{"id":273,"date":"2026-05-26T10:42:10","date_gmt":"2026-05-26T10:42:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/33\/?p=273"},"modified":"2026-06-26T10:40:16","modified_gmt":"2026-06-26T10:40:16","slug":"creating-open-ended-gatherings-reflections-on-the-meetings-of-teb-oyun-magazine-on-and-off-the-page","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/33\/creating-open-ended-gatherings-reflections-on-the-meetings-of-teb-oyun-magazine-on-and-off-the-page\/","title":{"rendered":"Creating Open Ended Gatherings: Reflections on the Meetings of TEB Oyun<\/em> Magazine On and Off the Page"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Eylem Ejder<\/strong>*<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Abstract<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

This article examines how the editorial practice of TEB Oyun<\/font> (Play) theatre magazine transformed into a space for open ended gatherings and collective reflection amid an increasingly fragmented public sphere. Shaped by the emotional and political atmosphere in post-earthquake Turkey, thematic issues and associated open-air meetings turned the editorial process from a text centered publishing activity into a site where participants could come together, share time and engage in dialogue. By focusing on these on and off page encounters, the essay highlights how editorial and performative practices of theatre can make visible relational and public forms of togetherness and collective imagination.

Keywords: <\/strong>editorial practice, theatre magazine, collective experience, public sphere, gatherings, TEB Oyun<\/font><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Introduction<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

When I visited the group exhibition titled \u201cForgetting the Past, A Gilded Lie\u201d[1]<\/sup><\/a> in Istanbul in January 2023, I encountered a photograph that covered an entire wall of the exhibition space. In the photograph, people gathered on a high, rocky hill overlooking the city center were embracing one another. I asked myself why they were embracing; was it to reunite, to say goodbye or to find solace? Perhaps it was simply because they wanted to come together and touch one another.  Noticing that the photograph had moved me, someone told me that the work belonged to artist Ferhat \u00d6zg\u00fcr\u2019s Embrace<\/em> series, and then showed me the first photograph in the series from an online source. This earlier photograph depicted people gathered on the foundation of an unfinished and abandoned construction site, embracing as if in mourning.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This image led me to consider what accumulated social longings and desires for reconciliation, compromise, reunion and togetherness are visible in these images, and how an alternative vision for the future might unfold in a sociopolitical climate shaped by hostility, division, and continual loss.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Embrace <\/em>(2003), by Ferhat \u00d6zg\u00fcr. Photo: Courtesy of the artist<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

