“Triangle” is a performance by three artists in three different places during lockdown: Gisela in her garden, Judith in her studio, and Ursula in her living room. Nobody else knew about the performance except for Judith’s partner, Gisela’s partner, and Gisela’s parents.

We all start at the same time. Gisela is climbing a dead tree, Judith is listening into the space of her studio, and Ursula is stepping into a 2 x 2 meter square. Gisela is thinking of Judith and Ursula; Judith is thinking of Ursula and Gisela; and Ursula is thinking of Gisela and Judith.

Gisela: I climbed the trees, disappeared into them, got stuck with my hair in them, floated between their branches, rose above their crown, spent time in them, next to them, put a discarded cover of a tree trunk on my head, threw it into the branches, took it as a shield, swayed with it in the wind, experimented with gravity, walked around the trees with an obsolete computer, braced myself against the trees, hopped next to them, tasted the bark with my tongue and rejoiced in the encounter with the so-called old and discarded.

Judith: I let myself be guided by a chair, the space, the sound. A light green metal chair, I pushed it over the floor. The sound could be drums. Dragging, groping, going along a wall like a drawing. The room is full of reverberation, sometimes loud, somtimes quiet. The sound of a spoon, a large one, a little one and the sound of a scoop - different they are, different they sound.

There are sounds that trickle down my back, others caress me. A contemplation.

Ursula: I demarcated a 2 x 2 meter square with measuring tapes. I traced the outline of the square by placing one foot in front of the other, moving very slowly. It took me two hours to walk once around the square. 2 m is the distance the government suggested to stay away from others during the Coronavirus.

In “Triangle” we use the lockdown and its measures as our protagonists. What remains: when is a performance a performance? What makes a performance be a performance?