The Seat of Me at Riverside Studios: An Intimate Solo Journey of Memory and Belonging
The Seat of Me at Riverside Studios is an intimate solo performance written and performed by Giulia Innocenti, directed by Katie Posner. Blending personal storytelling with live music inspired by Edith Piaf, the show traces Giulia’s journey across cities, languages, and versions of herself, asking how identity shifts when home is never quite fixed. At its heart is a simple question about belonging, explored through memory, movement, and sound rather than spectacle.
Giulia begins by placing a single wooden chair centre stage and sitting down slowly, as if testing whether it will hold her. A warm amber light settles, and the room stills. That chair quickly becomes more than a prop: it’s a café seat in Rome, a rehearsal room perch in New York, a pause taken mid-life. The show builds from this quiet, grounded moment, inviting the audience into a space that feels personal rather than performed.
What works immediately is the precision of the storytelling. Innocenti doesn’t rush. She lets silences land, often holding a pause just long enough for a thought to surface before moving on. When she asks, almost to herself, “Am I enough?”, the line lands because it’s earned, supported by stillness and eye contact rather than emphasis. The lighting shifts subtly with each memory, never calling attention to itself but gently shaping the emotional landscape.
Music plays a crucial role. Piaf’s songs emerge at carefully chosen points, not as decoration but as emotional punctuation. A change in posture, a hand resting on the chair’s back, or the way Innocenti leans into a melody communicates as much as the spoken text. These details give the piece its texture and keep it rooted in lived experience.
The show unfolds at a reflective pace, allowing moments to breathe and memories to settle. That unhurried rhythm suits the material, encouraging the audience to sit with the stories rather than move quickly through them. By the end, the chair remains where it started, but it feels transformed, carrying the weight of every place and version of self that’s passed through it.
The Seat of Me succeeds through restraint and clarity. With minimal staging and carefully chosen details, it creates a quietly resonant portrait of movement, memory, and self-recognition that lingers long after the final note fades.