A month later, following the earthquakes that struck eleven provinces in Turkey on February 6, 2023, claiming tens of thousands of lives, I recalled this photograph and the questions it raised. The anxiety and fear that followed the earthquakes, alongside the swiftly organized practices of solidarity and mutual aid, made me feel that we were like the people embracing one another on that unfinished construction site. It also made me reflect on the power of coming together, in moments of crisis, by touching and embracing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Living in Turkey has long meant living under intense sociopolitical tension created by rising polarization, impoverishment caused by neoliberal economic policies, increasingly authoritarian forms of governance and successive ecological and urban destruction. Over the past decade, the country has experienced a series of social and political upheavals that have reshaped public life.  These include the Gezi Park protests in 2013, the June 2015 elections and subsequent political deadlock, bombings and security crises including the 2015 Ankara train station attack, the 2016 attempted coup and state of emergency, mass arrests and restrictions on freedom of expression, the 2018 shift to an expanded presidential system, the pandemic, urban redevelopment projects, mining disasters, forest fires; and finally, in 2023, the devastating earthquakes.[2]<\/sup><\/a> As a result of the earthquakes, these long-accumulated fractures suddenly became visible. At the same time, they raised questions about how to live together and build a shared future. We all wondered how we would continue and recover, and how we would create a life rooted in caring, love and attentiveness in which no one was left behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These problems prompted me to revisit the very nature of theatre, which I approach, following Erika Fischer-Lichte, as a practice grounded in the bodily co-presence of performers and spectators who gather in a shared space and time (38). Theatre, in this sense, emerges from this encounter as an event produced through co-presence and interaction. It can thus be understood as what Malzacher describes as an \u201cart of gathering\u201d and of encountering others, providing a space in which members of a community meet and communicate without the necessity of a narrative, allowing the experience of being together to come to the fore in the context of contemporary Turkey, we are led to ask how theatre and the discussions it engenders can open new spaces for gathering within a public life that is increasingly fragmented and shaped by ongoing crises, how these gatherings might foreground the inclusive, solidarity based, and ecological possibilities of living together, and how artistic production and processes of discussion can expand social imagination and practices in times of crisis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Addressing these questions, I began to reconsider the editorial practices of TEB Oyun<\/em>, the periodical of the Turkish Theater Critics\u2019 Association. In particular, I focused on how a theatre magazine could explore and develop processes that contribute to building such a public life, on and off the page. In this essay, I trace how the journal\u2019s editorial practice gradually evolved into a space for gathering and collective reflection amid an increasingly fragmented public sphere, and how these gatherings relate to public life. I examine the conditions under which the thematic issues prepared between 2023 and 2025 emerged in response to current social and political developments, exploring these experiences through the open-air gatherings around them. I also convey how, during this process, the journal moved beyond a mere platform for publishing texts on theatre and evolved into an open-ended gathering practice, showing how even amid crises, coming together and listening can create a shared, if temporary, ground.<\/p>\n\n\n

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The garden of Atat\u00fcrk Public Library, Taksim. Istanbul, September 2, 2023. From the gathering \u201cHow Else Could These Afternoons Be Beautiful?\u201d. Photo: Courtesy of Ataturk Library<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Editorial Practice as Way of Gathering on Page<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

