The performer and director talks about life after Primus Theatre, his collaboration with Fanis Katehos, the secret language of stilts and the art that breathes deeper than words. Why he (continues to) be concerned with a Theatre that speaks even in silence.

// by Georgia Drakaki, Greek Life Journal

It's simple: the Handmade and Recyclable International Arts Festival returns to the heart of Athens (September 17–28, 2025) for the 13th time. As part of this festival, the Fabrica Athens Multi-Action Art Group is hosting performances and seminars by renowned directors from Europe and America. More specifically, the following will present their performances and hold seminars: Donald Kitt (from Odin Teatret, Denmark), Nathalie Mentha (Teatro Potlach, Italy), Natasha Mirny (Happy Theatre, USA), Natasha Czertok (Teatro Nucleo, Italy), Daniel Jacewicz (Teatr Brama, Poland) and Günter Klingler from Germany.

Let me introduce you to Donald Kitt. His career began at the University of Winnipeg and continued in numerous theater productions until 1989, when he co-founded the Primus Theatre group in Canada. After the group disbanded in 1998, Kitt moved to Italy, where he worked as a performer, teacher and stilt trainer. Since 2006, he has been a member of Odin Teatret, while also directing and teaching in theater workshops around the world. He specializes in the art of stilts and trains young artists who are active in theater events with a social and environmental orientation in Denmark. 

At the 13th Handmade & Recycled Theater Festival – Osmosis edition, we will have the opportunity to enjoy him in the solo performance of "Fool in the Full Moon" on September 20, a performance that has been successfully presented at international festivals.

At the same time, Kitt will direct Fanis Katechos in the performance "Sisyphus – flesh and earth", which premiered in Poland and will be presented in Athens on September 26, as part of the festival, while Greek artists will have the opportunity to learn firsthand about his way of working, in a special seminar.

In an era dominated by speed, image and the rush to impress, there are still artists who return to the foundations: to the body, to rhythm, to silence. Kitt is one such creator. From Winnipeg to Naples, from Bali to the Odin Theatre, and now in Greece, he follows paths that are not easily mapped. I discussed with him the beginning, the doubt, the stones that become partners on stage, and the essence of presence: not as a technique, but as an inner awakening. I hand you our conversation, handmade and from the heart, and I am preparing now for both the 20th and the 26th of September.

Looking back on your early years in Winnipeg and the founding of Primus Theatre, what were the key questions or inner impulses that led you to create an original, multidisciplinary theatrical work?

My journey began as a traditionally trained actor, moving from contract to contract. Despite all my education and experience – four years of university studies and ten performances in two years – I began to feel frustrated. Rehearsals were short, the work was often superficial, and something substantial seemed to be missing. The turning point came in a workshop with a distinguished Canadian director. After a monologue I performed, he simply said to me: "You are charming." That word hit me. Was that it? It prompted me to ask myself more deeply: What am I really doing? And why am I doing it?

So?

So, I realized that I longed for something more demanding, more personal, and more transformative—something that required a long process and a sense of craftsmanship. That's when the urge to seek new forms, to explore beyond the theatrical text, was born. The creation of Primus Theatre in Winnipeg was the first step in that quest: toward an original, collaborative, multidisciplinary theater, based on physicality, inquiry, and risk.

Your move to Italy marked a new chapter – geographically, artistically and personally. What did you leave behind and what did you discover in this transition?

When the Primus Theatre cycle ended, I found myself at a crossroads. I was a co-founder of the group, and its end felt like losing a structure within which my artistic identity had been shaped. I decided to move to Italy – specifically to Naples and the Amalfi Coast – motivated by both personal reasons (a relationship with a Neapolitan woman!), and the desire for a new beginning. What I left behind was security: a network, a familiar environment, a professional rhythm. What I discovered, however, was something more substantial and humbling – the experience of starting from scratch. I had no team, no resources, no clear path ahead of me. But from this void, new opportunities were born: I taught in schools and prisons, worked with communities, created carnival parades, introduced children to the art of stilt walking. Italy taught me to embrace simplicity, to rebuild from scratch, and to let personal and artistic life intertwine organically.

You have studied Topeng dance in Bali with a teacher and work extensively with stilts. What do these physical forms of expression that transcend speech offer you?

Topeng dance and stilts lead me to forms of communication that transcend language. Studying Topeng in Bali was a profound experience – because learning there is not intellectual. You don't just learn "about" the form, you experience it. The mask teaches you. The teacher teaches you by example, by repetition, by silence. This transmission cannot be explained, unless you experience it, it is not easy to understand.

Something similar happens with stilts. They offer me a sense of joy and freedom that is difficult to describe. It is a dance with space. I have worked with them for so many years that I feel like they are an extension of my body. They lead me to an enhanced state of presence, immediate and physical. And they enable me to transmit this experience to others – especially young people – as a way of empowerment and play.

Odin Teatret has a unique identity in the world of theatre. How has your participation in this ensemble influenced your understanding of what theatre is – or can be?

My participation in Odin Teatret completely reshaped my understanding of theater. It is not just a place for performances – it is a workshop, a home, a discipline and a way of life. Eugenio Barba often said that every new work should feel like the first time. This sense of constant beginning keeps the work alive and authentic. Through Odin, I understood that theater is something deeply personal. It is not about transmitting a message to the largest possible audience, but about sharing a unique experience – crafted with precision and care – that can touch everyone differently. It is not only the text that matters, but also the presence, the rhythm, the silence, the space, the unspeakable. Odin taught me to constantly learn, to remain in dialogue with tradition, with others and with myself.

