What Does Culinary Art Practice Mean?
Food and dining have always been accompanied by an element of communality, storytelling and oral history. I have always perceived food and its traditions as a unique tool for cultivating empathy, care and togetherness. This article aims to prove that connecting performance art and food does not only mean a snack between acts. For many years, I have been fascinated by how food communicates in theater and how it can become the main character. This field of performance art has flourished especially in Western countries (Netherlands, Belgium, UK, France etc.) where the colonial pasts and the coexistence of diverse diasporas call for the importance of mutual respect and listening. Local political spheres also provide financial support for cultural projects that aim to foster community, promote inclusivity, and enhance intercultural understanding.
My time in these countries gave me a glimpse into this practice which not only relates to interculturality of course. Later on, my interest deepened, thanks to my collaboration with the Bazaar Festival and their We, The Landscape residencies which focus on international collaborations, connecting artistic, scientific research, and ecology. It allowed me to meet amazing artists and new-age culinary witches, who gathered due to a summer project for the festival Harvest, curated by Markéta Málková in Rezi. Dance Komařice.
Suraia, a passionate and wild spirit soul lives in Uruguay now, and she is the creative force behind a water kefir drink brand Convida in Uruguay. She is also a sensitive anthropologist whose film documentary on Lebanon's culinary traditions continues to inspire me deeply. Heidi, with her sparkling laughter, limitless spontaneity and respect for natural processes amazes me with her knowledge of foraging and fermentation. Her ability to cook with what nature offers taught me to skip the “mind shopping" and firstly look around. And then there's Asli, a bold and tireless artist whose amazing scientific knowledge of the chemistry and analytical processes of cooking has been a great source of learning for me.
Together, we could talk endlessly about the human relationship with the landscape and the rich resources it provides. Not to mention the geopolitical and social dimensions of food systems, which subtly influence our traditions, cultures, and the roles of women, particularly within the context of globalization, consumption, or underlying patriarchal structures. Performance art is a powerful tool for addressing these topics and as these three unique artists explain, it can connect people and shift perspectives on urgent issues.
Thanks for the depth of the presence of the week, connecting with nature, care and slowness. Lying in the forest, observing the trees, foraging, fermenting, burying sauerkraut in the soil, and of course, sensing with all the capacity of our bodies. All of that is still macerating in me.
artists at residency at Rezi.dance Komařice, credits Magdalena Malinová
Stories of the landscape
Magdalena
Asli, you talk a lot about how food connects to politics, the environment, and our history. How do you think food art can help people reconnect with the land or their roots eventually?
Asli
I ask how the trends of what we’re eating and how we’re eating it are influenced by consumerism and digital media. A lot of stories and histories are being erased or not talked about because of these major forces. Most of my work starts with diving deep into research on specific locations, often looking at agricultural systems, natural challenges or even the political side of food production. I use cooking and performance to create experiences that people can connect with on a personal level. Food is such a universal, inclusive tool; it has this amazing ability to bring people together. And when you approach it with care, creativity, and even a bit of playfulness, it sparks meaningful conversations and understanding.
Magdalena
How do you see the tension between respecting the land’s history and traditions and the ways humans dominate and change it?
Asli
I lived in Holland for twelve years where a lot of food is grown indoors and this builds a different approach to eating habits and production. Everything happens in such a controlled environment. In some parts of the world, access to food is limited and people have to depend on technology to secure enough to eat. These shifts deserve more attention, especially in cities where people are often disconnected from natural cycles of growth and harvest.
At the same time, it’s hard for me to see how some people are losing the motivation to work toward sustainable, high-quality food production or cooking. The landscapes are constantly evolving. Change is necessary but we also need to stay connected to the history and knowledge rooted in what’s locally available.
Magdalena
Do you observe differences when you research and create in bigger cities or when you focus on the countryside?
Asli
In rural areas, people have free will to take part in food systems depending on accessibility. In cities, food supplies and care for the land are more hidden. I often explore how the governments and agricultural policies decide what needs to be planted and how architecture shapes these spaces based on demand or necessity. For instance, I have been researching beer production in Belgium, particularly the specific area where Kriek beer originated, which traditionally used fermented cherries from the trees located in this area.
