Collective YEBBA and Plesni Teater Ljubljana
“Our objectives are to continue improving working conditions for artists and cultural workers, facilitate youth mobility, reduce unemployment, and enable self-employed individuals to participate in projects and programs of both public institutions and the private sector.” This statement can be found on the Slovenian government’s website. In Slovenia, artists can acquire a special status that provides them with health insurance. Depending on their field, individuals can apply for the status of a dancer, producer, or painter. At first glance, the situation doesn’t seem too bad – I’ve seen worse. However, it’s worth asking why such a governmental project had to be implemented in the first place? There is still a big problem with lack of employment contracts and job opportunities, a shortage of qualified staff in government institutions, and overwhelming bureaucracy.
These and other issues were addressed in the dance spectacle/concert titled LP (Lep Pozdrav/Long Play/Live Performance) by the independent collective YEBBA, which consists of three performers: dancers Alja Lacković and Petra Peček, and musician Manca Trampuš. Guest appearances were made by Kaja Janjić and Teja Bitenc.
This wasn’t a typical dance performance. Instead, the creators called it a ‘dance concert’ – a live album. This is the collective’s second production following Clearance (2022), where they explored the relationships between sound, words, and movement. In both performances, the young creators use humour as a theatrical tool to discuss the issues their generation is facing.
The performance begins with three performers entering from a side door, laughing and thanking. We can hear applause and cheering from the open doors. However, instead of entering a dressing room, artists find themselves back on stage. The performers humorously navigate this situation, forcing themselves to laugh and appear pleased. As the performance progresses, humour gives way to the bitter reality. News reports about war, housing prices, and sexual violence are projected onto the back screen. Holding hands and moving in circles, the performers repeatedly say: “I am not… No, it passes… No… No… I am not afraid, no I am not”. Their movements synchronize with the words, and eventually, it becomes unclear whether the movements influence the words or vice versa. This interplay of movement and language continues throughout the LP…. Scenes reflecting on the state of the world and the bombardment of negative news lead to a trance-like atmosphere intended to collectively process trauma. However in the later parts it’s no longer the question of how to make art in a world of wars that is crucial, but the practical question of how to make art at all? How to feel financially secure as an artist? How to stop worrying about your insurance and start thinking about dance?
Following an energetic scene of self-promotion by the YEBBA collective, the performers lie on the stage as the guest performers join them from the audience. Kaja Janjić shares her experience with the Ljubljana tax office, which refused to refund her taxes despite being entitled to it. This monologue sparks a series of other complaints. Dressed in elegant blazers and dresses, the performers narrate their struggles as young artists. One wonders whether she receives money for her songs played on the radio. Another describes how she couldn’t get any information about health insurance and ultimately had to work abroad without it. Another recounts how the government demanded a refund of pandemic-related bonuses.
Throughout the performance, Manca Trampuš and Teja Bitenc provide music. Even during monologues about bureaucratic offices, music plays in the background, enhancing the atmosphere. Initially, the performers’ voices lend rhythm and musicality to the show. Later, the primary instrument – a melodica – introduces a cabaret-like, campy tone. Music remains a significant element, as the performance is essentially a live album and dance concert. Girls are singing songs about fear and taxes. In the final scene, a guitar accompanies a giving relief song about sunshine and vacations.
LP (Lep Pozdrav/Long Play/Live Performance)
The dancers’ movements shift according to the needs of the scene and accompanying text. In the scene addressing fear and anxiety from negative news, the choreography resembles movement classes, where dancers perform simple gestures to awaken their bodies. In the scene critiquing institutions, often infused with humour, creators are singing and dancing. The movement then becomes comedic, with dancers mimicking a cabaret style and smiling broadly in an exaggerated manner. This approach emphasizes the tragicomedy of their situations. In the closing scene, which starts with the words “Maybe just one more thing…” projected on the back screen, the performers present the “real” show. Smoke fills the stage, and the YEBBA collective, dressed in black, begins a performance. Two dancers execute complex contemporary choreography, while the musician pours water into glass containers and slowly starts playing the guitar. Suddenly, in the middle of a movement sequence, Alja Lacković interrupts with, “But I called….” This scene is at once a joke – a mix of self-irony about their profession and a parody of contemporary dance tropes, with black costumes, pathos and water of unknown meaning – and a bitter truth about artists’ struggles to focus on their art while also being preoccupied with taxes.
YEBBA’s artistic form contains movement, words, and sound. Each element is equally powerful and complements the others. When a song about self-employment and taxes is performed, the choreography, lyrics, and music come together to create a cohesive interpretation of the scene. What is most important in LP is its humor. It gives the performance a lightness that makes it accessible and understandable to all. YEBBA’s egalitarian productions use straightforward artistic language and relatable themes. Their work avoids overly complex allusions and metaphors, ensuring no one feels alienated or confused. No one needs to be afraid of failing to interpret this piece of difficult dance theatre full of meanings hidden in gestures.
“Lep pozdrav” is a Slovenian phrase used to greet someone at the end of emails. One would say “Best regards.” In the portrayal of young female artists who live precariously, the greeting has taken on a bitter taste, which has turned from a sincere form of politeness into an ironic and spiteful goodbye. Although I may be wrong, maybe even artists these days don’t get a response to emails. The sad deduction is that in the world we live in, artists don’t even deserve an insincere “Lep pozdrav.” A satisfying reflection after the show, however, is that even those artists working in the independent scene still want to criticize and fight against the system: against the grants and institutions.
Karolina Bugajak is a theater critic from Poland, currently living in Ljubljana. She studied culture and contemporary art at the University of Lodz. The title of her master's thesis was "Theatricality and Exaggeration. Camp aesthetics as a strategy for creating new identities in the plays of Grzegorz Jaremko". Her main theatrical interests include topics such as institutional criticism, the representation of marginalized groups in plays, and most recently the theater of the former Yugoslav states.