TEB Oyun<\/em> is the quarterly online and free publication of the Turkish Theater Critics\u2019 Association (TEB), the Turkish branch of the IATC. Launched as OYUN (Play), it became TEB\u2019s official journal in 2008 and is one of Turkey\u2019s longest running theatre publications. With the pandemic, it moved fully online (see Tiyatroyla \u0130lgili Her \u015eey), offering articles both as downloadable PDFs and individual web pages. The magazine covers national and international theatre practices through criticism, essays, interviews and book reviews, while also featuring independent and experimental productions alongside institutional ones. Its editorial board, composed of scholars, artists, and critics from different generations, has maintained a collective structure open to new members.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since 2016, I have been on the editorial board. I have edited dossiers and special issues, designing new pages, columns and sections that approach theatre criticism not only as evaluation but as an artistic and collective thinking practice. These were shaped by aesthetic or experimental curiosity in response to sociopolitical polarization and explore the transformative potential of collective critical thinking (Ejder). The most significant shift in the magazine\u2019s editorial practice, however, occurred after the earthquakes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the earthquake, the first proposal for the next issue was an earthquake dossier. Focusing on how the earthquake is represented in theatre during a moment when eleven provinces were devastated and life was almost suspended could have been both premature and reductive. Instead, I suggested reframing the discussion around the question How?<\/em>. In Turkey, this interrogative expression had become one of the most frequently used words in daily conversations, expressing not only anxiety but also a desire to think together, as members of the community asked each other: How will we continue? How will we live? How will we show solidarity? Will we, the multi-fronted opposition to the authoritarian win elections? How will we struggle to regain a more democratic society? (Ejder and G\u00fclseven 15)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the face of consecutive political, economic and ecological crises and social tensions, these questions revealed our fears, shared intentions and desires. Therefore, rather than publish an issue solely on the earthquake, I proposed a thematic issue exploring the question of How?<\/em> through theatre.  Through this approach, the issue would not only address the relationship of theatre to disasters, but also express our intensified intellectual and emotional states, social anxieties, and the longings, desires and hopes that emerged from our collective imagination. The approach was designed to explore the theatrical and performative power of a concept and through it, to reconsider both theatre and life. As a result, for the first time in the magazine\u2019s history, a thematic special issue spanning the entire volume was published.[3]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The issue differed from previous editions in both content and production. This transformation unfolded on several levels, driven by a desire to experiment with non-hierarchical, egalitarian and inclusive ways of coming together on the page. For the first time in the history of TEB Oyun<\/em>, an open call invited contributions from participants across disciplines, focusing on the question: \u201cHow?\u201d <\/em>Together with the accepted authors, we, as two editors, established a collective process in which texts were developed through staged feedback. Through online meetings and reciprocal comments, the texts took shape in continuous editorial dialogue, unlike the magazine\u2019s previous practices. This approach was inspired by Sedgwick\u2019s \u201creparative reading\u201d (123), aiming not only to evaluate but to collaboratively expand the text\u2019s possibilities, embracing openness to potential and alternative ways of thinking, particularly in a time of crisis. The editorial orientation went beyond the usual review-criticism formats of Turkish theatre magazines, introducing more diverse and experimental writing forms into local publishing practice. These pages allowed artistic production to appear in various textual modes, creating a porous space where poetic, conceptual and performative forms could coexist. The approach aligned with my own writing and pedagogical practice, embracing the idea of ecological entanglement with hybrid text production that avoids rigid boundaries between genres. At this point, Karen Barad\u2019s notion of \u201cdiffractive reading\u201d offered an inspiring framework to understand these gatherings on the page as an entangled and plural practice of thinking (Barad 50).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another key step was opening space for newly formed independent theatre groups, artists and writers who had not previously contributed to the magazine to support emerging creative practices. As a result, the issue published twenty-seven texts from contributors across generations and disciplines, reaching a larger scale than anticipated and significantly expanding the magazine\u2019s audience. The other innovation was design related. Since 2008, TEB Oyun<\/em> covers had featured a wooden theatre mask on a white background. With the \u201cHow?\u201d issue, however, we decided to depart from this visual tradition. In the editorial introduction, we ironically noted that we were \u201cthrowing away our mask\u201d (Sava\u015fkan 7). The new cover featured \u00d6zg\u00fcr\u2019s Embrace<\/em> photograph, creating a powerful metaphor reflecting both the post-earthquake context of the issue and the feeling of compassion from being together.<\/p>\n\n\n