This area no longer has cherry trees, as they were all cut down to make way for housing. Now the production involves importing cherries from other countries like Turkey. It is then brewed in Belgium and labelled as Belgian. I wondered then, what defines ‘locality’ and how we define it today in complexity of systems and migration. Following these research questions, I created a lecture performance and dinner to talk about these topics.
Magdalena
Could you tell us more about the project?
Asli
In this project called Yeast Invasion I immersed audiences in the world of yeast. The installation consisted of a lecture performance around the subject of Belgian Lambic beer through a beer-making demonstration, an interactive conversational dinner, a Beer Spa consisting of a beer bath made up of beer leftovers, as well as a Beer sweat lodge.
The audience was invited to experience Belgian beer history through physical interaction and critical conversations. With a pinch of satire, I redefined words such as “locality” in the complexity of food systems. As an antidote to nationalism, I propose fermentation practices to raise questions around cultural history, locality, tourism and the dogma of economic necessity. I was a fictional tour guide hired by a new beer museum. My goal was mainly to convincingly portray the beer experience. So, the beers I brewed were labeled with the most honest and transparent information around the origin of the ingredients.
I also shared information on how systems of production function in the beer industry in Belgium. For instance, it does not allow small beer producers to malt their own grains anymore even if they grow it next to their breweries. The system is set up to favor bigger operations, it is designed to spread out the production process so that the other players, like transport companies and malting factories profit from it and in this way everything can be in close control. In these complex systems, sustainability is not even in the list of concerns. As long as there are factories, big companies that support employment and create taxes for further development, everything works as it should in a capitalist economy.
project Yeast Invasion, credits Alan Dimmick
Screened at the Glasgow Film Festival at the Centre for Contemporary Arts (2022-2023) and later at Mediamatic in Amsterdam during the Taking Roots Festival (2024)
Back to the roots
Magdalena
Suraia, what does performativity bring to the culinary field? And what is your experience as a chef in fine dining?
Suraia
My family moved to Uruguay from Lebanon, and later, I moved to Madrid, always feeling connected to the Arab world but never fully identifying as Latin American in the beginning. There are always deep emotions and memories tied to food, especially for families with migration stories like mine. Eating connects many dimensions and migration is one of them. It can encourage exploration of what it means to be a stranger, to uphold traditions, or to experience transformation through the daily embodied act of eating. Food is a gateway to exploring and understanding these layers of society through tasting, preparing, discussing, and feeling. Performativity can draw attention to what is untold, unseen or forgotten.
As a chef working in various restaurants, my work has always felt focused on serving pleasure to those who could actually afford it. I craved to find connectivity not only with people but the ingredients and kitchen utensils which also hold amazing stories. I believe in reciprocally sharing knowledge, in learning from others. After my performances, I always gain insights from people who ask questions or offer feedback, creating a shared space and stories that might not be found on Instagram.
Magdalena
Asli, your mom moved from Thailand to live in Turkey with your dad. How did the migration history of your family influence you?
Asli
I am still inspired by how my mom turned the challenges of adapting to life in Turkey into a source of creativity and strength. There was always so much caring for others in her. She always grew plants and vegetables in our garden that came from places where she had lived before. The call to care comes so strongly when one falls. Also, my father was so fascinated with other cultures, crafts and history, having lived in Europe and Asia for so many years. I feel like I have a broader perspective on the world because they taught me so, allowing me to have education among diversity of cultures and existing among people with migration histories. It's rooted in who I am and how I identify myself away from nationalism but with an appreciation to my ancestors that draws me to a greater understanding of myself and curiosity to the histories of others.
Magdalena
Heidi, you studied at the Theatre Faculty in Prague and your practice comes from “the other end”, how do you perceive the context of food and theatre?
Heidi
Opposite to audio-visual storytelling in theater, food introduces a physical and sensory element that directly engages the body, emotions, and thoughts. Performativity in culinary artistic practice shows a lot about our embodiment. There is a certain way food communicates with us; it goes straight to the brain, and I really like that. It's a skipping of a certain rationalization of perception.
Between tradition and transformation
Magdalena
When we talk about cultural traditions and customs, food is an inseparable part of them. How do you relate to them?
Heidi
Being Czech and Slovak, I see nice discussions coming up in our family because of the small cross-cultural aspects we share. When it comes to celebrations and feasts, it makes us think about what we actually want to do with traditions. We can ask what feels alive or dead and how we can respect them or make them new. It’s not just about following them because everyone else does. The confusion brings playfulness and creativity instead of just repeating and confirming things.
