Fabienne Quéméneur : I was working with a funeral cooperative, thinking about the architecture of death in the landscape. We aimed to work through the complexities of dealing with death and guiding families through their mourning in the best possible way. It was during this time that I had the opportunity to welcome Cristina into this research. This is a story about the relationship between Cristina and me, between Cristina and this place, the cooperative, and the volunteers at Au Bout du Plongeoir. Cristina was able to write stories during this period.  [...] What is interesting about Cristina is her deep awareness of reciprocity. Unlike some artists who only focus on their research and gather the information they need without considering the impact, Cristina has a unique way of working that is very focused on the reciprocity—how reality interacts with art. Over three different work periods, each involving inquiry, writing, and performances, Cristina's interactions were vital at each stage of the research.

Cristina Maldonado : Fabienne shared with me her view of the territory and her work there as a kind of notebook—like the space itself held notes and stories. I thought, "I want to be part of that notebook. I want to contribute something." So, we’re now preparing a simple device that will allow visitors to listen to this story as they walk around the space, connecting with these stories as they explore.  [...] Fabienne's concept gave me the beginning of an idea about interspecies connection—how we might approach the existence of the tree and try to connect with it by entering into another kind of relationship, almost as if we are connecting with another species. There’s more to it now, more about connecting with this "tree-hood" that we all share in some way. It all started with this story, and it has since expanded. This is the last piece of the reciprocity cycle, bringing the story back into the notebook, where people can access it through the audio.

Fabienne Quéméneur : One of the major questions Cristina and I had was about how to activate and trace the progress of the story after she leaves. This was a significant part of her work. There were volunteers, who had substantial interactions with Cristina. They’re now continuing the story at our place. They’ve taken responsibility and are actively involved. Cristina built a foundation. They’re really committed to activating this project. It’s essential to build reciprocity over time. But it’s not just about time; it’s about how your art creates space for dialogue, includes others, and considers the impact even after the artist leaves. It requires significant effort to engage with places that aren’t traditionally welcoming to art. 

Cristina Maldonado : Now, they’re creating the Festival de la Mort. I’m really excited about it. They’re considering changing the culture around this event. They have various activities, not just performances, but also smaller actions. It’s very experiential. When they invited me to the festival, I wanted to understand their purpose, and it turned out that their goals were quite similar to mine. My research has been very helpful for them.  

Marc El Samrani : When you were discussing your work with Fabienne, it was fascinating to see how the themes are similar but approached differently, both in collaboration and in the project's construction. To provide some context, I’m researching how art can create new forms of public space. I refer to Hannah Arendt’s definition of public space as a “table” around which everyone gathers, rather than a private place. I also explore how group formation can occur in public spaces, and how we can become a collective “we” without merging into a single entity. I was pleased when IN SITU proposed working on An Assembly because it addresses this subject well. I’ll avoid giving too much away, but the project doesn’t take place in an urban or outdoor setting for the initial part. Instead, it creates a form of public space within the group. It was interesting to contextualize this with your work, which contrasts direct group interactions with a more fictional or futuristic narrative that emerges during the process. It might be useful to first present the investigation and research behind your project, as it’s a three-part endeavor. For instance, I’m curious about why you titled it "A Thousand Ways" and how "An Assembly" fits into the third part of the project. 