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The cover images of two special issues of TEB Oyun<\/em>. Cover designs by Ya\u015fam \u00d6zlem G\u00fclseven. Photo: Courtesy of TEB Oyun<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
How Else Can We Make these Evenings Be Beatiful?<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The collective thinking which engendered the \u201cHow?\u201d issue and the cross disciplinary dialogue it fostered also prompted us to extend the discussion beyond the magazine\u2019s pages. Could this encounter around the journal be transformed into a physical, performative gathering? To test the temporarily public digital space in a physical setting, I proposed an open-air event. During World Peace Week, on 2 September 2023, we held TEB Oyun<\/em>\u2019s first outdoor gathering for writers and readers in Istanbul. Entitled \u201cHow Else Can These Evenings Be Beautiful?\u201d, the event later became a model for regular open-air gatherings held after each new issue, gradually taking the form of open-ended meetings with a distinct flow. The events, called \u201copen ended gatherings,\u201d inspired by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing\u2019s ecological concept (23), have begun to function as an assemblage in which diverse ways of life, rhythms and experiences converged to produce a collective experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Each gathering typically began with a performative and poetic introduction by the issue editors, followed by short contributions from a guest poet and an academic engaging with the issue. At the center was an open-mic session where participants read their own texts or excerpts from selected writings; these sessions often expanded into performative presentations, staged readings and artistic interventions. As participants shared poems, texts and reflections, they experienced both the courage and vulnerability of being visible in public during a period of increasing restrictions on freedom of expression. The events ended with everyday sharing, including food, around a communal table and closing conversations, while experimental elements, such as sound collages made from the texts, amplified the polyphonic character of the encounter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first gathering took place in the garden of Atat\u00fcrk Library. Its proximity to Taksim Square allowed it to be part of the city\u2019s daily flow while offering a sense of temporary retreat. Another significant aspect was its adjacency to Gezi Park, where the 2013 protests began against plans to convert the park into a shopping mall and soon grew into a nationwide mass movement. This location became a meeting ground carrying both historical and contemporary political and urban memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As an example, the first event opened with manifesto-like poetic text readings by the issue\u2019s co-editor Ya\u015fam \u00d6zlem G\u00fclseven and me, Eylem Ejder, followed by contributions from poet Sevin\u00e7 \u00c7alhano\u011flu and academic Esra Dicle. In the open-mic session, participants read their own texts as well as selected writings, later published in subsequent issues as the documentation of the gathering, creating one of the most impressive performative and collective moments of the event. Often read by young theatre makers and students, these texts reflected precarity, ecological anxiety, queer possibilities and shifting imaginaries of the future. The session was followed by Dil\u015fad Alada\u011f\u2019s performance Taklak<\/em>, which traced the artist\u2019s migration from her hometown Adana to \u0130stanbul and finally to Berlin, and the challenges encountered in these cities, its title evoking both inversion and the blooming of the Judas tree that accompanied her journey. A sound collage of excerpts from contributing authors was also developed, circulating throughout the day in the space, allowing texts to be experienced collectively, even by those who could not attend in person, and merging with the city\u2019s ambient sounds to create a unique soundscape.<\/p>\n\n\n

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During the opening, the editors read aloud from their texts. In the first photo (left to right): Eylem Ejder and Ya\u015fam \u00d6zlem G\u00fclseven. In the second photo (left to right): Sevin\u00e7 \u00c7alhano\u011flu and Esra Dicle. Photo: Courtesy of Atat\u00fcrk Library<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Another important aspect was that the gathering took place without institutional funding or sponsorship. Participants shared food they had brought from home at a communal table, while another table displayed old issues of TEB Oyun<\/em>, enabling participants to access and take the archive for free.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Participants browse and spend time with past issues of TEB Oyun. Photo: Courtesy of Atat\u00fcrk Library<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The title of the event, \u201cHow Else Can These Evenings Be Beautiful?\u201d, comes from Turkish poet Turgut Uyar\u2019s poem \u201cK\u0131rlardan Geliyorlar\u201d {They come from the meadows}.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They come from the meadows, hyacinths in their hands \/ of course they will come from the meadows \/ how else can these evenings be beautiful \/ tell me how to endure the shops and warehouses \/ how else can this tar smell pass.\u201d)[4]<\/sup><\/a> (translated by the author from Uyar (138).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The phrase both captured the spirit of the issue and shaped the name and direction of the gathering. It suggested possibilities implied by a not yet realized future that could transform a bleak present. It also resonated with Turkey\u2019s recent political memory: during the nationwide Gezi Park protests of May 2013, one graffiti read, \u201cWe are Turgut Uyar\u2019s lines.\u201d[5]<\/sup><\/a> The title\u2019s reference to this verse and the location of the first event near Gezi Park serendipitously invoked the possibilities of being together in public and creating shared time without becoming an open target under the hyper sensitive atmosphere of growing authoritarianism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A decade after young protesters wrote \u201cwe are the verses of Turgut Uyar\u201d on the walls of Gezi, gathering under a line from his poem in the same location, evoking the urban memory, felt like a reenactment of that claim. In this sense, the gathering and the reference of the title also echoed what Deniz Ba\u015far describes as \u201cmonuments of absence\u201d in the post-Gezi public sphere: embodied traces of past resistance that persist even when suppressed, carrying the potential for future forms of collective action. (Ba\u015far 169) The title became more than a name: it became a proposition. Perhaps enhancing our shared time requires experimenting with new forms of gathering; the gathering itself was a small rehearsal of that possibility.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Graffiti from Gezi Park Protests (2013) by young protesters: “We are the verses of Turgut Uyar.” Source: Online image<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Warmly received by participants, the title was retained in subsequent events, and became the permanent heading of the series. These gatherings, where people came together to talk, listen, read, and spend time collectively, offered small but powerful experiences of alternative ways to create shared time. As TEB Oyun<\/em> contributor Y\u00fcsra Y\u00fcce reflects in her account of the gathering, recalling a moment when Ceren Ka\u00e7ar from Reka Collective said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even if we don\u2019t speak, just being next to each other and holding hands is enough for me.\u00a0Throughout the event, we draw strength from the people we sit beside. We find consolation in each other\u2019s presence. We realize we are not alone in feeling, suffering, and thinking. For four hours, we become hope for one another. (Y\u00fcce 173)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How to Sustain the Process<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The \u201cHow?\u201d issue was shaped not only by the emotional and social atmosphere following the earthquake but also by an intense political year. The year 2023 marked the tenth anniversary of the Gezi Park protests and the centenary of the Republic, and it also coincided with a critical presidential election. Across broad sectors of society, there was a strong expectation that political change could come through voting, along with a strong sense of mobilization, reflected, among other things, in record levels of voter turnout and widespread voluntary participation in election monitoring. This climate inevitably prompted reflection on solidarity, collective action and visions for the future.<\/p>\n\n\n