Suraia
Being part of the Lebanese diaspora in Uruguay, I’ve noticed how much our traditions anchor us, but I also question what they really mean. When I discovered this huge community of Lebanese-Latin Americans, it opened my eyes to how our culture has transformed here. People often dream about dancing Dabke, making Kibbeh or holding onto symbols like the mortar, but it’s not the same as back in Lebanon.
We’ve lost the language and so much of the connection to what’s happening there today. In Uruguay, Lebanon and other Latin American countries are often romanticized; people cling to these nostalgic, untouchable memories of the past. But I find it troubling how no one seems interested in the struggles the country faces now or the contemporary Lebanese art. My work explores this tension of how traditions evolve, how they resist change, and whether they connect us to our roots or just freeze us in a version of the past that feels safer.
Magdalena
I think tradition can very easily be something nourishing and revitalizing, but it can also be such a killer that perpetuates the art or just our mindsets in various dead connections which were already there.
Heidi
I also question how you can keep tradition, especially in food which has such a huge impact on climate change and globalization. The planet is burning so basically; it means people can now grow kiwi or figs in Slovakia. (Heidi laughs)
Suraia
Food is also such an anchor and certainty, therefore, for so many people, it’s the last thing on earth someone wants to transform. Traditional food makes you feel at home. It’s re-living roots and past which is not rational, it’s connected directly to unconsciousness and body.
Asli
I was researching the Turkish diaspora in the Netherlands as I was already quite immersed in their community at that time. Through cooking, like making raviolis, I saw how food became a way for them to hold on to their identity, even in small details, like choosing a specific butcher for the right meat. Food is a personal act of pride and connection, reflecting both the struggle to integrate and the strength in proving their culture.
Suraia
In many cuisines, every step of the process holds meaning, and changes can spark passionate debates, especially in non-European traditions. I’m fascinated by how food builds identity, adapting to new ingredients - like how Lebanese kibbeh incorporates chili in Mexico.
Asli
Is the Lebanese food Suraia in Uruguay really different in every home?
Suraia
Yeah, each family comes from a different village and different locations have different traditions.
Asli
I found the same reality with the Turkish communities in the Netherlands.
Suraia
And do you know what is funny? The Lebanese diaspora in Latin America is called Turkish. (everyone laughs)
Magdalena
I like this bizarreness and these cultural twists and how people often get things so wrong. Asli, I remember you talking about wanting to use more humor in your work, what do you think about that?
Asli
I’ve been thinking about how to bring comedy into my performances. Celebrities, like Jamie Oliver, for instance, teach a lot of Asian cuisine to a Western audience with a lack of authenticity and understanding as I would put it. This gap between intention and cultural reality is problematic and bizarre and I’d like to work with it. Also, Nigella Lawson once tried to demonstrate Vietnamese rice paper rolls while commenting: “It’s supposed to look kind of like this.” Her rolls ended up weirdly flat and it all looked so stupid and improvised. I’d like to play with this mix of comedy and misunderstanding. Imagine me, with my Turkish and Thai background, standing in the Netherlands teaching a “traditional Dutch dish” with satire. (Asli laughs)
Food is deeply tied to culture, but it’s also shaped by economic demands, consumerism and global shifts. Thai coconut milk, once a staple, is now often replaced with cheaper alternatives by locals while Westerners perceive it as an exotic and must-have ingredient. This fact reflects a deeper transformation and I want to explore where the boundaries lie between tradition, living rituals, and rigidity, all through the absurdity and accessibility of comedy.
Magdalena
Could you tell us more about this performance that everyone in our group is talking so enthusiastically about? How do you use comedy and elements of the bizarre to emphasize serious social and political issues?
Asli
Massage Parlour is an interactive installation inspired from a massage salon. Guests come in expecting to receive a massage but instead, they are told that there aren't enough paid workers to provide this service as human labor is too expensive so the massage parlour now provides AI instructed self-services. Participants are guided into this "self-led massage experience," where they give and receive massages by bacterial and yeast collaborators. There is a recorded instructor who leads the audience to proceed towards a common pineapple “bath”.
