Interview: Grace Storm and Thandiwe Nqanda talk about creating Grieve, that is how you survive

Grace Storm and Thandiwe Nqanda are performing in and have written, Grieve, that is how you survive, in Cape Town at Theatre Arts from February 28 to March 2, 2025. In addition to their diverse creative expressions which include theatre (Storm) and music (Nqanda) they are accomplished poets. In taking aspects of their poetry anthologies to the stage, they have chosen the choreopoem as medium as it facilitates the transfiguring of words through physical theatre and music. Storm: “I think that theatre offers a uniquely communal space for grief, where audience and performers alike witness, reflect, and feel together simultaneously.” Nqanda: “Grief tends to feel like a spiral that is never endings, however through this work, it teaches us to look into the ways love continues to exist beyond loss and how remembrance can be an act of healing.”

TCR: How did this piece, Grieve, that is how you survive come about? You both have published poetry collections around grief and survival. Grace (Love and Other Stuff) and Thandiwe (No Time To Mourn). What prompted you to work together on Grieve – a two hander?

Grace Storm: This piece was honestly a leap of faith from me. I recall entering the concept in for the National Arts Festival merely with the idea of combining our works and adapting it into a play for stage. I messaged Thandiwe saying: “So, I’ve entered us for NAF [National Arts Festival, Makhanda] and this is the title and this is the plan for writing it.” It felt crazy at the time but I also felt that our respective work that led greatly with themes of love and grief needed to be seen on a larger scale and be offered to a different audience than just our readers. There was nobody else better that I could have imagined doing this with. And because of my background in theatre, I am always thinking about ways to bring stories to life on stage and this work was another one of those moments.

Thandiwe Nqanda: Grace and I met online and for me, it felt like a love at first sight. I was intrigued by her work and how much I related to it. We mingled and got along very quickly and at some points it almost felt like we have known each other for the longest time. The manner in which we are vulnerable to each other has made it easy to work together. We joined to create this art because we trusted each other with the experiences we shared. We continuously carry the load for each other. We had to do it together. The idea in itself for this particular project was Grace’s idea and for that I am entirely grateful that I was able to work with her.

TCR: Can you talk about why grief and survival is foregrounded in your work? Is it a response to personal situations? I am inferring that you have both dealt with loss and grief?

GS: Those two themes are definitely a response to personal experiences of loss and grief and our journeys of coming out ‘on the other side’ of grief, as we like to express. Over the past years I have lost loved ones that have really impacted my way of being in the world having to navigate carrying that grief at a young age brought me to consider a different perspective of that very grief. I looked at ways of living with it, rather than to ignore it, because ultimately grief is a cycle we cannot escape – it’s all about perspective and embracing it in its fullness, good and bad. I have seen how grief tends to swallow us whole because as a society and culture, we are not taught how to deal with loss and this play really is a meditation and consideration of what grief actually looks like, and how can we healthily understand it without drowning in it.

TN: Unlike any stage of life, grief has been the most difficult one to digest. There is an instant sense of abnormality it presents in the forefront in which has made it so difficult to deal with. I have battled with grief not only as a human being but as a first born daughter who has been expected from the time she was born to carry it well. And we all know, that is something that is somewhat unsustainable. Due to this, my pen and paper have always been my friend in times of not knowing and not being able to process. It was only due time that my experience with grief translates to this kind of project, the suffering had to make sense at some point.

TCR: Have you used your personal stories in Grieve or are there two protagonists who have been created by the two of you?  Grieve is “told from two differing perspectives”. The stories meet in the middle. Are these auto biographical stories or are they fictionalised?

GS: The characters and stories in the play are 100% true to our journey. On stage there is a beautiful intricacy of recalling the memories of our loved ones through playing them and remembering moments with them – which pivot us into this conversation with grief – as we personify her as ‘the lady who comes to visit when we least expect it’. Although Thandiwe and my stories differ in the stories told, the grief is what unites us in the middle. At its core I think that is what we are trying to achieve with our audiences, the universality of grief, and if we are able to carry it gently, perhaps it can be gentle with us in moments too. So the work is quite delicate and demanding of us as we are constantly in a dance with lost loved ones whom we hold and miss dearly.

TN: The stories are personal and they are all real. They have happened before and with the characters we present, all of them have a significant impact in our lives. The stories meet and hold each other in the entire piece.

TCR: Can you talk about your choice of the genre of a choreopoem? It is a genre which incorporates non-verbal expressions – dance and voice. Grief is a landscape in which it is difficult to talk about and of course dance and voice transcends dialogue. People often say “I have no words”. Comments?

GS: As a physical theatre practitioner, I have always appreciated the power of movement and dance to be able to communicate that which is difficult to articulate, and grief is at the centre of that difficulty. The choice of fusing both movement and voice then can serve as a multi-layered language in which we attempt to articulate and give grief a language that we can all understand. I have also considered the silencing that comes with grief – that in the audience perhaps some may have not been able to articulate or find the courage to speak of the experience and that this work may offer some relief – or guidance – to be able to find a voice, a language, a movement, a release for the grief they are carrying through witnessing this work. And of course, that the body too often holds a language that many of us understand, as we often hold our traumas and experiences in our bodies – the physical nature of the piece also offers another way of speaking, of understanding.

TN: The gravity of grief really brings one to a space and moment where words are never enough to express fully what is meant to be expressed. Sometimes breathing in a particular way and or movement of a certain sort brings one to a space where the can fully feel and acknowledge how they really feel about something. The experience of it all helps one to not rely on words to fully express themselves and that – it is and important thing that people need to be taught through this work.