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From the opening speech at the second edition of \u201cHow to Make Beautiful These Afternoons?\u201d, Stone School, Prince\u2019s Islands, September 2024. Photo: Courtesy of \u0130SMEK<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The second thematic issue, prepared a year later, continued these questions and focused on the theme of gathering. While the \u201cHow?\u201d issue asked how we could make life beautiful in alternative ways, this issue explored the forms of coming together that made it possible, also shaped by the relatively hopeful atmosphere following the 2024 local elections which generated a temporary sense of collective possibility.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Artist P\u0131nar Y\u00fcksel performs Listening to Sappho<\/em> at the second edition of \u201cHow Else Can These Evenings Be Beautiful?\u201d, Stone School, Princes\u2019 Islands, September 2024. Photo: Courtesy of \u0130SMEK<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The third thematic issue, prepared in 2025, was shaped under the shadow of political developments that deeply unsettled young generations\u2019 visions of the future in Turkey. On 19 March 2025, the revocation of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem \u0130mamo\u011flu\u2019s university degree and his subsequent arrest triggered strong feelings of insecurity and anger, particularly among university students. The protests that followed quickly revived public gatherings and forum practices in different cities. The fact that young people mobilized not only around political demands but also around shared concerns for the future led us to reconsider our thematic focus around the concept of future, producing the Spring\/Summer 2025 issue under this heading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maintaining the editorial collaboration model was especially important for me. In each thematic issue, I worked with different, often younger, editors to create spaces for collective learning and to transform the journal\u2019s editorial knowledge over time. This approach not only shaped the publication process but also triggered new forms of solidarity and organization. For instance, dramaturgs and researchers who came together during this period established an independent platform called Dramatist, developing professional support networks. Inspired by the open-air gatherings, I organized \u201cPerformative Gatherings, in Together,\u201d circle meetings where participants came together through the texts they wanted to read. All these initiatives demonstrated that the thematic issues were not merely publishing projects but also practical spaces enabling new forms of community formation.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Placard from the youth protests in Sara\u00e7hane, 19 March 2025: \u201cYoung people have nothing left, not even fear.\u201d Source: Online image<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
In Lieu of a Conclusion<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