Participants have to step and work on pineapples to rejuvenate their feet while squeezing the juices. The collected pineapple juice would then be bottled in fancy bottles as a high class probiotic product called Tepache. The audience is also given an alternative to choose from which is a pineapple liquor made by an imaginary tribe from rural areas of Thailand. The label of the liquor would promote it in such a way that the survival of the tribe would depend on their sales of foot-massaged authentic Pineapple liquor.
I’m curious about how to build communities through shared bacterias and yeasts, such as dining or sharing a bath together. It is indeed thought-provoking to talk about these boundaries after Covid as there is an obsession with hygiene. The idea is to produce cognitive dissonance, as it is questioning boundaries and inner thresholds; where is one’s personal boundary around sharing a bath with strangers or eating living cultures of strangers? Is there a common language that speaks to a consumer in order to convince them into consumption or participation? By taking inspiration from commercial advertising techniques, I like to challenge the audience to think about what, how and why we eat what we eat.
project Massage parlour, credits Alan Gimmick.
Presented in Maastricht and other locations, research in collaboration with Het Nieuwe Institut in Rotterdam (2020)
Fermentation
Magdalena
Throughout our week of creating together, you’ve shown me so much depth about fermenting and how much we can learn about slowness, time, and collaboration. I’m curious to hear more about what you think about the co-partnership which we have with microbial life. In a globalized world, yeast communities adapt to new places and circumstances. What is fermentation reflecting mirroring for us?
Asli
Watching yeast and bacteria break down sugars into carbon dioxide, creating bubbles, or transforming starches into organic acids and amino acids has always felt like more than a chemical process. It has mirrored how humans transform, affected by the spaces we inhabit, the weather, politics etc. What happens in a pot during fermentation; humans transform and adapt depending on where we are placed, how we’re displaced, and what we are matched with. It’s all about relationships, between the food, the microbes, the space, and us. Food is not just nourishment but something personal, it’s a great parallel to the human matters of migration, exchange and transformation.
Magdalena
Could you share with us what this specific way of yeast dough fermentation means to you as we, in the Czech Republic, have a rich tradition of sourdough baking?
Asli
Receiving a sourdough starter is more than yeast and bacteria; it’s like carrying a piece of memory and experiences. These cultures hold the essence of a place and bring it to new ones, creating connections across time. Like where is it coming from? Where did it travel? Who did you meet along the way? A starter that’s been nurtured for years feels like a piece of history, and there’s a certain romance in that idea.
In the project called The sourdough revolution, I dehydrated my 7 year-old sourdough starter and gave it away in an interactive installation for people to take home. I asked the audience in return to fill out a questionnaire where I asked a few questions about their possible relationship to it and why they picked a certain dated sourdough starter. Over 900 responses came in, some people felt a personal connection to the starter, some said they want to be eating healthier, while some only wanted the manual regarding the information on sourdough starter so they could make their own at home as taking someone else's sourdough meant nothing personal for them. This revealed a lot about people’s views on hygiene, trust, trends and curiosity.
Magdalena
I appreciate how food processes can reveal and expose societal structures so subtly, showcasing the diverse motivations behind them. Heidi, what's your relationship to fermentation?
Heidi
Fermentation helps me deal with time. It’s something I can start and wait for, even when I’m traveling. It’s like a supportive community that you can nurture at home, providing something that gives back when you care for it. Fermentation becomes a resource, something you can rely on. Just feed it, and it will keep giving you support. It’s like a collection of devotional pets. (group laughs)
Asli
How do you manage the co-partnership with your sourdough or fermentation cultures, especially when you travel a lot? They need care and attention, so how do you handle that responsibility?
Heidi
Sometimes it feels like a partnership. If I neglect them, they change their taste, almost like they’re giving me feedback. I’ve learned to take them on adventures too! When I was in Norway, it was so hot, and I didn’t want the starter to get too warm, so we’d take it swimming with us. I always make sure to keep my sourdough in a small jar, so it’s easy to take with me.
Every time I feed it, I experiment with different flours, which makes the taste change over time. When I came back to Cove Park residency last year, I brought my sourdough along, and it was exciting to combine it with Asli's. This year, we returned with the "offspring" of our cultures, living and thriving together. When I get back home, I make two jars - one stays, and one goes with me. If I fail with one, at least I have a backup. It’s a constant cycle of care and it’s fun!
Magdalena
Do you share these kinds of stories of travels when you're sharing the bread or during your performances?
