An Interview with Animistic Beliefs & Jeisson Drenth

As I sit down to discuss their new audio-visual live show Thức Tỉnh (Awaken) with Mar & Linh of Animistic Beliefs and Jeisson Drenth, the room is filled with a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation. The show marks a new beginning for all three of them, as they depart from the familiar towards uncharted artistic territories, embracing the exploration of unknown mediums to their hearts desire. The result? A thread of connected stories, unravelling to expose something universal and yet deeply personal. In the wake of their worldwide premiere, the trio embrace vulnerability and the perpetual journey of self-expression. 

We are chatting in the context of your newest collaboration, the audiovisual live show Thức Tỉnh. Can you tell me a bit more about the show, and is there anything you would like to emphasize about the show before the debut?

J: We have been working on projects together since 2019, and with every new step in our collaboration we incorporate new creative disciplines. You could say Thức Tỉnh is the latest step in this organic development. In our latest collaboration we aimed to further develop the audiovisual live show setup. We are now departing from that experience and pushing the format even more by incorporating new creative approaches in the production and performance. I think our individual practices have developed alongside each other, and have finally come together to mold the project into its next iteration. 

L: I think so far in our collaboration, things have grown quite organically. Every time the project grows, it feels like an indication of our growth as individuals as well. Every new discovery finds a way into our work through the conversations we share with each other. As Jeisson mentioned, the evolution of the project has followed our own, changing into different shapes and forms as we do too. This new format allows for an opportunity to explore the things we have always wanted to explore. For Jeisson, that’s music and performance, for Mar and I, it is the making of masks and exploring different forms of performance such as live puppetry and live calligraphy. I think that is the most beautiful part of this show, to keep pushing and exploring yourself and the mediums you use to express that sense of self. 

M: I think it is important for people to know that all of us have stepped away from our areas of expertise and are trying things we have never done before. There’s something particularly special about that.

Wonderful words before the debut. It really seems like the three of you share the curiosity to explore new personal territories with this production. I’m curious how you guys have related to each other in the process of creating the show. Did the creative process involve learning from each other in any way? What did that look like for the three of you? 

M: We never sat down to give each other deliberate masterclasses or anything, but there were plenty of moments where we were together for a week or two, working on our individual practices in a shared space. There was a lot of room to ask questions and be inspired by each other during that time. 

J: I think we did a great deal of preliminary learning through personal agency too, like taking a course in something that we were interested in, or through collaborating with people who are specialists in areas we are curious about. When we come together to share those experiences, the vibe is often more quiet and calm, which is funny because I don’t think that always aligns with who we are individually. We all have these high energy moments of gathering inspiration and knowledge, and then we can come back to this safe space where all that individual work comes together. There’s trust and excitement there, an openness to being surprised by the other.

M: It makes me think of body-doubling, when having someone there while you work helps you with your process. 

L: It is nice to have the feeling that someone is cheering you on too. I guess validation is a good way to describe it. Working with someone that shares your excitement. It gives you the courage to keep going down that path.

What was the research process like behind such a multi-faceted production? Which avenues did your research lead you when you were sketching the outlines for the show?

J: I think the biggest push for research has come through following our personal desires and interests. For example, two years ago I sought out theater pieces from other indigenous people of colour from the Americas as a source of both conceptual and technical inspiration. I was inspired by three productions in particular, Antigone in the Amazon, Exotica, and Bocas del Oro which all center retellings of stories about forest preservation, indigenous sovereignty, identity, history and future. The format for the surtitles in Thức Tỉnh is heavily inspired by these productions. 

M: Similarly, in the past two years, Linh and I have been visiting Indonesia and Vietnam which has brought us a lot of inspiration. Talking to people, seeing shows and meeting other musicians has become a form of research in itself. In a sense, I feel like we are researching all day everyday, just by being there. 

Although your experiences bear similarities, all three of you carry different and unique personal stories. How did you make space for grounding and connecting each of these narratives in the show? 

L: Earlier in the creation process, we had brainstorm sessions to discuss themes we were interested in. Later on, we identified connecting lines between these themes and developed a structure for the show from there. What worked best was if each of us had individual scenes as well as scenes together. So for everyone, there is one scene where they are the main lead, and then overlapping scenes where we come into each other’s stories to help in translating or expressing that story. The ending sequence which is a fast paced rave scene is imagined as a way for all of these stories to come to a climax together. 

M: The show has ended up as a collection of personal short stories that are tied together visually and musically. 

J: An interesting connecting line for me is that we are all Dutch. That is quite unique in my life as I don’t have many Dutch friends anymore. A few years ago, I realized that being in such a non-Dutch environment was disconnecting me from certain attachments like to the ground beneath my feet, the city and the communities around me. I began connecting to this Dutch side I had abandoned over the years. Now, I increasingly value the relationships I have that are Dutch. I think the three of us coming together affirms that sense of belonging, specifically because we are all Dutch bi-cultural people of colour. The show works in that same way too, as an affirming and grounding space to explore these attachments and make the culture our own.  

With Thức Tỉnh, you are producing in a new, perhaps unfamiliar context. What new opportunities could you say the stage has offered for storytelling that you perhaps felt were lacking in the club, festival or exhibition space? 

J: Our key drive when we do more dance oriented shows is to open people up to release and have cathartic experiences, whereas in this new setup we’re more so trying to suck people into a space of contemplation. The arrangement and pace allows for less distractions and a deeper connection to what is unfolding on stage. We would also love to experiment with playing this show in different settings, like in a foyer or a warehouse or even outside. It feels less confined to spatial expectations and that allows us to have more freedom in how we want to arrange the experience.