In her study Public_ing: Practicing Democracy Through Performance<\/em>, Danae Theodoridou emphasizes that public debates often take place through space, whereas public time is just as decisive. Unless it is reconfigured outside existing dominant neoliberal approaches, opportunities for collective thinking and democratic action remain limited (Theodoridou 62). Her approach intersects with Falk H\u00fcbner\u2019s concept of \u201cartistic connectivity\u201d, defined as a different form of connection and attachment guided by processes based on spending time together, mutual learning, care and respect, positive change, and endless curiosity (H\u00fcbner and Theodoridou). The collective editorial processes and open-air gatherings we developed around the thematic issues became spaces where these conceptual frameworks could be experienced concretely. Our goal was not only to bring people together in the same space, but also to create an environment where they could spend time together, slow down to listen to one another, and participate in collective thinking. The collaborations emerging in each issue and outdoor gathering enabled not just content production, but also a creative practice that could make social imaginaries visible and transformable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The emotion embodied in Ferhat \u00d6zg\u00fcr\u2019s Embrace<\/em> photograph gained further significance as this process unfolded. Encounters during the open gatherings and reading performances made visible for participants a closeness that went beyond physical contact, the intimacy created by being present together and attentive to one another. This process of community building around the thematic issues reminds us of the essential capacity of theatre: to exist together, care for one another and collectively imagine future possibilities that we have yet to name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such open-ended gatherings, echoing the ideas of theatre as \u201cart of gathering\u201d or “publicing,\u201d exemplify how encounters in shared space can extend the relational and deliberative potential of theatre and performance in public space. I hope these practices, which contribute to a growing literature on participatory and civic oriented theatre, remain open to further theoretical and practical exploration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Endnotes<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

[1]<\/sup><\/a> Original title of the exhibition is \u201cGe\u00e7mi\u015fi Unutmak, Yald\u0131zl\u0131 Bir Yalan\u201d (Kar\u015f\u0131 Sanat 2023).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2]<\/sup><\/a> For a detailed overview of these transformations, see Ba\u015far; Ejder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[3]<\/sup><\/a> For the full issue, see Ejder and G\u00fclseven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[4]<\/sup><\/a> Original Turkish text of the poem\u2019s first quatrain: \u201ck\u0131rlardan geliyorlar ellerinde s\u00fcmb\u00fclteber\/elbette k\u0131rlardan gelecekler\/ba\u015fka t\u00fcrl\u00fc nas\u0131l g\u00fczelle\u015fir bu ak\u015fam\u00fcstleri\/s\u00f6yleyin nas\u0131l dayan\u0131l\u0131r d\u00fckkanlara depolara\/bu katran kokusu ba\u015fka t\u00fcrl\u00fc nas\u0131l ge\u00e7er\u201d (Uyar 137-38).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[5]<\/sup><\/a> At this time, the poem also became the focus of other artistic projects: Metin and Kemal Kahraman composed it as a song \u201cK\u0131rlardan Geliyorlar\u201d (2022). See (Metin-Kemal Kahraman); and the edited book K\u0131rlardan Gelecekler<\/em>  by \u00d6zge G\u00fcne\u015f and  \u0130lkay \u00d6zge explored its imagery in contemporary rural, ecological, and anti-capitalist contexts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bibliography<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Barad, Karen, Rosi Dolphijn, and Iris van der Tuin. \u201cMatter Feels, Converses, Suffers, Desires, Yearns, and Remembers.\u201d Interview with Karen Barad. New Materialism: Interviews & Cartographies<\/em>, Open Humanities Press, 2012, pp. 48\u201370.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ba\u015far, Deniz. \u201cFrom Repertoires of Resistance to Monuments of Absence.\u201d European Journal of Theatre and Performance<\/em>, vol. 4, 2022, pp. 160\u201397.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ejder, Eylem, and Ya\u015fam \u00d6zlem G\u00fclseven. \u201cGiri\u015f: Nas\u0131l?<\/a>\u201d TEB Oyun<\/em>, Special Issue: \u201cHow?\u201d, Spring\/Summer 2023, pp. 15\u201319. Accessed 21 Mar. 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ejder, Eylem. \u201cCritical Endeavors: Experimental Searches in Contemporary Performance Criticism in Turkey.\u201d Platform: Journal of Performing Arts<\/em>, vol. 13, no. 1, \u201cOn Criticism,\u201d Autumn 2019, pp. 103\u201315.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fischer-Lichte, Erika. The Transformative Power of Performance: A New Aesthetics.<\/em> Translated by Saskya Iris Jain, Routledge, 2008.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

