While exploring Gorizia by myself the day before the start of Spring Forward Festival, my attention was soon caught by big, solid-coloured animal sculptures. A blue rabbit, red geese, a pink snail and others were scattered in key locations of the city, like friendly companions for new visitors. The QR code on the panel next to them explained that these installations, by the artistic group Cracking Art, formed the ‘Urban fairy tales’ itinerary, created to celebrate Gorizia and Nova Gorica’s year as European Capital of Culture – a programme that included Spring Forward, too.

A keyword and a short message were also displayed near them. Visitors were encouraged to follow the rabbit, for instance, and ‘enter a different reality where imagination leads the way’, inviting them to observe ‘the trees, the grass, the fountain, the sculptures’ and interpret the story they silently narrate. These notes felt connected to the experience I was about to embark on, somehow. I was very excited for the upcoming dance writing academy, yet at the same time a little worried that I wouldn’t be up to par, so I read the rabbit’s suggestions as a push to leave my concerns behind. Perhaps I could jump with curiosity and an open mind into the reality of the festival. And, like the trees and the grass, I should focus on noticing all the elements of the performances and be receptive to the information they convey.

There was one courtyard I could also step into in order to leave the city behind. Sant’Antonio Square silently made me reflect on the importance of nature in our lives, with its tranquil atmosphere and the four oversized blue and yellow swallows chilling on its green lawn. The colours of the birds mirrored the EU flag’s, and the installation’s accompanying message expressed a wish for our continent to be welcoming, like a nest, to everyone. At that moment I thought that swallows, also a symbol of travelling and spring, were the perfect animals to represent Spring Forward Festival, which gathers dancers and people from all over Europe and beyond.

Then the festival started, and Springback Academy became my nest. It was the place, or better, the group of people among whom I could find rest and understanding, either while silently editing texts in the corner of a room, or while discussing the performances and (such a rare opportunity!) various ways we could review them. We had different nationalities, native languages, and backgrounds – all elements that had an impact on the way we experienced the shows – but we shared the same passion for dance and for writing.

During the festival, it wasn’t imagination that guided us, like in the rabbit’s urban fairy tale, but rather a super-detailed and packed schedule. From opening talks to performances, from bus rides to dinners, we were fully immersed in Spring Forward activities, trying to dedicate some time to socialising in between watching the shows and writing.

While walking from one venue to another, we kept encountering the majestic still animals. We often passed by the impassive cats in the public gardens, next to our favourite coffee (and review-editing) place, and spent a good deal of time and conversations around the red elephant in front of Teatro Verdi, where we usually ended our evenings. When tiredness seeped in, the strength of that particular statue, which pushed a column of the theatre porch with his head, encouraged me to keep my energy level high and stay focused for the final performances of the day.
Some of these performances amazed me; others puzzled me, or gave me food for thought. We would walk back to the hotel afterwards, sharing impressions and opinions together with my mentor and academy-mates, and most of the writing would take place there, in the middle of the night.

Yet even if I was alone in my room, typing and sipping black tea instead of chatting with people and drinking wine, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt like I was spending more time with the performances themselves, remembering key moments, wondering about the reasons for certain choices, and trying to recall the emotions they created in me. I also knew the other Springbackers were doing the same: each of us was in front of our laptop, chasing the right words and the most effective sentences, but we were all in the same nest. Through the open window, I could hear birds chirping. I am not sure whether they were swallows, but like the silent sculptures around the city, they certainly accompanied me along this enriching journey of dance-writing.