Theatre Beyond Borders

“Art will always find a way to break through and create something new”

Ozlem Ozhabes – theatre director, performer, and lecturer on theatre’s power to challenge society and inspire change.

1. How did your visit to Pakistan come about? Also give us some insight into your play.

I live in Abu Dhabi, and recently, one of the World Culture Festival organizers and the technical team members named Azaib invited artists to participate. He personally approached Bill Bragin, the curator and director of the NYU Abu Dhabi Art Centre, who then recommended my play. Azaib contacted me and extended an invitation to participate.

The play is called Subj:medeA and it tells the story of a goddess who is betrayed by her husband. In her act of revenge, she kills all her children. As a mother myself, I am deeply interested in how society places immense expectations on women—how they are supposed to be and behave, and how they often become trapped in their homes without much support. Having become a mother myself, I’ve experienced these pressures first-hand. This inspired me to create a show about a mother who takes the most extreme, tragic action – she commits the worst possible act. I wrote the play myself, with some assistance.

• How did your journey into theatre and acting begin?

My story isn’t a typical one. I’ve always been shy and introverted. As a child, I didn’t like much attention. In high school, I was planning to study political science, and also became part of a youth group. We spent a lot of time in rehearsals, and I think what drew me into theatre was the collective aspect; the idea of creating something together, working on a piece not just for ourselves but for the sake of art. The trust and transparency required to connect with twenty people at once felt like magic to me. That collaborative nature is what kept me in love with theatre.

I then studied dramaturgy and became part of a theatre company, assisting with directing, working with lights, cleaning stages – you name it. The collective spirit of theatre is what continues to inspire me.

• Why in particular did you study feminist dramaturgy?

I didn’t feel the need to call myself a feminist until I became a mother even though I consistently defended women’s rights. So, the question for me was: what’s wrong with calling myself a feminist? If you look at theatre history, it’s full of male names—male characters, male perspectives, male-dominated viewpoints and behaviours. Unless you explicitly call it feminist, you’re not making a statement. Would I simply call it feminist? No. What I hope for is a world without discrimination, where everyone is free, and where everyone including professors, understand their boundaries. On the stage, we often need to raise consciousness. I wish feminism was irrelevant, and my play didn’t exist but, in my performance, here, I had audiences from Algeria, Pakistan, Mozambique, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Ukraine and other countries, and I realised how much these themes resonated across different cultures. It’s so relevant that I feel I have to explicitly call myself a feminist.

• You have been involved in diverse projects across different countries including Florence, London and Turkey, and now in Abu Dhabi. How have these experiences shaped your storytelling methods?

In Florence, I mainly taught, and I found that Italian actors are very happy and expressive. In Turkey and the broader Middle East, restrictions on what stories can be told and what can be openly discussed influence the form of storytelling. Stories and subtleties often become less important, and bigger concepts take precedence. In London, the environment is driven by capitalism, technology, and a fast-paced culture and you have to learn the rules quickly, know your place, and understand which plays or roles are accessible.

Though my heart still beats in Turkey, I find places like Abu Dhabi or Pakistan, where I’ve only been for a short time, share a similar curiosity. I see in the students’ eyes the same questions I had at their age.

• You’ve directed a wide range of plays, from classics like Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream to contemporary works. How did that come about?

These aspects are a key part of my teaching practice because theatre of Turkey has historically been heavily reliant on translated texts and classics. Therefore, students need to engage deeply with these texts and learn how to position themselves within them. Moreover, these texts are considered “classics” for a reason—they resonate universally. They offer students an opportunity to view them as exemplary works from the West, and within them, students recognise elements of their own histories, families, and peers. Once students begin to see their own histories reflected in these texts, the works start to truly resonate on a deeper level, transforming them from distant classics into meaningful reflections of their own lives.

• Photo Credit: Anna Jopp
• You started Datça Theatre Summer Camp and have been the director of ACT, a project focused on artistic freedom. What inspired you to start them?

I am someone deeply obsessed with systems, yet I also believe that systems are inherently destined to fail. Despite their inevitable shortcomings, systems can produce something meaningful and inspiring over time. Hence Datça, a two-to-three-week camp, was my attempt to bring together various acting techniques into a cohesive approach. Later, I linked this to a core principle: it’s all about the artist – finding vulnerability, embracing fragility and discovering freedom. We engaged in intensive training, working with nature, classical texts, and monologues through clown work and Linklater method. It was about discovering creativity through extremities and pushing boundaries. ACT, a youth theatre, is particularly significant because it touches on the culture of theatre in the country. Instead of simply teaching young people what to do, we empowered them to create—giving them agency. The initiative aims to train youth as future change-makers and trainers, bringing together participants from three cities: Diyarbakır, İzmir, and Istanbul. Politically, it was especially meaningful to gather young people from different regions and backgrounds to hear their childhood stories and building connections.  

• According to what you’ve observed so far, what are some of the strengths and weaknesses of theatre in Pakistan?

I haven’t seen a lot of Pakistani work, but what I have seen is very powerful. It reminds me of my students in Turkey. However, I’ve noticed that most of the directors’ names are male. As a feminist, I believe that to truly strengthen any artistic field, it’s essential to hear women’s voices and perspectives.

• What are some of the skills that you consider are essential for an actor?

Reading texts, understanding what you read, and delivering it effectively from your positionality – these are essentials. Take Hamlet for example, he is a 17-year-old boy struggling to make sense of the world, and then he loses his father. The image of that father, and the uncertainty surrounding it, deeply influences him. To portray Hamlet convincingly, you need to grasp his dilemma and interpret his lines with empathy. Delivering the text isn’t just technical; it’s about knowing where your centre is.

• Considering how rapidly technology is transforming entertainment and communication, how do you envision the future of theatre and performing arts? Do you think theatre risks becoming obsolete – especially among younger generations?

I am quite skeptical about technology, yet I try to remain hopeful. The most progressive shows I’ve seen in recent years come from very young artists in Belgium, Amsterdam, Tunisia, and Iran—where they have created immersive experiences that are quite wild. For instance, audiences might be blindfolded and have to touch objects or engage in sensual experiences, lying down while performers approach them and communicate. You see, as human beings, the more we distance ourselves from direct contact, the more our need for connection persists.

Yes, just like the industrial revolution, this technological revolution is also frightening as this is leading to a dangerous disconnect. Today, we see children suffering and dying, yet we seem indifferent, only witnessing it through screens. If humanity isn’t strong enough to unite around these issues, then theatre becomes just a trivial addition.

But I recently saw a show in Avignon by a Portuguese director: a father and daughter, presented in a very theatrical way in its classical sense. The daughter moves to Mars without telling her father, and they exchange voice messages. It is theatre in its simplest form – two people communicating through voicemails. But it had a huge impact on everyone in the audience. That kind of work gives me hope that even if it’s not theatre, it will be something else because every era creates its own art form. Art will always find a way to break through and create something new.