H\u00fcbner, Falk and Danae Theodoridou, editors. \u201cCall for Papers: On Social Imaginaries.\u201d Performance Research<\/em>, June 2023, Circulated via email.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

G\u00fcne\u015f, \u00d6zge, and \u0130lkay \u00d6zge, editors. K\u0131rlardan Gelecekler: 21. Y\u00fczy\u0131lda Tar\u0131m ve Antikapitalist Perspektif [They Will Come from the Meadows: Agriculture and Anti-Capitalist Perspective in the 21st Century].<\/em> Sol K\u00fclt\u00fcr Yay\u0131nlar\u0131, 2024.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kahraman, Metin-Kemal. \u201cK\u0131rlardan Geliyorlar<\/a>.\u201d YouTube<\/em>, 4 Nov. 2022. Accessed 21 Mar. 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kar\u015f\u0131 Sanat. \u201cGe\u00e7mi\u015fi Unutmak, Yald\u0131zl\u0131 Bir Yalan<\/a>.\u201d Accessed 21 Mar. 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Malzacher, Florian. The Art of Assembly: Political Theatre Today.<\/em> Alexander Verlag Berlin, 2023.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sava\u015fkan, Tijen. \u201cMerhaba.\u201d TEB Oyun<\/em>, Spring\/Summer 2023, pp. 6\u201310.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy, Performativity.<\/em> Duke UP, 2003.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tiyatroyla \u0130lgili Her \u015eey<\/a>. TEB Oyun<\/em>, 2020. Accessed 21 Mar. 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theodoridou, Danae. Public_ing: Practicing Democracy Through Performance\/An Analogue Company.<\/em> Nissos Academic Publishing, 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tsing, Anna Lowenhaupt. The Mushroom at the End of the World.<\/em> Princeton University Press, 2015.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Uyar, Turgut. \u201cK\u0131rlardan Geliyorlar.\u201d In Ne G\u00fczeldi Senin \u00c7\u0131lg\u0131nl\u0131\u011f\u0131n<\/em>, edited by Turgay Fi\u015fek\u00e7i, Adam Yay\u0131nlar\u0131, 2003. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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*<\/a>Eylem Ejder<\/strong> holds a BA in Physics from Istanbul University and studied Theatre at Ankara University. She completed her PhD in Theatre with a dissertation titled \u201cRecycling Dramaturgies.\u201d<\/em> During her doctoral research, she was a guest researcher at the Centre for Ibsen Studies, University of Oslo, and a selected participant in the Mellon School of Theatre and Performance Research at Harvard University. Since 2020, she has been developing autobiographical performances, public learning programs, workshops and collaborative projects. Her artistic research engages interdisciplinary and hybrid forms, incorporating writing as well as urban and nature walks. Her writings on theatre have been published nationally and internationally in journals including European Stages<\/em>, Critical Stages<\/em> and Arab Stages<\/em>. She is currently a faculty member in the Department of Performing Arts at the Istanbul Ni\u015fanta\u015f\u0131 University Conservatory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9<\/strong> 2026 Eylem Ejder
Critical Stages\/Sc\u00e8nes critiques<\/em>, #33, June 2026
e-ISSN: 2409-7411<\/p>\n\n\n

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This work is licensed under the
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