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BIRTHLAND
Good Girls Don’t Talk About These Things
by Mina Petrić, in collaboration with Venia Stamatiadi & Eleni Apostolopoulou

Eleni Apostolopoulou and Venia Stamatiadi collaborate with playwright Mina Petrić to create the theatrical piece BIRTHLAND: Good Girls Don’t Talk About These Things. Rooted in lived experience, the play centers on how a woman artist is treated during pregnancy.

In the film Good Girls Don’t Talk About These Things, Beatrice plays a woman who is at risk of losing her job because of her pregnancy. However, as filming progresses, the characters begin to unravel, the story collapses, and the script starts to resemble her own life more and more. Can fiction really come so close to reality?

A note from the creators
How openly do we talk about workplace discrimination that women face due to pregnancy? How often are abortions not a choice, but a forced decision to keep a job? How freely do we speak about the difficult sides of motherhood?

The play Birthland: Good Girls Don’t Talk About These Things speaks to and about women who struggle to decide whether or not they want to have children. About others who regret the choice and can’t even admit it to their own reflection. About time—how it ticks by and turns against you. About that looming NOW OR NEVER that weighs heavily on women around the ages of 35 to 40.

Because even though many of us now choose to walk away from social expectations, we still carry the anxiety. About our jobs. About whether we’ll have a family—and what shape that family will take. We constantly face dilemmas.

We believe this anxiety is something our whole generation feels. And we wanted to write a play about that: about the fear of trying to remain professionally active while facing the question of motherhood. And whether a child can grow up happy in the midst of all this chaos.

I Am the Reincarnation of Sylvia Plath

A woman, in a kitchen—though a different kind of kitchen. Because in this kitchen, nothing is being cooked. Perhaps only a suicide. After all, she flirts with death every day. But before she makes her decision, she must first confess what weighs on her.

And manage, for once, to reach completion—since in sex, she never quite does.

And to share some of her psychological traumas with her vibrator.

And to try to understand why her body, and her very existence, feel so profoundly lonely.

And to do a little sexting.

And to watch some of her favorite films.

And to leave behind a will.

And to write a few songs.

And to not ask for one last kiss. From someone who might be worth dying for.

As open as we’ve become as a society on issues that were once considered private, the stigma around our emotional and sexual difficulties remains insurmountable. We speak easily about our physical health, but we still find it incredibly uncomfortable to talk about anxiety, depression, our sexual entanglements or fantasies, or the uncontrollable sense of futility and loneliness.

“She” – with sharp humor and raw honesty – satirizes the digitization of sexual life, the power of trauma, the deep roots of patriarchy which, no matter how consciously we now try to cast it off, has already—subtly or obviously—defined us to a large extent; and the fear of what we most deeply desire: the exposure of our true selves and a deeper connection with another being. Or two. Or three. Or countless.

“Is there an app where people can cuddle to sleep? Just for a night, a one-night nap. And in the morning, each goes home or to work, wherever they want. No strings attached—you just show up in your pajamas, we lie down, and sleep holding each other. We might not even exchange names, not even say goodnight. But we hold each other like we’ve known each other forever. There isn’t one? What a shame.”

Through the desperate “baring” of her most hidden and unseen sides before an audience—without fear or shame (after all, she’s probably going to die right after)—she discovers that there is beauty even in the darkest places. Because the more we accept them and share them, the more we step into the light. And then we see—we’re not really that alone.

“I Am the Reincarnation of Sylvia Plath” is a work that references Sylvia Plath. A work inspired by Sylvia Plath. And a work that is certainly not just about Sylvia Plath.

Change: Method
A stage adaptation based on the eponymous book by Édouard Louis

It’s evening. We are in a room, filled with books, papers, and notes. In this room, a young man is trying to write. He wants to become a writer. Suddenly, another young man appears in the room, deciding to help him remember his past. The two men dive into the memory of the first one. Through this dive, we travel with them from a village in northern France to Paris. The young man who wants to become a writer will remember his high school years, faces, and situations that marked him, but mainly the process of reinventing himself and the need to escape from his past. From the beginning of the narrative, we realize that these two men are the same person. The self that wishes to become a writer is the present self, the self that wants to evolve, to move forward, while the other is the past/teenage self, a self filled with guilt and fear of the future, the self that would like to stay and constantly blames the present self for the people and places left behind. The conflict between the past and present self is inevitable.

Édouard Louis’ book, Change: Method, served as the starting point for a journey with Dionysis and Konstantinos, exploring the concept of identity in its broader sense, including sexual, class, and social identity, and how a personal story can take on social and political dimensions. Through this story, we follow the personal struggle of a person to change, to transform, to evolve, and to escape from their past.

Directorial Note:

We were not all born with the same opportunities, and not all of us were born in privileged environments. Some people come into this world learning to live under conditions of degradation. The story of this boy, from a poor family in a village in northern France, gives voice to these social classes and people who have a pre-determined and difficult future. Although I was much luckier than this boy, his story speaks to my heart, because which person doesn’t ultimately want to be loved? Which person doesn’t want to be accepted by others? Who hasn’t felt different from others, even once, at some point in their life? Who doesn’t want to find their place in this world? Only inspiration, strength, and courage do I draw from this story that Louis offers us, to move forward, to evolve, and to change myself as well. And perhaps one proof of this is the fact that I am making this performance.

I will close with a quote from Sartre, in which I believe the essence of the play Change: Method is encapsulated: “What matters is not how they made you, but what you do with what they made you.”

Eva Fraktopoulou

Important Note
Entrance is recommended for individuals aged 16 and above.

(I am) The Labyrinth 2.0

After a highly successful run with continuous sold-out performances, I am The Labyrinth returns for a limited number of shows, inviting the audience into an experience unlike any other.

I am the monster, I am the myth, I am the Labyrinth.

Directed by Riginos R, 14 international performers invite you to step into the heart of the narrative and immerse yourself in Europe’s oldest myth.

I am The Labyrinth enacts, experiences, and embraces this descent, guiding the audience through the threads of art—dance, poetry, video installations, and music—leading to the depths of the human soul. As the myth’s red thread unravels, the audience is drawn into an initiation, a journey of discovery through spectacle and experience.

The Labyrinth manifests as an expression of the collective subconscious and its mystery. Entering and solving the Labyrinth is an archetypal initiation into the self, culminating in the encounter with the Minotaur—the symbol of the ancient, the unknown, and the deeply personal. The monster within us lurks, and the exit illuminates the journey.

I am The Labyrinth invites you to surrender to an experience that leads through unpredictable, dark paths. Here, love, power, and myth converge to awaken the deepest and most unspoken aspects of our being. The Labyrinth and the Monster embody our fears of the unknown, of the forbidden. This ritualistic, immersive performance places the human body at its core—a body that narrates, records, desires, and suffers. It seeks to penetrate the Labyrinth while simultaneously searching for the way out. The Labyrinth becomes an experience for the audience.

What to Expect

• Strictly for adults (18+) – Contains intense scenes of violence and sexual content.
• Complete darkness, loud music, and intense lighting.
• Direct interaction with performers.
• Recording is strictly prohibited—this is an experience to be lived.