyoǧlu, the neighborhood I lived in for six years, resonate in my mind: Honking cabs, the muezzins' jingling chants overlapping with the chatter, laughter and arguments of neighbors, upbeat music and heartfelt cheers from Romani wedding parties from a venue just down the streets from where I lived, the shouts of street vendors, the sirens of cargo ships passing through the Bosphorus strait, snatches of music from nearby dance clubs at midnight, drums announcing the sunrise during Ramadan, the trilling of larches and the cries of seagulls.
As I enter the main stage of the MDT, Halil İbrahim Aygün, Gizem Seçkin, and Diren Ezgi Yıldızkan, the performers of Ekin's work, are already fully attuned to their performance. They are sitting on chairs in a large circle, quietly looking away from us and taking note of our presence. I pick up my teal notebook, fumble with the zipper of my mesh bag to grab a pen and sit quietly. I ponder the work's title, "Earthquake," and think not only of the earthquakes and the deaths that the citizens of Turkey suffered most recently in 2023 due to construction fraud. I also remind myself of the political backslide and threat to the democratic future of Turkish citizens by Erdoǧan and his efforts to establish an autocratic, neo-Ottoman style of government, his rage against the LGBTQ+ community, whose members he accuses of being "deviants" who misuse the Eurovision contest as propaganda for their community.
I remember how it felt when random strangers on the streets of Istanbul felt free to spit and hiss "Ibne" (Turkish for faggot) at my queer friends and me as his political agenda began to reshape public spheres. Amidst these thoughts and memories, I watch the three performers quietly enter the circle. They stand with their backs to us, feet on the floor, and begin to shift their weight from one foot to the other -again and again and again.

Hearthquake

Testing the ground
regaining balance
tremors rise into your legs and guts
and tug at your lungs
to steal gasps of exhaustion
and snatch sighs
as Sisyphus might have breathed them in his insane misery
of dragging a boulder up a hill
only for it to roll down again
when nearing its crest
endlessly

drop
cover
hold on

homes tremble
your bodies find comfort in the beat of your struggle
panting
the sweat of your struggle thickens the room
your movement touches
bodies pulsate with dizzy sensations
under my skin
a heart begins to race

drop
crawl
find better balance
cover
hold on

hands dangle from arms
fingers tug at others
a palm reaches for a back
to hold onto
to rest there
eyes open

despite the crumbling of the earth
you hold your center
you suck in your breath
proud
you hurt
unwilling to give way
you dream
defeat is possible
you budge a little
you hope
or do you not?

EKIN TUNÇELI / HEARTQUAKE

BY MARTIN SONDERKAMP