After a festival week characterised by time (or the lack thereof), it seems only fitting that I write this in the middle of the night after consuming an ungodly amount of espresso, in true Springback Academy fashion. I remember sitting in the hallway of the Unione Ginnastica Goriziana in Gorizia, with Elena Sgarbossa for our interview. She told me how she loved taking her time in her practice, the importance of it – to allow things to emerge. Little did I know, the concept of taking time would haunt me for the rest of Spring Forward 2025.

Time is how a lot of people make sense of the world, including myself. Each day, we’re concerned with the way we spend and organise our time. How long will my commute take? When do I need to leave? Am I ageing too fast? Am I moving forward in my career fast enough? 

Time today is neatly organised in 24 hours that can be measured, disciplined. It reflects our late-stage capitalist need for speed – getting things done faster, more efficiently. The clock rules our life and we are constantly reminded that time is money – thanks, Benjamin Franklin. Time has become a currency, a form of pressure. 

This year’s Spring Forward programme brought a countercurrent, as a majority of the performances happened in slow motion. WATERKIND by Land Before Time, for instance, offers a well-developed patient exploration of the connection between two people, without them ever touching each other. Dominik Więcek/Sticky Fingers Club’s Glory Game dissects the spectacle of competition at a glacial pace. In Gush is Great, Production Xx also showcases a line of 5 performers walking forward at a snail’s pace while the stage descends into chaos. These are just a few of the performances that played with our perception of time.

The slowness asked us, the audience, to pay attention to details, to become immersed in the world created on stage. Perhaps it comes from an urge to counter the need for speed and productivity that seems to cross the borders between our countries. In that sense, it seems to echo the theme of this year’s festival location – 2025 European Capital of Culture Gorizia/ Nova Gorica – which is borderless culture.

Then, on a less theoretical level, we also measure time based on how much fun we are having. There were performances that seemed to last an hour – while in reality, just 10 minutes had passed. Perhaps they weren’t my cup of tea. Meanwhile, others were over in the blink of an eye.

My days with Springback Academy were in stark contrast to this tendency to move slow, from writing reviews at 2 in the morning to editing with our left hand while trying to eat with the right. Now, I had noticed Oonagh Duckworth’s subtle foreshadowing during the preparatory online meeting session: at the time, she explained that most of the mentoring would happen over breakfast or while moving from one theatre to the other. So it should have come as no surprise that we’d be doing a lot in very little time. The irony of writing reviews to high-tempo deadlines, while watching performances in slow motion, is not lost on me.

In real life – and I would argue that Springback Academy ventures outside the realm of real life – time is treated as a commodity. In a world where time is measured and disciplined , these slow performances ask for something quite radical: to spend time differently. Not only in terms of the pieces that incorporated slow movement, but also to dwell in the time it takes for something unenjoyable to end. 

My relationship with time has always been problematic: I either don’t have enough or I have too much of it. This week shoved that relationship back in my face like a mirror. While I was racing to meet deadlines and running from performance to performance, the performers were stretching seconds – creating tension between my lived experience and what I witnessed on stage. I suddenly found myself questioning my own addiction to doing everything so fast. Never taking the time, and always needing to be more productive. 

During Spring Forward 2025 time became elastic. It wasn’t always comfortable – in fact, it often wasn’t – but it was incredibly enriching and did what makes me love art so much: it made me reflect on my life and the world. 

In the end the four days flew by. Perhaps all it took was (a lot of bodies) slowing down.