TCR: The term choreopoem was coined by American writer Ntozake Shange to describe her theatrical piece, For colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf. She described the choreopoem as a fusion of poetry, music and song. Was Ntozake Shange (born Paulette Williams) an influence for both of you? Influences? Zakes Mda’s Ways of Dying?

GS: For me, Shange definitely was an influence for me. To watch the body dance to poetry and music to bring to life a story is magical for me. Thandiwe’s work on the piece as the musical composer added a much needed layering to the work, as initially in its birth, it was not an aspect I considered much. The combination of all four aspects, namely poetry, movement, music and song, really brought this piece to its fullness of being able to pay homage to the ones we lost while simultaneously celebrating the beauty of love and time that we were afforded with them. It includes a tenderness to the process of grieving that we often overlook. That we often take for granted the moments we shared and how extremely blessed we may have been to have had those moments to begin with. Part of the work for me was also very influenced by the idea of poor theatre as well as work by Lara-Foot Newton that often explores themes of grief, memory and healing.  

TN: These are works that cling and are closely knitted in what I consume and I would say that they form part of an indirect influence to this particular body of work. My musical expertise have influenced this part of the project in ways unknowingly related to what we have seen before.

TCR: Can you talk about the value of communal/shared grief, through theatre as you are doing with this piece? Reading poems about loss and grief in an anthology is very different to becoming immersed in a theatre production. Can you talk about working with the intimacy from the page of your poetry anthologies and taking that to the stage and circle back to the use of the medium of the choreopoem?

GS: I think that theatre offers a uniquely communal space for grief, where audience and performers alike witness, reflect, and feel together simultaneously. Grieve, that is how you survive transforms the intimacy of poetry on the page into an embodied, shared experience—where breath, movement, and voice deepen the resonance of loss. Unlike reading in solitude, theatre invites collective witnessing; the act of grieving becomes communal, held within the presence of others.

Working from the personal weight of our poetry anthologies, we shape those words into physical language, allowing grief to move beyond intellect into the body – where grief is often held in silence. The choreopoem as a form is vital to this—melding poetry, movement, and music to create a visceral, immersive experience. The rhythm of language meets the pulse of movement, allowing emotion to flow in ways that speech alone cannot.

This medium of the choreopoem allows grief to be processed in real-time, with the audience feeling its weight and release alongside us as performers. It offers a sense of ritual, a space to hold grief collectively, reminding us that mourning is not a solitary act, but one that requires a holding of hands in many ways.

TN: There are huge benefits this work has given us, not only the production itself but the manner in which we were able to see our work, see ourselves and each other in the process of it all. The entire process has brought light and awareness of how much we relate to each other’s work and how there are constant connections that are found through both of our collections.

TCR: How was the play received at National Arts Festival and has it been presented since then?

GS:  Going into NAF with this piece was a leap for us, unsure of how it would be received on this particular platform, outside of us respectively performing and reading our works from the page. We were so overwhelmed by the response from the audience as they carried their tears with us through the performance. The reception post-performance was incredible as many came up to us to thank us for this work – which made us realize the necessity of work like this. I think having our physical poetry also available was a nice tough for audience to be able to walk away with the work and words in their hands that they can revisit and process what was witnessed through the pages as well.

TN: At the National Arts Festival, we experiences vulnerable audiences who received the work with so much intention. We did not expect it to have so much impact also because we encountered an audience we didn’t know at all. With that, the play was well received. Since then, our intention for 2025 is rooted in touring with the play in different provinces and in the near future, in different countries.

TCR: Can you talk about the design and staging – visual and aural?

GS: The design and staging of Grieve, that is how you survive are intentionally minimalist yet deeply evocative that deliberately creates a space that mirrors the fluidity of memory and emotion. The visual landscape is shaped through subtle shifts in lighting and interaction with the objects – candles that hold a multitude of meaning. We also consider shadows and silhouettes to reflect the ephemeral nature of grief. Light is used to guide the audience through moments of loss, remembrance, and healing—warm hues evoking nostalgia, while stark contrasts capture the weight of absence or deep emotion.

The set design is sparse, allowing bodies to become the primary storytelling vessels. Movement flows through an open space, with performers using their bodies as extensions of emotion, shaping the environment through presence and absence.

The four elements – earth, water, wind and fire are recurring elements—each symbolizing different stages of grief and transformation.

Original compositions, layered with our live breath and vocal textures, underscore the poetry’s rhythm. Silence in many moments is a deliberate choice, creating moments of pause where grief lingers in the stillness. Whispers, breathing, the rustle of movement—invite the audience into an intimate, sensory experience.

TN: The general staging and design is meant to emphasis the intention of every scene, to bring about the finer details of the concept of the work.

TCR: Anything else to add?

GS: In many ways, this piece is a meditation – a gathering of mourners trying to find the other side of grief and looks at how we, together, can find the joy that resides in the memory of the things we lost, and the opportunity we were gifted with to have loved and to have felt love.

Grief should not be something we run from, but something we invite in, sit down with, offer it a cup of tea, break bread with and listen to… surely she will leave when necessary, and on her return, the joy grows as you both get to relive beautiful memories and moments had with loved ones.

TN: Grief tends to feel like a spiral that is never ending, however through this work, it teaches us to look into the ways love continues to exist beyond loss and how remembrance can be an act of healing.

✳ Thandiwe Nqanda and Grace Storm are performing Grieve, that is how you survive, at Theatre Arts, February 28 to March 2, 2025. This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.