The Alice in Tangoland journey began in the simplest way: by witnessing magic on stage.
Watching dancers who, without knowing it, were already becoming the characters of this story in the back of my mind.
That’s how inspiration often comes to me.
I see an artist, a movement, a moment that makes the rest of the world disappear, and I just know: there’s something there.
Some people have that rare gift. They slow down time. They draw you back to yourself, effortlessly.
And still... as certain as I felt that this was it, I thought:
Seriously? Another Alice in Wonderland? How original…
But as I dove into the creative process, deeper questions emerged:
What did I see in Alice?
Why has this strange story lived on for generations, captivating readers and inspiring countless directors across time and culture?
And how could I make it mine, while still respecting its essence?
I reread the original books, again and again.
And slowly, I began to understand their magic.
The nonsense, the absurdity, it’s not there to confuse us. It’s there to set us free.
It gives us permission to see and feel exactly what we need.
It’s such a generous story.
At that time, I was going through deep personal change.
And I felt like Alice, except falling down the rabbit hole felt more like falling into the deepest parts of myself.
That changed everything.
I started seeing every character in the story as a part of me, parts that just wanted to be seen, heard, acknowledged.
And then I asked myself:
What if my Alice didn’t fall into Wonderland?
What if she fell into herself?
What if all the characters she meets aren’t strangers but fragments of her own psyche?
Parts she’s been running from. Parts she’s simply forgotten.
So I gave each character a deeper role:
The White Rabbit became Anxiety.
The Flowers, Vanity and Pride.
The Cat, Playfulness.
The Hatter, Creative Madness.
And others followed: Curiosity, Sensuality, Consciousness, Wound, Wound Protector…
As Alice meets them, she resists—just as we do when confronted with the parts of ourselves we don’t like.
Until she realizes that the only way through and out is acceptance.
Embrace.
Which is symbolised throughout the piece with the tango embrace.
That’s how Alice in Tangoland was born.
Not from a script but from a feeling.
An urge to explore the inner landscape and give space to every part of it.
Each character becomes a mirror of the self .
The writing process began with sensations I couldn’t shake,
a visual, a piece of music, a dancer, a circus artist, a character that spoke to me ,
in Silence.
I build worlds without words,
where movement becomes language,
where poetry lives in the body.
And like the original books, even though this piece is deeply personal,
my hope is that it gives the audience that same freedom:
to embark on their own journey.
For Alice in Tangoland, I combined the intensity and passion of Argentine tango with the freedom and magic of circus arts.
Not just because they’re my favorite forms to work with
but because when performed by artists who’ve truly mastered their craft, like the incredible cast of this show,
these art forms come alive.
A constant dance between structure and surrender.
And rather than bringing tango and circus into Alice’s world,
I brought Alice into theirs.
That shift created a whole new visual language,
something fresh, and unlike anything we’ve seen before.
As a visual artist, I’ve always been drawn to colorful, extravagant settings.
You could say I embrace a kind of maximalism: more is more.
In Alice in Tangoland, every costume, prop, and scenic detail was crafted with that philosophy in mind.
The show is carried by a powerful, eclectic soundtrack,
weaving together vintage tango classics, modern tango composers,
the raw energy of 70s rock (think The Doors, Janis Joplin),
and the bold poetry of contemporary jazz which supports the circus acts greatly..
It’s truly a one-of-a-kind sonic journey.
One of the gifts of Alice’s story is its familiarity.
Audiences already know it.
There’s no pressure to “understand.” or follow the plot , which gives the opportunity to leave the brain out of the equation for once .
That opens a door to be carried into the deeper layers of the piece.
And my intention with this piece is exactly that:
To create space.
To offer people a moment to feel.
To go on their own journey.
To fall into their own rabbit holes.
It’s not only about entertainment that brings joy , though it brings that too.
It’s about creating a moment in time
to experience a wider spectrum of emotion.
If someone leaves the theatre feeling a little more whole,
a little more alive,
a little disturbed, even,
or simply with a sense of release—
Then this piece has done its job.
And the incredible team of artists who bring it to life, on stage and backstage,
they get to put their talent at the service of something greater.
And they do , every single time.
Anaïs .