Your project explores the dynamics between bodies and objects in space. Could you elaborate on how your personal relationships and experiences shaped the narrative and interaction within this project?

Our practice is centered on the idea that space isn’t just a backdrop for interaction—it’s an active part of the interaction itself. Understanding how architectural environments shape identity and emotional experience is crucial to our work. Space has the power to bring people together or create distance, and we’ve observed how these dynamics mirror the complexities of our own relationships. Our sense of proximity, distance, and the way bodies navigate space isn’t purely theoretical—it’s rooted in lived experience, both personally and within the communities we engage with. This lived understanding is what drives us to explore spatial relationships and highlight their potential in our work.

The choreography and movement evoke a unique blend of tension and intimacy. What was your research process for developing this physical language, and how did you approach the relationship between the human body and the sculptures?

The physical language of the project developed organically. We didn’t begin with a rigid choreography; instead, it evolved through research, collaboration, and careful observation. We were particularly drawn to everyday gestures—the small, unconscious movements people make—and explored how those could be transformed into something more expressive.

The sculptures were central to shaping the choreography. We envisioned them as relational objects—playful and ambiguous structures that encouraged new forms of interaction. The performers inhabited and manipulated the cardboard pieces, blurring the boundary between body and sculpture.

In our work, we like to explore the fine line between fiction and reality. There’s a surreal quality to the film, but much of what you see is inspired by real moments we’ve witnessed or experienced. We chose to work with “tableaux vivants” because it allowed us to freeze these moments in time, using the performers' bodies to 'sculpt' the scenes.

Naples, described by Walter Benjamin and Asja Lacis as a “porous” city, plays a central role in your work. What drew you to this city specifically, and how did its cultural and architectural complexity influence the development of your project?

Naples has this constant sense of transformation, like it’s always shifting and adapting. That porosity—both physical and social—really drew us in. The city’s boundaries are fluid, constantly blurring the lines between public and private, inside and outside, visible and invisible. This resistance to clear definitions resonated with the themes we were already exploring—relationships, boundaries, and contradictions.

There’s a persistent tension between tradition and modernity in Naples, and that complexity—whether in its architecture or social fabric—felt like the perfect environment for what we wanted to explore.

L’Asilo embodies this sense of porosity. We were fascinated by how its history as a religious orphanage contrasts with its current role as a social and cultural hub. Working there allowed us to engage directly with these contradictions. Our project evolved in these spaces of conviviality, where things can be both claimed and contested, informal yet structured at the same time.

Southern aesthetics are often romanticized in creative industries. How did you ensure that your representation of Naples went beyond surface-level voyeurism and captured the city's deeper, more nuanced essence?

We were very aware of the risk of romanticizing Naples. It’s easy to view the city from the outside and focus on its beauty without truly engaging with its deeper layers. But Naples is a place we know well, and our work was the result of about two years of research, during which we actively engaged with the local communities.

Our two-month residency at L’Asilo was crucial to this process. Being part of the Neapolitan Commons gave us a direct way to connect with the city. We didn’t come in with fixed ideas—we listened, collaborated, and allowed the community to shape the project with us.

The sculptures we created were inspired by the Neapolitan Smorfia, a traditional book of dream interpretation that weaves together folklore, popular culture, symbols, and dreams. Instead of directly adopting those symbols, we developed our own sculptural and sensory language. The goal was to capture the feeling of truly inhabiting a space, rather than simply observing it from the outside.

Collaboration seems to be at the heart of your project, from working with the local community at L'Asilo to partnering with filmmakers and choreographers. How did these collaborative efforts shape the final outcome of the work, and what challenges did you encounter in merging different artistic disciplines?

Collaboration is at the core of everything we do. Our work is influenced by relational aesthetics, where human connections form the basis of the art. The community at L’Asilo played a crucial role in shaping the project, giving us the space to experiment in real-time with ideas around space, performance, and relationships. When we expanded the project into a film, we brought in filmmaker Simone Bozzelli and choreographer Max Cookward. Their involvement opened up new ways of working, allowing us to explore different media. They both helped us push the potential of narrative and movement even further. The biggest challenge was making all these different elements—sculpture, film, performance—feel cohesive. Each medium is distinct, but we worked hard to ensure they were interconnected and influencing one another. In the end, it was that tension between the forms that gave the project its depth and complexity.

Your project touches on themes of conviviality, intimacy, and the inherent contradictions within human relationships. How do you see these themes evolving in future works, and do you believe there is a resolution to the question, "Why Can’t We Live Together?”

“Why Can’t We Live Together?” isn’t a question we’re trying to definitively answer. It’s more of an ongoing inquiry that keeps us curious. Themes like conviviality, intimacy, and relational dynamics are central to our lives, and we find ourselves returning to them again and again.

Right now, we’re exploring new ideas that engage with these themes in a different context. We’re interested in the potential of spatial storytelling and how a new environment might shift the direction of our work.

As for the question itself, it’s less about arriving at a solution and more about keeping the conversation alive. We want to create spaces where these ideas can be explored, and where new kinds of relationships can take shape. The question remains open, inviting change and fresh interpretations as we move forward.