Judith Butler defines queerness not merely as an identity, but as a bodily practice in which norms are repeated and, in the very act of repetition, disrupted—creating new meanings. For Butler, queerness is a utopia that leaks into the present. It is not only a theoretical proposition; it is the body slipping out of its habitual order, becoming a space of fractures, deviations, and unexpected movements.
On the evening of September 24, as part of Istanbul Fringe Festival 2025 at ENKA Auditorium, Valse, Valse, Valse brought Butler’s vision of rupture to the stage. Beginning with the graceful repetitions of the classical waltz, the choreography soon collapsed in on itself—disintegrating, scattering, and transforming into movements of entirely different forms. These shifts, which hypnotized the audience, were not merely aesthetic choices; they embodied a politics of resistance against gender norms inscribed onto the body. The binary order of the waltz—male and female in fixed pairs—was dismantled, giving way to same-gender couplings, unexpected gestures, and broken rhythms that opened space for alternative ways of relating.
The music reinforced this political rupture. Emerging from Strauss’s classical waltzes, the soundscape eventually fractured into atonal interruptions; strings were used percussively, melodies collapsed. In those moments, dancers lost their balance, swayed with dizziness, and staggered as if intoxicated. For the audience, order and harmony gave way to cracks, skips, and playful distortions. What unfolded on stage was not simply a choreographic structure, but the undoing of norms, rules, and the very perception of spectatorship.
Slips in rhythm, mutual corrections, and moments of catching one another became central to the piece. Failure, clumsiness, the act of falling short—here, they were transformed into a deliberate aesthetic strategy.
The pastel tones of the costumes fed into the work’s childlike yet grotesque atmosphere. In the gum scene—where chewing gum stretches, sticks, and passes between performers—a banal, almost childish gesture became one of the central images of the performance. As the piece unfolded, colors gradually darkened until black and white dominated the stage, shaping a more severe tone. This was not only a visual contrast but also a dramaturgical transition—from the lightness of the waltz into rupture and gravity.
Valse, Valse, Valse offers its audience more than a dance performance. Every turn, every stumble, every fracture is a reminder that social norms, too, can be broken. It demonstrates that the aesthetic and the political can exist on stage not only simultaneously, but in ways that amplify one another.
To dive deeper into the ideas behind the piece, I spoke with Johanna Heusser, the choreographer and artistic director of Valse Valse Valse. Here is our conversation.
Pınar Arabacı: In the 19th century, the waltz was banned in some places for allowing “too much closeness,” whereas today it is seen as a symbol of luxury and elitism. How did you reflect this historical contradiction on stage?
Johanna Heusser: This dance was forbidden by the church and politics because they thought that people dancing the waltz entered a state of trance through the turns of this dance. From today’s perspective, I was very surprised to think about the ecstatic quality of the waltz, and I found it intriguing to work with the constant turning and trance-like state of this dance.
Pınar Arabacı: Your work carries a tone that is both grotesque and playful, even childlike. Pastel colors, the chewing gum scene, and absurd gestures feed this playfulness. How did you position this “childlike quality” within your dramaturgy?
Johanna Heusser: I think the childlike quality that you describe is more something that opens an imaginary world and leaves space for fantasies. At the same time, it is also a critique of wealth and the grotesqueness of the bourgeoisie, turning people sometimes into children, or supporting childish behavior.
Pınar Arabacı: Moments of losing rhythm, small clumsiness, or performers correcting each other become part of the play. What did you aim for in constructing this sense of playfulness?
Johanna Heusser: I was aiming to show, on the one hand, that the manner in which the waltz is taught can sometimes be very cruel and rigid. In those cases, I always sensed a potential for the stage, and also for humor. An audience loves seeing people fail on stage or not fitting in. I guess that makes them identify themselves more with the performers.
Pınar Arabacı: The waltz has historically been built on the male-female binary, yet in your work same-gender pairings expand and transform it. How do you think this rupture challenges the audience? Was this consciously staged through a queer lens, or did it emerge from the flow of relationships on stage?
Johanna Heusser: I would not call it a lens of queerness. But of course, from today’s perspective, the binary couple rule is completely outdated, and I am very much convinced that we should not repeat it by showing it on stage. Instead, in this piece, different pairings were naturally the starting point.