Speaking of new contexts, this production includes traditional instruments that reflect your ancestral heritage. I wonder if you guys felt some kind of urgency in including these instruments in the show, and whether or not you felt the need to do these instruments justice? 

M: I did definitely feel an urgency, but that urgency came naturally. It came from my own personal desire to use and play these instruments, not because I wanted people to listen to them. At first, I was worried about not being able to play them correctly because I’m not a master of these instruments––same goes for the dancing––but I had to let go of that. I think that ties into one of the underlying themes of this show for me. This idea that I am myself and yet that self is made up of so many differences, the crossing of so many different paths, that ultimately create this whole that is unique to me. We are really allowing ourselves to express these connections in our own way because it reflects our individual experiences. It really creates something new and special. 

Alongside the sound, what role do the visuals play in Thức Tỉnh? How did you imagine the visuals for the show, what kind of visual technologies are you working with in this production?

J: The background visuals in the show play a role in transporting us to the places that feel special, but that we can’t always visit when we want to. For Thức Tỉnh, I am using a mix of found footage and 3D landscapes I made using the software Unreal Engine to create settings to immerse myself and my story in. Although the worlds I create help me find a place to dream towards, I also don’t want to glorify technological innovation. In the future I hope to use more physical drawings or stage design only. 

M: I experimented with making masks to use during my performance. The masks are inspired by nightmares that I’ve had. When I was creating them I had the image of a demon in mind. The shells that I’m wearing are part of the traditional Moluccan warrior attire. I’m also wearing this fabric called Ikat, which is made out of dyed pieces of thread woven together into intricate patterns. These visuals are a representation of my Mollucan heritage.

L: For my scenes, we open with live calligraphy where I come on stage with a mask similar to Mar’s, also a representation of my inner demons. I will be using big movements to write live calligraphy on an 11 meter long scroll, touching on themes that are important for my journey towards personal growth and self-acceptance. As I gradually go through these words I will start to shed the demon attire, and as I finish writing I will take the mask off and walk away as myself. 

Another visually dense scene that is really important to me is the puppetry scene. I worked closely with two artist friends Ratri Notosudirdjo and Magdalena Petrova to create a scene inspired by Vietnamese water puppetry. In these shows, there’s usually live music and narration on the side. As I narrate the scene, they will be doing live shadow puppetry projected onto this fan sculpture they have created. This entire part is an abstraction of my family’s and personal story.

One aspect you explore in the production involves your experience of the often painful communication gap experienced between yourself and your parents. You speak of how art has allowed for moments of bridging that gap, of seeking some kind of reconciliation. Could you tell me a bit more about how you work with these themes in Thức Tỉnh?

L: I wrote a text dealing with these themes that I will be reading during the shadow puppetry scene. It’s based on a text message my dad sent me, where he apologised for not knowing how to make me happy as his version of happy looks very different to mine. That this difference has been the catalyst for disconnection between the two of us. That conversation got cut off, so I am using this opportunity as a continuation, to say the things I wish I could’ve said in that moment. It will also be the first time he will actually get to hear it. 

When it comes to my art, I make things as a form of expression, without having to put a word to those feelings. Art allows me to express certain feelings that are there but that haven’t quite surfaced for me. Instead, it comes out in a certain shape or sound, and only later I find the words to describe those feelings. Expressing myself in this way has given me space to share my personal stories and connect with other people that relate to my work. Hearing other people’s stories and continuing the conversation is something I find super important when it comes to these kinds of painful emotions. 

M: I feel similarly. I come from a musical background so I usually do not really use text––it comes more from a feeling. But I did notice that when I was exploring themes for this show, I have slowly been putting words to those feelings and started having more conversations about it. Growing up between two cultures can be a bit traumatic because your parents do not know how to prepare you for that reality since they have never had that experience themselves. I had plenty of pretty tough talks about that with my parents as an outcome of working on this production. 

J: We are all making autobiographical work in that sense. For Thức Tỉnh, I am bringing the work even closer to myself, and will be performing in Spanish. I decided that instead of rendering my words intelligible to everybody, I will express them in the way that I want. In a sense, I am creating a communication gap, but in doing so, reaching closer to myself. Focusing on expression rather than reaction is more liberating to me.

When thinking about the reception of this project, do you have any particular hopes or wishes for how it will translate to the audience? What kind of expectations do you harbour from yourself and others before the debut? 

M: I hope that we can inspire others with our stories, and show them that their stories matter too. I also hope the show highlights that there is room for stories like ours in cultural institutes. That it does not have to be a white classical musician playing to garner an audience and be regarded as legitimate. 

L: I am most curious to hear what kind of thoughts spark up in others after seeing a show like this. What kind of conversations take place? What other stories follow? I want to continue to affirm to people that their experiences are shared, that they are not alone and that although these subjects can be painful, we must hold space for them. To share collectively is a big part of it for me.  

J: I am celebrating all the things I’ve learned over these years, and they’re culminating in this new piece. At the same time, it also feels like the beginning of a new chapter because I’m exploring things I never have before. I am playing a song from Zelda on piano, not knowing how to read notes, on the mainstage of Muziekgebouw. It’s a bit crazy if you think about it, but I’m not doing it to prove myself. I hope a take away for people is that they are allowed to try new things, that they can also just go for things they have always wanted to try. 

L: Indeed, sometimes I feel that there is this expectation that something you present needs to be perfect and finished. It is not about perfecting the skill but about telling your story and using whatever medium you want as a tool for that. Everything you do is just one step further in the path you are taking. People can follow that process, see it change and evolve and that is beautiful in itself. There is no such thing as a finished product. I hope people can take that away from this show. 

 

Thức Tỉnh by Animistic Beliefs and Jeisson Drenth will premiere on January 10th, 2025 during FIBER x The Rest is Noise. More information can be found here.