A play about how history needs to be told from the perspective of the one whose voice is either silenced or marginalized. In this case, on the one hand, Laika’s voice, the first (female) creature to be sent and die in space “in the name of science” and, on the other hand, Dog’s, an immigrant from the Middle East who thought starting a new life in “the new world” would be the adventure of his lifetime.


In 2018, the play had a stage reading directed by Marcy Arlin at TheaterLab in New York. In 2019 Olga Levina of Jersey City Theater Center staged it twice, one time at JCTC and a second time at the Romanian Cultural Institute in New York. With the same play I was invited to give a talk, “Playing a Game Called History” in Berlin.
The play had a reading with an innovative all-female cast this last summer at the Finnish Institute of Culture. With the same play, actresses, and director, the play travels to Birmingham this coming December. Finally, we work on its full production for next year.

My first play written directly in my native language. It’s a play marking the centennial anniversary since the Great Union in Romania that solidified us as one nation. But due to corruption, political immaturity, and socio-economic discrepancies, we can see and feel those 100 years not as fruitful as we would have hoped. Which in turn begs the question, since this is not an exclusive Romanian problem, but it applies to other ex-communist countries, has their journey to adapt to democracy a victory or a forever delayed achievement?

An immersive play in three tableaux with two presidents from two different countries morph into puppets, more specifically piñatas. This is an intergenerational, transnational play with two pairs, a granddaughter and her grandfather, and a grandson and his grandfather, respectively, plus one character in V.O. In this play, history becomes exactly what it should (have) be(en): a geographical map overlapping an anatomical one. When the two pairs from the two different countries meet, they discover that they have been sharing the stage the whole time. By so doing and by inviting the audience to participate, the play seeks a way to alleviate the heavy load of political propaganda transforming it into something else. There is no ending to the play, not in the strict way anyway, because with each audience the play has the option to be rewritten via a set of uncoreographed bodily gestures and sounds. At that point, language is superfluous.

At first look, Greetings from the Land of Pastries and Churches traces only one woman and her journey is, in a way, like a bildungsroman. At a deeper look, however, the piece actually reveals the frustrations and fights of generations trapped after communism. Finally, this piece has bits of words uttered in various languages that are currently spoken in Romania and by so doing to emphasize one more time that just because we are born in a country that does not automatically implies complete submission to one set of ideas, one language, one religion, etc.

A grandma tells her granddaughter about a secret from her past fearing that the latter may do the same mistake as she was forced to do. An intergenerational story about the power of truth-telling and acceptance towards one's sexual needs.

My first pantomime/dance play. The woman dances and we follow her body's story. She tells her story via her clothes and dance movements. She wears a skirt, a black tunic, a white medical gown, and, in the end, probably nothing. But that nude moment shall be brief and an indication of freedom. After that she could wear whatever the actress feels like wearing. Words are projected on her body, in the background, maybe on people in the audience.