What continues to surprise you when you work with young stilt walkers and performers? What do they remind you of about yourself, about art, about its purpose?

I am constantly amazed by their courage and openness. Teaching is a joy, because it calls me to crystallize not only what I teach but also how I communicate. It is like teaching a new language – and if one way doesn't work, you have to find another. This keeps me alert, creative and honest. When I look at my students, I see the same thirst that I had when I first discovered the art of theatre – the thirst to belong to something substantial, to discover your identity, to be seen. They remind me that theatre is not just a technique or a form. It is a need. And responding to that need is a responsibility – and a gift.

What, in your opinion, is the role of ritual, repetition, and physicality in a performance – especially in a world increasingly shaped by speed and virtuality?

For me, performance starts with the body and it starts with repetition. I come from the "old school," where you do something over and over again until it begins to reveal itself. Ritual, in this sense, is not superstition – it is the foundation of discipline and depth. In a world dominated by speed, instant communication and superficial interactions, performance becomes a place of slowness and depth. You need time to reach depth. The process must start from a clean base, a physical vocabulary, and evolve slowly. This slowness is a form of resistance. It is a way to regain attention, physicality and presence – things that are increasingly rare.

Your upcoming collaboration with Fanis Katechos premieres in Poland and later comes to Athens. What is the "heart" of this project? What do you hope it will evoke in the audience?

This project is by its nature a work-in-progress, and this is essential to its identity. Its first presentation in Poland is not a premiere in the traditional sense – it is an invitation to the process. We will gather reactions, reflect and continue the development of the work in Athens. At the heart of the performance is the event itself – the meeting between the performer, the object and the viewer. I am interested in the spectacle in the original sense of the word: not just a performance, but a moment of heightened perception. I hope it will generate curiosity, uncertainty, emotion – something that will remain and perhaps grow with time.

How did the collaboration with Fanis Katechos come about? What attracted you to this collaboration and what do you think you offer each other artistically?

It started simply: he asked me. Just as I had once asked my own teacher for something. That's how many of the most meaningful collaborations begin: with a simple question, an act of opening up. What drew me to Fanis was his passion and respect for art. We share a language – not literal, but physical and intuitive. We challenge each other in a good way and complement each other's strengths. There is a generosity in this collaboration – and that is rare.

Has your relationship with "presence" changed over the years – on stage and off? What does it mean to you to be truly "present" in a moment?

Yes, it has changed profoundly. I used to see presence as something technical: specific steps, techniques, and strategies for staying focused and steady. Over time, it has become something more substantial, something more silent. Now, presence for me means being fully alive, not "acting like" but simply being. It is a form of listening, both internal and external. Presence cannot be faked. And while technique can build structure, true presence occurs when structure dissolves.

Donald, how do you balance the deeply personal and the collective in your work? That is, between the inner, personal truth and the shared, universal myth?

All my work starts from a personal place. That is the only truth I can fully defend. But performance is also a shared act, and collective myths—symbols, archetypes, rituals—have the power to connect us beyond our differences. When a personal story touches a collective memory or a shared cultural point of reference, then something powerful happens. The challenge is to remain honest while simultaneously opening your inner world to others—not to dull it, but to transform it. When this succeeds, the experience becomes both intimate and expansive.

If you could talk to yourself back when you first joined Odin Teatret in 2006, what would you say to him? Or what would you ask him?

I would say to him, "Be patient. Be humble. And listen." I would remind him that this is not a place to prove anything, but to unlearn and relearn. I would ask him, "Can you stay open, even when you're not sure? Can you embrace not knowing?" And I would also say to him, "The journey ahead of you is not linear. Trust the process. Trust your body. And trust the people who challenge you the most. Those are your greatest teachers."

Without revealing too much, could you share with the readers of The City Lives a moment from the rehearsal process that served as an artistic, emotional, or physical rupture for you?

One such moment occurred early on at Odin Teatret, during a short rehearsal-hosting. I instinctively brought in four large stones. Their size, weight, and presence immediately changed the space. They were not just props, they were collaborators. They demanded physical engagement and opened up new dramaturgical possibilities. This moment reminded me of the importance of tangible materials, how they can transform thought into action and metaphor into experience.

Is there a central image, memory, or question that acts as an anchor, as a central backbone, as a motif, if you will, in the performance about Sisyphus that we will see on September 26th?

Yes, they are the stones. They are both real and symbolic. Their weight, their silence, their resistance – they become the ground of the performance. They suggest work, memory, monument, weight and play. Their materiality forces us to act differently. They shape the rhythm, the space, the choices. They are not decorative, they are essential. They are the heart of the entire performance.

The show premiered in Poland before coming to the Athens Festival. How do you imagine it will resonate differently with each audience and what do you think remains universal, regardless of language or place?

Each audience brings with it its own cultural context, its own expectations and its own way of seeing. In Poland, there may be a historical filter; in Athens, as is perfectly natural and logical, a different mythology. What I hope remains universal is the multi-layered structure of the play. If the audience does not understand the words literally, there are images, rhythms and actions that communicate beyond language. I believe that emotional resonance, physical storytelling and symbolic action can transcend borders. This is the theatre I seek, a theatre that speaks many languages, even in silence.

Info:

Fool in the Full Moon – Donald Kitt | 13th HRTFest | Tickets online! | More.com (20/9)
"Sisyphus – flesh and earth" – Fanis Katehos | Fabrica Athens | 13th HRTFest | Tickets online! | More.com (26/9)
Donald Kitt's seminar here (25-27/9)

Translated from Greek by Google

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