Heidi
I guess I'm a weird believer that when you eat it, you can get along with it. Bread performs in you. You don't need to hear about it. But of course, some people love stories.
Magdalena
The concept of time, waiting in the bacterial world and the way how we relate to them, I find a lot of poetry and romanticism in it. Fermenting or baking teaches us about patience, love and the ephemerality of nature. When we give it time, food can act as a catalyst for fermenting certain knowledge and emotions. As wise director Agnes Warda says, "Awareness is the purest act of generosity." As thoughts enter the mind and food enters the body, it is more intimate than we think.
But let’s move on. The elements of poetry are strongly associated with the use of food. I take this to mean that food enriches the imagination or the connection to different places. Why is the site-specific nature of your creations important to you rather than creating in black box?
Heidi
Eating creates a special connection to the landscape, it’s like an inside-out awareness where the land becomes part of you. I find it a unique mode of consciousness that ties you to the place where the food comes from. Food is always connected to your body and emotions. No one else can tell you how it feels or tastes. It’s raw and immediate, sparking a personal reaction and giving you something to say right away.
Suraia
I think it’s crucial that when you engage with a particular place, you immerse yourself in the local community and their knowledge, understanding who they are, what they eat, and why certain things, like a specific pot or the use of local fats from their animals or olive trees, hold such important messages.
project Sourdough Revolution, credits Aad Hoogendoorn
“The mouth is a stage.”
Magdalena
How do you see culinary artistic practice fitting into the world of performance art in Czechia?
Heidi
When I'm asked to create a project by different institutions or curators in the Czech Republic, we often end up with various misunderstandings in their attempt to name and target what it is that I am creating for their audience. They sometimes label it as something else, like a workshop without my approval. It's also frustrating when they don’t provide the right conditions for the work I need to do.
I always think that if I came to a site-specific performance with puppets, no one would ask if it was a performance or not. But because it's food, suddenly, it gets confusing: “So you are teaching people how to make food?” And I say sometimes, you know, sometimes we end up doing that. But sometimes we don't. I hope we will get closer to where this practice stands in Belgium or the Netherlands soon.
Suraia
Because it's not painting, it's not dancing, it's not singing, it's not entertainment. Dinner doesn't necessarily have to be just fun.
Asli
I always say that the mouth is a stage, and so is the plate. Everything you put on it carries a story, and you’re digesting that story through your body. The food isn’t just performing for your eyes or the narrative you’re hearing, it’s also performing inside you. It transforms, becomes part of your energy, and maybe even emerges as its own kind of performance.
Suraia
It's a very ephemeral process but at the same time the performative act is staying with you and your intestines. (Suraia laughs)
Heidi
Exactly! And when I try to explain all these thoughts to people around me, they keep asking me, what makes it different than going to a restaurant?
Magdalena
So, what is different?
Asli
In restaurants, you rarely hear about the land, the people growing the vegetables, the exploitation, or the social injustices faced by workers in factories. Unless you take the time to talk to the chef in the kitchen, those stories remain untold. And it's not just up to the chef to choose what to cook with, it is also the industry and demand for cheap and affordable meals. Most people are concerned with food security and it's not up to everyone to be concerned for the environment as well?
Suraia
You also embody a different role. In a restaurant, you’re simply a customer, but during performative dinners, you become a participant. You share time, space, and stories, and create a connection and reciprocity.
Magdalena
I also feel there is so much inherent performativity in our daily life, it’s just about our own awareness and attention we are capable of building in our rushy lives. For me, it depends on how much you manage to position yourself to the role of this “soft observer” or “human senser ” of atmospheres and moments around you. I just came back from India, where each second, especially around dining and food culture felt like a performance.
Asli
In Japanese culture, the dining experience is more than just eating. It’s about being part of the chef’s performance, where their movements and energy enhance the meal. I've found that in Western cultures, a lot of things need to be explained. Some things can't be explained, but you can sense them, they are there. But it's not always verbalized in an anthropological way.
For example, my mother’s way of cutting mangoes with her hands is such a fascinating performance to watch. Or, in Thailand, they pour milk tea from one cup to another to create foam. Observing hands and their particular choreography in food production is another language most often lost today or hard to find in the midst of technological gadgets.
