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"Torn Echoes"

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Artist
Statement

What happens when your reflection is shattered by a choice that wasn’t your own? This piece is born from the raw testimonies of families living in the shadow of conviction. It explores the silent sentence served by those left behind. Inspired by the lived experience of families of the convicted, this piece explores the chaotic aftermath of a life-altering event.

While society focuses on the perpetrator and the victim, the families of the accused are often cast into a vacuum, navigating a unique intersection of grief, duty, and public shame.

The movement explores the duty of the family, the heavy, invisible weight of staying loyal while the world demands you turn away. Moving between the grace of ballet and the raw intensity of lyrical dance, I use a mirror to track the journey from shock and shame to strength and reclamation. The mirror is central to this piece, symbolizing the fractured identity of the family members. The mirror serves as both a witness and a bridge. It reflects the person before the news, someone that can no longer be found and eventually the person that perseveres and overcomes.

The choreography utilizes a lyrical-ballet style to physicalize the internal whirlwind experienced. A sudden shift from controlled, linear movements to chaotic, high-energy movement mirrors the collapse of a stable reality. It is an exploration of the duty we feel toward family, the whirlwind of public judgement and the courage it takes to find a new version of yourself when your world has been torn apart. It shows the process of integrated healing where the person eventually reclaims their reflection, acknowledging a life forever changed.

This dance is a tribute to the families who find the strength to keep moving through the storm, proving that even in the aftermath of tragedy, we can eventually look in the mirror and recognize our new resilient self, staring back.

Analysis

Kyla touches on several key theoretical constructs in her artist statement, and draws on experiences from many of the stories we heard. The title “Torn Echoes” conjures images of shouting in a cave, hearing your voice return to you over and over, dissipating in its repetition. Imagine those echoes being broken or suddenly interrupted, not being able to find or hear your own voice. The unsettling sensation this would provoke. Losing yourself in the chaos of this experience. My first impression watching her dance was an emotional one, not only because I haven’t seen her dance in over a decade, but because of the movement and the music and how they worked their way into my body. I could feel the heartbreak, the struggle, the chaos, and the control. I wanted to dance too, I wanted to hold her, I wanted to feel connected. 

She begins by asking what would happen if our reflection were shattered by a choice that wasn’t ours. She’s really asking, what happens to our identity within this lived experience? We are constantly negotiating our identities in relation to the world around us (Hogg et al., 2004; Tajfel & Turner, 1979), and experiencing something beyond our control that impacts our sense of identity can be particularly troubling. Kyla draws attention to disconnection that can lead to isolation and a sense of powerlessness. Drawing on Tompkins (1962) and Morrison (2006), shame and similar emotional states occur in the disconnect. It is when the crime has occurred and one is sitting in the wreckage, feeling othered, and trying to make sense of it all, that one stumbles into this experience of alienation. Because social identity and self-categorization can occur based on minimal criteria (Tajfel, 1970; Rathore, 2025), the line between “us” and “them” becomes thin for folks caught in a storm of in/justice, creating ripe opportunities to experience quick and even jarring shifts in their sense of belonging. 

Kyla’s word choice of “silent sentences” and “shadows of conviction” touch on the contextual nature of the social construction of victimhood (Strobl, 2010) and draw back to ideas around appropriate or deserving victimhood. In the context of trauma and harm, Pemberton (2016) suggests victims are often examined for character flaws, resulting in a fundamental attribution error (Elliott, 2011; Heider, 1958; Ross, 1977; Sabini, Siepmann, & Stein, 2001). Of course, the one who caused harm is torn apart and scrutinized by the public. It would seem a similar experience extends to relational victims, like when Kristine’s mom said people look at her like she did it herself. Or when Abby states, “I wasn’t the one on trial, but I might as well have been,” making a clear statement about the salience of the “us” versus “them” mentality characteristic of social identity and its mobility (Ellemers & Haslam, 2012; Tajfel, 1974). Most folks choose to believe nothing like this will ever happen to them. There has to be something wrong with a family where someone would do that. It’s natural to push away things that cause discomfort, and relational victims do seem to make others uncomfortable. Subliminal or overt, relational victims recognize (consciously or unconsciously) and internalize this experience and it impacts their sense of belonging. 

Trauma also affects a person’s sense of identity, leading to questions about our roles, goals, values, and beliefs; the makings of individual and collective identity (Berman et al., 2020). Given trauma can create a lens through which we filter the world around us, it stands to reason that one might look in a mirror and not recognize the person staring back at them, as Kyla performed. Dependent on the closeness of the relationship to the person who has caused harm, event centrality will be impacted to varying degrees. Claudia, who attended her brother’s trials but made sure to enter last and sit at the back has an entirely different experience than Stan who only met the post-incarceration version of his son-in-law. For Claudia, the harm caused by her brother was very central to her day to day life, impacting across all constructs, and throwing her into a whirlwind of court obligations, family turmoil, and a deteriorating marriage. It took 10 years for Claudia to begin healing, again highlighting ‘event centrality’ as impactful on her trauma recovery, as supported by Berman et al. (2020).

Relationships within her family unit fractured in numerous ways, creating deeper experiences of isolation and loneliness. Emotion for Claudia is a controlled experience – personal and private; she even mentions emotions being managed within the family unit. At another level of abstraction, we manage emotions at a community and societal level as well. Kyla speaks to this tension by combining the softness and grace of ballet with the controlled and even chaotic rhythm of lyrical dance, mentioning in her statement “internal chaos” and “the collapse of stable reality.” She focuses on the complexity of the experience, even mentioning intersections in her statement. Duality plays a major role in this complexity. At any given time, several emotional states can be occurring simultaneously (love/grief, loyalty/isolation, shock/realization), leading to a state of discombobulation, as Kyla so beautifully danced. 

Integration and reclamation also stood out to me. There are clear breaks in Kyla’s performance, signalling this major event, the loss (of ‘before times’ in every way), and then an arc where hope begins to build. Hübl (2023) explains that our connection to one another and our perceived safety and belonging are contingent on maintaining the thread of our cultural narratives by addressing unhealed and hidden trauma. When Kyla begins to soften and then the energy rebuilds [at 1:25], the movement becomes flowing, not fighting; the dynamic shifts from sorrowful to hope-filled. This aligns with the shift that occurred in each of the stories, though the shift is never the same, always non-linear, and never-ending. It is in healing, whenever it happens, and whatever it looks like, that we again find glimpses of a gentle life. Where it really begins to take root is in the integration of healing. She reaches for the mirror to find that new reflection, and she mentions a reclamation of self, though it is marked by change. This beautifully depicts the magnitude of relational victimhood, while providing hope that one’s life will grow around the tragedy. 

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