Pınar Arabacı: Flirtations, refusals, attractions, and resistances are not only erotic but also seem to stage a political negotiation. How did you construct these dynamics?
Johanna Heusser: I constructed these dynamics by building up certain rules and then breaking them again in the piece. For example, I wanted to show that couple dancing can also be violent or even abusive at times, and that it is always possible to say “no,” to stop, or to walk away if a situation becomes too much or crosses a boundary.
Pınar Arabacı: The cotton-candy aesthetic you create with pastel costumes and petticoats shifts into black and white in later scenes. What does this transition symbolize for you?
Johanna Heusser: I think I wanted to create a dramaturgy of the history of the waltz. In the first third of the piece, we show what we expect to see from the waltz and how it can be super beautiful. Then we transform it into something playful, absurd, but maybe also a little dangerous. Toward the end we strip those layers away; the performers become more neutral, let the movement take over, and make space for a kind of trance.
Pınar Arabacı: In the chewing gum scene, the gum stretches, sticks, and circulates among the performers, turning a mundane, even childish gesture into one of the central images of the piece. How did this evolve into such a central motif, and what does it represent for you?
Johanna Heusser: The chewing gum scene came from a very specific question to our waltz teacher. I asked her what could be the worst thing to do at a ball, and she answered: “Chewing gum.” So we started experimenting with it, and it eventually became a symbol of absurdity.
Pınar Arabacı: In one scene, a musician puts down their instrument and joins the dancers. How did this erasure of boundaries emerge, and what did it mean to you?
Johanna Heusser: Well, the musician Marie Jeger who joins the dancers is actually also a dancer, so it was kind of a natural transition. Also, toward the end, we wanted to explore the blurriness of those boundaries.
Pınar Arabacı: You presented Valse Valse Valse to Istanbul audiences within the Fringe Festival. How did encountering the audience here shape the reception of the piece? Compared to Europe, did you sense a different energy or reading?
Johanna Heusser: To be honest, the reception of the piece was quite similar. Of course, the waltz is probably still a Eurocentric practice, and maybe in Turkey it has less of an image. But wherever we go, people are very happy with the piece because it is very accessible and makes people laugh.
Pınar Arabacı: I’m curious about your experience at Fringe Istanbul: Was this your first encounter with the city? Did you engage with other works at the festival, and how did you experience both the city and the festival atmosphere?
Johanna Heusser: I loved the festival and everyone was so friendly and accommodating. Unfortunately, I didn’t have so much time to see other shows. Hopefully next time!
Pınar Arabacı: As a young artist, what core concerns do you carry in your works? How do these concerns shape your stage aesthetics?
Johanna Heusser: I am concerned with the accessibility of dance, and it is important to me that the audience understands what I want to say—at least more or less. I think sometimes contemporary dance has the problem of being seen as pseudo-intellectual. I try to make work that is understandable but not too simple at the same time. The worst thing that can happen is if people think they are not educated enough to watch dance.
Pınar Arabacı: How would you define your own aesthetic pursuit? Where does Valse Valse Valse sit within that journey?
Johanna Heusser: I think my aesthetic language is somewhere between dance and theatre, and I use a lot of facial gestures to tell a story.
Pınar Arabacı: Did this team come together solely for this project, or had you collaborated before?
Johanna Heusser: We have never worked together in this constellation, but hopefully we will do so again in the future.
Valse, Valse, Valse
Choreography, artistic direction: JOHANNA HEUSSER
Musicians: MARIE JEGER, JOACHIM FLÜELER, SEBASTIAN LOETSCHER
Stage and lighting: MARC VILANOVA
Dramaturgy: JOHANNA HILARI, FIONA SCHREIER
Costume: DIANA AMMANN
Outside Eyes: KATHARINA GERMO, STEPHAN STOCK
Production Management: MAXINE DEVAUD / OH LA LA - PERFORMING ARTS PRODUCTION
Assistance: ARINA FRÖHLICH
Technical Assistance: CHIARA LEONHARDT
Country: Switzerland
Dancers: NEIL HÖHENER, SIMEA CAVELTI, MOMO TANNER, DAVID SPEISER, EMERIC RABOT
Musical direction: XENIA WIENER
Duration: 60 minutes
Discipline: Dance
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