#2. Dance Review: Clap & Slap

#藝遊

Dance Review for Spring Forward Festival / Springback Academy 2026

Clap & Slap

Agnietė Lisičkinaitė & Igor Shugaleev 

Would you blame me for the election I didn't vote for?

Lithuanian dancer Agnietė once joined the protests in Vilnius; Igor, from Belarus, stood on the front lines of the 2020 Belarusian Protests. In 2022, as Russia’s invasion of Ukraine began, the tension between these neighboring nations reached a breaking point.

On stage, the two confront each other over a metal barricade, their faces reflected on the monitors on the floor. They discuss their nations over eating McDonald’s burgers. Igor asks, his voice calm without aggression: "Would you blame me for the election I didn't vote?" Agnietė pauses and says, it’s not just you, but 'you'—the people. As citizens of the same nation, don't you bear responsibility? Couldn't you have done more?"

They begin a duo with the metal barricade, a physical negotiation between protesters and police. Even though the stage lacks the literal danger on the streets, the relentless momentum is undeniable. On screen, an old man leads the audience in a clapping exercise. "Like your left palm kissing your right palm," he says. Igor and Agnietė demonstrate, then begin slapping their own backs with one hand, leaving a deep red stamp on their white skin. One strike after another, the marks darken—like stamps of a ballot. Thousands of votes decide a nation’s future; even if you didn't vote yours, the mark is still branded upon your back.

They lead the audience in clapping once more. As the tempo accelerates, laughter and excitement ripple through the crowd. Following the rhythm, the dancers turn to face each other. The "kissing palms" strike each others' cheeks. Slap. Slap. Slap. One after another, the passionate applause fades into a stunned silence. Clapping suddenly feels like a backhanded slap to one’s own face—painful, crimson, and unarguable.

The piece concludes with a series of narration of reality. Agnietė continues her activism and creation in Vilnius. Igor, wanted by the government after the protests, can never return to Belarus; he hasn't seen his mother in five years. Living on temporary residence permits across the EU, he has no place to call home. With an emotionless tone, he asks Agnietė, who holds an EU passport: "Would you marry me?"

—

That night, I stayed up researching the histories of Belarus and Lithuania. Since 1994, Alexander Lukashenko has ruled Belarus, abolishing term limits to remain in power. Some Belarusian nationalists (Litvinists) claim the medieval Grand Duchy of Lithuania as their rightful heritage, viewing modern Lithuanians as invaders. Lithuanians, naturally disagree, asserting their sovereign identity rooted in a distinct culture. The capital, Vilnius, having changed hands so many times, is still seen by some as "theirs." Igor, too young to vote in 1994, stood on the front lines in 2020. Some of them flee to Vilnius after the violent crackdown.

Whether it was the applause during or after the show, I sat on pins and needles. History repeats itself in parallel across different times and spaces. Whether you vote or not, the red mark is ultimately a collective karma, that branding on everyone’s back. The line between a round of claps and a slap in the face is thinner than we dare to imagine.

–

Clap & Slap

Agnietė Lisičkinaitė & Igor Shugaleev 

Would you blame me for the election I didn't vote for?

立陶宛舞者 Agnietė 曾參與首都 Vilnius 的示威遊行；白俄羅斯舞者 Igor 則親身站上2020年反獨裁抗爭的前線。隨著2022年俄羅斯全面入侵烏克蘭，鄰近的兩國也同時進入緊張狀態。

舞台上，兩人抓著拒馬對峙，地上的螢幕映照各自的面孔，聊著兩國現況，吃著麥當勞漢堡。Igor 語氣平和，不帶攻擊性地說，「你要為了我沒能投票的那場選舉怪我嗎？」Agnietė 停頓：「不是你，是你們。同一個國家的你們不用負起責任嗎？不能再多做點什麼嗎？」

兩人以拒馬過招、僵持，體現抗議者與警方的斡旋，雙方都在尋找破點。舞台張力自然不比現場，但那股向前直衝的能量始終強悍。老人在影片中帶動全場練習拍手，「想像掌心與掌心接吻」他說。Igor 與 Agnietė 單手向後，用力甩向後背，在各自白皙的背上拍下深紅的掌印。一次又一次，紅印越來越明顯，形同蓋下選票的章；千千萬萬人投下的那張票，決定了國家的未來。即便沒投票，印記依舊清晰烙印在背。

回到拍手，兩人再次帶動觀眾拍手。隨著頻率加快出現笑聲，觀眾開始興奮躁動，兩人順著節奏轉身面向彼此，下一秒，手掌親吻上對方的臉頰，成為耳光，一道一道甩在對方臉上。激情的掌聲褪去，觀眾瞠目結舌，掌聲是反手甩向自己的耳光，痛，紅，卻無可反駁。

舞作終結在一串現況的闡述。Agnietė 在 Vilnius 投身各種示威行動，持續反抗與發聲；Igor 在抗爭後被國家通緝，再也無法回到白俄羅斯，已五年沒見到母親；這些年來他陸續獲得不同歐盟國的庇護，領著有限期的居留證四處停留，無從久居。他以不帶感情的語氣，對著擁有歐盟護照的 Agnietė 說，「那，你要跟我結婚嗎？」

—

看完演出那晚，回到房間的我撐著睡意研究白俄羅斯（Belarus）與立陶宛（Lithuania）的歷史。白俄羅斯在1994年由獨裁者盧卡申科當選總統，任內廢除了總統不得連任三次的法律，一路統治至今。中世紀的立陶宛大公國由白俄羅斯民族利特溫人（Litivinism）建立與組成，如今白俄羅斯認為他們才是立陶宛的合法繼承人，將現代立陶宛人視為侵佔者。想當然爾，立陶宛人民才不這麼認為，他們堅持立陶宛大公國是以立陶宛民族與文化為核心來建立的主權獨立國家，無論文化或民族認同都早與白俄羅斯大相徑庭。歷史上多次易主的立陶宛首都 Vilnius，始終有人認為是they的。

1994 還尚未成年投下一票的 Igor，在2020年站上白俄羅斯反獨裁抗爭運動第一線，然而行動最終在政府暴力鎮壓中失敗收場，當中的許多人也流亡至 Vilnius。不管是演出中或演出後的掌聲，拍手的我都如坐針氈；歷史總是如此相似，在地球的兩端平行上演。不管有沒有投下那一票，那道紅印終究是共業，烙在所有人的背上；掌聲或耳光，僅是一線之隔。