Michael Silverstone : Sure. So, the work that I do is centered around people—regular, everyday people, as opposed to professional actors. My work is in theater, though I’m not a fan of putting things into rigid boxes. We operate within the theater form but often stray from traditional boundaries, focusing on working with non-professionals. But you know, because our work is very live and deeply connected to place and people, we faced a major challenge when the pandemic hit. Suddenly, we had to ask ourselves, "How will we continue our work in isolation?" Our work had always been about people coming together in a space, and now we were all stuck at home. We had to rethink everything—if we’re not physically at a theater making a piece, then who are the subjects of our work? What do we have left? It felt like we had nothing.  So, we pivoted and decided to create intimate experiences for small groups, focusing on the audience in a new way. The first piece we made happened over the telephone. This was during the early days of COVID, when no one was leaving their homes. [...] The project was a triptych of performances. The first part happened during deep isolation, when we were all trying to figure out what to do.  [...] The third part, still under "A Thousand Ways," involves 16 strangers coming into a room alone. There are 16 chairs and a stack of note cards with a script for the participants to use. There’s no improvisation; it’s not a game but a structured experience lasting about an hour. This setup is designed for strangers to reconnect, though it might feel a bit artificial in this context because the participants here already have some familiarity with each other.  [...] Regarding the narrative, we quickly realized that whether it was two people on a phone call, at a table, or in a room with sixteen people, they needed to go somewhere beyond the immediate reality. They needed to enter a space they were creating together, leaving the confines of the physical room. While discussing the work, the truth is that I was also working on a separate story. I was writing it alongside this project, and eventually, we combined them.  [...] The process involved a lot of trial and error. For the phone project, I conducted the phone call myself about 200 times, constantly rewriting and refining. The same process applied to the other parts, but with more adaptation. After writing the show in English, we had opportunities to tour it. We translated the show into French, Hebrew, German, Italian, and possibly one more language.

Marc El Samrani: You’ve discussed the importance of experimentation and experience in your project. This process of trying things out and making small adjustments based on context is crucial. It’s worth noting that art in public spaces is often considered highly contextual. While this might be less obvious in other forms of art, such as theater, it's clear that context plays a significant role. Your project demonstrates this beautifully. During your residency, you adapted the work for French audiences, and you saw different responses in different places, like in Marseille compared to elsewhere. This highlights how context shapes audience interaction.

Michael Silverstone : The material itself doesn’t change, but I think of it like a sponge—it absorbs the people who are involved in it. We’ve been creating shows like this for a while.  [...] The material for A Thousand Ways doesn’t change, and adapting it for each location would be overwhelming and impractical. We’d lose our focus if we attempted superficial adjustments like referencing local culture. Instead, the material must remain consistent, adapting organically during the performance itself.  [...] During the creation of the show, there were times when things would go off track. For us, the moments when things break down can be the most profound and beautiful. For instance, during a performance in New York, I was a participant in the audience. The performance involved a tall stack of note cards, with no backup plan if the stack fell. Remarkably, despite performing it around 200 times, it had never fallen—until that New York performance. When it did fall, I wondered what would happen next. In those next 15 minutes, something profound occurred. The group worked together to resolve the situation, and I found it to be a beautiful way to start over and rebuild.

Marc El Samrani : Well, to open up the discussion and maybe explore the relationship between the two projects, there's something very interesting at the end of the project. I'll try not to reveal anything, but I like the concept of the "familiar stranger" by Milgram. At the end, there's something that feels like the opposite of that—a familiar strangeness happening between people. After spending an hour in a room with 16 people, sharing intimate moments like looking deeply into someone's eyes for 30 seconds, something is created within that group. It's something that you can't really control once the project ends. So, we wanted to discuss the traces that could be left by the project—the active transmission that happens through the experience. You don’t always have control over what might happen, but you're initiating something that might lead to further developments. Cristina your project is maybe a bit different in that since there's a more intricate presence of the artist. 

Cristina Maldonado : For me, it's more about creating a framework. So, the devices I've been creating are about holding space for people to do whatever they need to do concerning this topic. The intention is also to create familiarity. From the interviews I've conducted, I've learned that we lack familiarity with this topic; we're completely separated from it. Instead of proposing new ways to approach it, just holding space for observation and offering a chance to engage with the topic seems to be enough, or at least what's possible. The familiarity with the topic comes through stories and collecting experiences, giving you time to be with yourself while listening to different interpretations and testimonies. So, creating this familiarity is also the purpose of the artwork.

Fabienne Quéméneur : It's funny because you never mentioned social psychology, but what you're describing is almost like an experiment in social psychology—understanding group behavior in a given situation. The difference, though, is that in your project, there’s a story guiding it. In many social psychology experiments, you simply put a group in a situation and observe how they behave. But with your project, there’s a narrative. I find this interesting because when I think back on this experience, what stays with me are the words, the story. It creates a lasting impression of the people I shared that experience with. The relationship I have with them now is different from others; we have a shared link through that story. Sometimes, I hear a text and don’t just associate it with the words themselves, but with the person and the experience.

