Kyiv Labyrinth
It was a privilege to be invited to work with Theatre for Change in Ukraine. When I was last there in 2014, Yana, the director of TfCh, showed me around Babi Yar—a place I had long wanted to visit after reading The White Hotel by D.M. Thomas. That book begins as a psychoanalytic exploration but expands into a profound meditation on human fragility against the sweep of history. Toward its end, there is a powerful moment where the heroine, Lisa Erdman, encounters the scent of fresh pine sap, and in that instant, she seems to touch something beyond the personal—an insight into a deeper reality in which suffering and story dissolve.
Theatre for Change Jokers who participated in the slt workshops in Kyiv
Sensory Labyrinth Theatre aims to create moments of this kind for both audiences (“travellers”) and performers (“gatekeepers”). Through a Context Oriented Arts (CoArts) process, the work invites a leap into the possibility that reality is more fluid and interconnected than it appears. This leap of faith is never easy, and the process with the Ukrainian group proved to be one of the most testing I have experienced.
When I first introduced CoArts in June through The Art of Looking at Ourselves, the group seemed ready to step into the next stage—Connecting Matter, Energy and Meaning. Yet when I returned in August, I sensed a retreat, as though doors that had begun to open were closing again. Perhaps this reflects the natural rhythm of collective trauma: vulnerability followed by a necessary return to defence. Or perhaps it is simply the condition of living in a country under invasion, where the constant alert of danger shapes daily life.
Sun Tzu reminds us in The Art of War that defence alone can preserve but also constrains—it must be balanced with the capacity to flow and respond freely. This paradox felt present in the room.
And yet, despite everything, we created a labyrinth that welcomed 120 travellers. By its end, there was a tangible shift in atmosphere and connection. In our closing circle, I shared my gratitude that so many had made that leap with Sensory Labyrinth Theatre, and that its impact had been felt.
Among so much profound feedback to previous slt performances, one comment has stayed with me: “You are blessed to share such information.” For a long time, I wondered what that “information” truly was. Only now do I see it more clearly—that at the heart of the work lies a recognition: everything is already complete, just as it is. To have been able to share this, and for it to be received in such a moment, was deeply humbling.
