Becca Green is a performance artist from Los Angeles, based in Tallinn. A graduate of Estonian Music and Theatre Academy’s CPPM (Contemporary Physical Performance Making) master’s program, she works at the intersection of dance, physical theatre, and performance art currently researching verbatim text, photography, and whether intimacy can be mechanically reproduced.
Kirte Jõesaar is an Estonian performer and choreographer who met Becca during their shared studies at CPPM. Rooted in dance and contemporary performance, she collaborates with Becca on research-led work that exchanges personal histories between bodies and voices.
Daria Luchinina is a sound artist whose sonic landscapes thread through the project.
The following interview was conducted with Becca and Kirte during their residency in April 2026.
What are the themes you’re currently researching?
Obsession, infatuation, love, and the feminine nature of those altered states. What happens in your body when you’re in love, or when you have a crush? How does that relate to femininity and to communing with other women? The work draws on personal journals and explores what happens when very intimate, private texts are transferred onto another body or another voice.
How does that exchange work in practice and how does it feel to have someone else speak something that was only ever meant for you?
We brought our own private journals, writings from teenage years, never intended to be shared and began reading them aloud, to each other and as each other. What struck us was hearing something and thinking: I wrote almost the exact same sentence. There is a physical intensity to it; the fear of someone else speaking your most intimate words out loud, but also a kind of pleasure, even relief. Something so deeply personal turns out to be universal. Can you falsify intimacy in a way that it becomes real? That is the question we keep returning to.
We also collected photos from people. Images with an ex-partner that still hold something, a feeling or a memory. We then recreate those photos as precisely as possible: same angle, same expression, same composition. The process itself is very mechanical. Holding a pose, laborious and deliberate, yet the result carries a surprisingly similar emotional charge to the original. You look at the photo and begin imagining what they were saying, what they were thinking. You see a spark in their eyes and try to find that same spark in yourself. Can a reproduction hold the same emotional quality as the original, or does it create something else entirely, something uncanny? We don’t know yet. That is exactly where the research lives.
How does sound fit into the work?
We’ve been collecting songs from people. Breakup songs, the album someone played when falling in love, a mixtape made for an ex. Objects that hold memory inside them. Daria is working with these materials to build a soundscape that responds to the same ideas. On the 30th it will all come together: movement, text, and sound.
What has this residency offered you?
Time. In daily life there is always pressure to produce, to progress. Here, a concept gets space to breathe and grow on its own without urgency. We’ve been swimming in the topic: talking, gossiping, making connections, slowly discovering which specific directions we actually want to follow. Time is the biggest gift you can give a creative process. And it’s not so different from a relationship, really. Time is what everything needs.