Participant :  When working with these fictions, there's a fine balance between making them universal enough to resonate in different contexts. How do you find this balance, where the work remains relevant and, at the same time, universal?

Michael Silverstone : Yeah, I mean, it’s like figuring out how to say just the right thing to evoke a feeling. Part of this involves working with universal associations, like experiences we all share, these are the kinds of moments that people instantly relate to. The challenge is finding the right tactile experiences that make it easy for someone, even in a linoleum room at two in the afternoon, to jump into that imagined landscape with others. It’s a writing task: figuring out what needs to be said in the most minimal way possible. You have to be able to taste it, smell it, feel it, touch it, and know exactly what’s happening. It has to be instantaneous, like knowing you were the person who brought their child to the party. I love that challenge because I’m interested in entering fictional spaces. For me, this project is more about creating space to truly see other people than it is about “group-ness.” That’s what all my work is about—making space to see people. I like the duality of seeing someone as they are, in a black sweater, but also imagining them in a fictional sense. I enjoy this mirroring of reality and fiction because it creates a deep sense of empathy. I know you’re just here in this room, but we’ve also traveled to many places together in our imaginations. Hearing Cristinas’s talk yesterday resonated with me, partly because the theme is so universal. Right now, we’re all acutely aware of our fragility. I don’t want to speak in absolutes, but I am aware of my own fragility—of being just a tiny speck in this grand universe. Covid taught me that. It made me think about death in new ways, and also about the choices I want to make about how I live and die. Your presentation triggered thoughts about how I want things to be. Again, it’s about the aftereffect—what we’re left with and what sparks from the experience. It’s not about creating a huge fire, but maybe just igniting a small flame.

Cristina Maldonado : It’s quite interesting to talk about the two works together. I was reflecting on how, in one of my performances, I have absolute control over what happens. Everything is organized—the audios play one after the other, and there are specific instructions. When you mentioned tactile elements and the question of universality [...] We had all these stories, and people were reacting in dramatically different ways. So, where’s the universal point we can lean on? It seems like the only common ground is that we all will die, but not everyone wants to talk about it. Some people really resist. It was a learning moment for me. Over time, I realized that there needs to be a tactile element that speaks to all of us universally. There's a moment in the performance where you bury your hand for a while, listening to things before and after. It’s like a micro-cemetery with everyone sitting at the table. The tactile experience needed to occupy more space than the stories because people might agree or disagree with the narratives. But the physical act of engaging with the situation is personal. It's like a small, intimate game, allowing you to maintain some distance and not take it too seriously, but still, your body tells you something. [...] There was no direct connection to who they were, so it was a different kind of togetherness. You’re focused on yourself, but in the end, you realize you were not alone. Despite our cultural tendency to avoid this topic, even with our families, it’s possible to feel that you're not alone. Yes, you’ll die alone, but there was an energy there, a collective experience that became the core of the work—feeling togetherness in the face of this topic.

Marc El Samrani : In An Assembly there’s something very physical too. At the beginning of the show, you ask everyone to take an object and pass it through the group. It creates a bonding experience because you’re sharing something personal.

Michael Silverstone : Yeah, it’s an early thing that happens in the show. There’s something a bit off about it—handling someone’s lighter or wallet. It’s playful, but also a bit wrong, which makes it interesting. It’s collaborative, passing things around. Yes, it’s like there’s this contact with an inanimate object. It’s a bit silly, like passing around a condom wrapper, a tissue, or a giant stack of keys. You see all these different items, which introduces a kind of artifact to the experience. Objects are fascinating, and they reveal a lot about the person who carries them. Some people don’t have anything on them, which is also telling. It’s a way to connect through these small, personal items, building trust as you watch your object go around the room.

Marc El Samrani : It really binds the group together. There’s something funny about watching your object circulate while paying attention to what’s coming into your hands. The dynamics create a sense of connection within the group.

