A restrained and quietly devastating piece in which a body becomes the conduit for a lost signal. A handheld radio with its auxiliary cord spliced onto needles pierced through flesh feeds static in attempt to re-establish connection with someone beyond reach; a presence lost to death and silence. This piece rejects spectacle in favor of durational listening, framing grief not as catharsis but as unanswered transmission. It lies in the tension between hope and resignation, existing through insistence on listening when no one answers back.

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What emerges is not an experiment in technology, but a ritual of attention that slips between personal memory and collective mourning. By implementing a single auxiliary line of static, a notebook, and a shared space, the performance reveals how longing itself becomes the medium. The placement of the needles along a C-section scar is a re-tuning of another’s wound; a connection to the transfer of life through birth with one of life’s entry points re-purposed as a line for lost voices.

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Audience members are invited to tune the radio, write responses, and engage in non-verbal dialogue. Handing control of the radio to the audience the inverts the expected direction of observation and the body connecting the transmission becomes a listener to others’ interference. The notebook becomes an archive of absence, a communal ledger of whom we hope might answer if only the frequency were right. The performer’s body, silent itself, acts as an antenna for unseen communication and a living switchboard wired to longing, searching for a reply.

The real trauma here isn’t blood or pain, but the absence of a reply. For 32 minutes, the audience watches a body listen, and that waiting becomes its own kind of wound.

Some treat it as a memorial, writing to their dead.

Others address the performer.

A few take it as an experiment, trying to decode the signal.

All of them, however, become complicit in the central question:

What are we listening for?