Heidi
The way Japanese cuisine serves food, there’s this idea of the chef being gentle and slow, but in Slovakian culture, women often take on the role of organizing everything, but they’re not at the table with you. They’re working almost invisibly from the kitchen, organizing the whole mission. They’re not performing in front of you but their food performs. It arrives at the table full of care and intention and yet, you barely notice how it all came together.
Suraia
Women have always been tied to the private sphere throughout history. At home, taking care of the family, the first person to give you food is your mother, right? At some point, men took the knowledge of food and cooking from women’s private worlds and brought it into the public sphere, becoming chefs, turning it into something professional and visible. And that’s where we see this distinction: men as chefs, while women are just cooks.
Artist Suraia Abud, credits Muna Malik
“I will always labor for food with love.”
Magdalena
How do you view the labor involved in kitchen work and gastronomy, including its often exploitative aspects?
Heidi
My experience with working and talking to artists working with food shows how enormous hard workers they are, often because they also don't have any other choice.
Suraia
After twenty years as a chef, I had to stop because my body was in pain and I wanted to focus on something more meaningful, to gather people and build connections. I’ve since shifted to combining food, drink making, and wellness, exploring rituals of care and natural products like whey. Now, I’m using my chef experience as a researcher, artist, and entrepreneur. I’ve started a water kefir brand in Montevideo, hoping to prove that art and business can coexist.
Asli
I often feel disappointed when I eat outside because I can't feel the soul behind the food. I only sense the frustration of the cook. It feels like the food was made just because the business has to keep running. Even when I’m tired, I’ll still make something easy rather than go out and spend money on food that doesn’t satisfy me. So I cannot stop working as I better choose to respect myself and my body because something good has to go in there. I will always labor for food with love. It’s not only my art, my work. The hard process to go for is to see more strictly how much love and care I do for people I don't know when I execute different catering or artistic projects.
Having high standards for food doesn’t mean using expensive products, it’s about cooking with intention, awareness and care for the ones who are going to share the meal but also for the environment and the ingredients you cook with. When it comes to catering jobs or bigger culinary productions, I have to secure my needs, such as getting helpers who are fairly paid, ensuring there is a well-equipped kitchen that I don't end up moving half of my kitchen with Uber and so on. And most of the time, it’s hard to get paid for this unseen labor - my body carrying the pots and bowls before the production even starts. It also often happens that as a culinary artist, I receive a small fee that does not separate my artistic work from the work of the chef who creates the food. It often happens that there is a fairly large food budget in the project, but a minimal budget for me that they can't negotiate. So most often I’m expected to buy the kimchi from the store rather than invest time to make it and get paid for the hours of labor.
artist Asli Hatipoglu, credits Rita Couto
BIOs of the artists and links where you can follow them:
Suraia Abud (UY/LB) carries out culinary research through food anthropology, food actions and fieldwork. She is interested in food cultures and the diversity of knowledge related to agriculture, cooking and the spreading of emotions and memories connected to alimentation. In recent years, Suraia has been involved in fermentation and bio art as a very practical and poetic way to spread scientific research related to health, food ecologies and food politics. She has been studying and presenting her works in countries including Spain, Italy, Mexico, Uruguay, Nigeria, Lebanon, France and the Czech Republic. In 2024, Suraia was based in Montevideo, where she developed a brand of fermented drinks articulated with artistic projects to highlight human collaborations and critical production.
Aslı Hatipoğlu (TR/TH) and her interdisciplinary social practice focus on curating participatory dinners and installations that explore how culinary history and agricultural politics shape our relationship to food. She critically investigates human connections with the environment through the study of bacteria, yeasts and insects such as the domesticated silkworm. By researching production supply chains through performative acts, she highlights how humans impact other living organisms. After several years as a self-taught chef, Asli expanded her knowledge of fermentation during her residency at the Food Lab Jan van Eyck Academie (2020-2021). Her works have been exhibited and performed at numerous cultural institutions across Europe.
Heidi Hornáčková (CZ) is an artist, performer and curator focusing on searching for intercultural and transmedia connections while working with different communities, diverse environments and performance art. She investigates conscious and unconscious realms rooted in contemporary visual art and experimental theatre. She understands performance as a shared experience in time and space that allows for expanded opportunities for exploring perception and collective memory. Her multidisciplinary projects engage with such topics as time, place, language, ritual, dream, color, food, music and human experience in the natural and social worlds.
Interview conducted by Magdalena Malinová