Michael Silverstone : Of course, the worst is when it’s just passing around a bunch of iPhones. This is what we’ve become. This is who we are now—we’re objectless. But for the most part, it’s great when you do have something personal. The things we carry are fascinating.

Cristina Maldonado : In one of our older performances, at a certain point, we separate the audience into two groups. We give an object from one person to someone in the other group. So, for half of the experience, you’re walking alone, knowing that your belongings are with another person. When the groups reunite, there’s something beautiful about recovering what’s part of you, knowing that someone else took care of it, carried it around in their bag. It changes how you feel about the person who carried your item. It creates a sense of caring for the other. What I wanted to say is that this place you mentioned, how can you keep it so that everyone’s imagination can take them where they need to go without closing it down? So that I can connect to it, even if I haven’t had the same experience? With death, for example, when you hear too many testimonials, sometimes you can feel disconnected. How do you create these moments that allow people to connect with their own memories and experiences, making them more fragile and permeable to others?

Fabienne Quéméneur : As an artist, you have a responsibility when you activate that fragility and reciprocity, to take care of it within the image you create. It's really important.

Cristina Maldonado : That’s why I want to have control over the structure in a very specific way. It’s about preparing the space without being direct. For example, when we talk about the testimonies, it’s not about saying, “Oh, my father died,” but rather, “How do I remember?” or “How do I connect with the memory?” There’s a dramaturgical line that starts with touching on others’ experiences, then moves closer to your own memories, your body, and eventually leads to a form of rebirth or celebration. The idea isn’t to reach a dark place we can all go to easily, but rather to reflect on how we’re living our lives, how we connect with memories, and what we do with them. 

Cristina Maldonado : There are so many different real, fictional, and imaginary scenarios that can help us reflect on what death is, how we approach it, and what it means physically and emotionally. I think these opportunities to reflect, both individually and together, are what these artworks are truly about. As you said, it's not about one size fits all. We've done things one way for a long time, but it's important to open up and consider how we can handle our deaths or the deaths of others, and how free we are to do it in ways that make sense to us.

Marc El Samrani : What’s interesting is the ritual that’s created and the bond formed within the group. At the end of the gathering, there’s always that moment when someone breaks the group by leaving first, creating a kind of void. This moment can linger, as the group decides who will be the first to go and how that will affect everyone else.

Michael Silverstone : We experienced something similar in Sardinia when we were making a project there. After the performance, we stayed out for three hours, drinking, talking, and getting to know one another. It was great—we never left each other’s side, and it created such an interesting bond.

Cristina Maldonado : I’m amazed by the meticulousness, the precision that you bring to your work. It’s inspiring to see how you refine, test, and continue exploring, creating something that resonates across different contexts. Sometimes, I feel like I’m lacking that precision in my own work, especially when it comes to making something that can travel and still be relevant.

Michael Silverstone : You have a unique challenge because your work is so much about the place and the landscape, while I’m working with a fictional landscape. In a way, I have all the time in the world because I’m not dealing with something as real as your spaces.

Cristina Maldonado : Listening to both processes, the long-term refinement and the resonance of what we create is inspiring. It’s beautiful to understand how this resonance spreads to other people and places, creating new connections. [...] The memory and connection to place are powerful. Revisiting a place creates a refrain—each return adds layers to that memory, deepening the experience. I do this in my work, coming back to a place multiple times, but I’m always thinking about how to make something transferable, something that maintains its relevance in different contexts.

Fabienne Quéméneur : And the synergy that comes from that creativity, thinking about these connections, like creating a “Café de la Mort” where people can gather, even if you’re not there.

Cristina Maldonado : Yes, exactly. I’m inspired by how your work creates these connections. I’ve started making cards that people can follow even when I’m not there.

Michael Silverstone : Cards are interesting in that they carry meaning beyond their physical presence.

Marc El Samrani : It’s interesting to see how projects can live beyond their initial context. 

Cristina Maldonado : This has been really interesting, especially in terms of sustainability and how our work can continue to evolve.