Engaging with the world brings emotional chaos. And this engagement is, for me, the premise of being an artist.

Not really. I see it as part of the job description: feeling a lot and being able to express it.

It depends heavily on the role. The beauty of the profession is exploring different directions. Sometimes it comes instinctively, sometimes I need more time to find it. It’s fascinating how you assign emotions to a certain situation – and that the logic of a character can be completely different from your own.

Always. Every role is enriching. In the film How to Be Normal, where I played a bipolar character, I had to dive into extreme emotions and cross boundaries of shame. Even though it took some effort at first, I also found freedom. I learned that the world doesn’t end if you embarrass yourself in front of a lot of people. On the contrary, it shows how much we limit ourselves in everyday life.

I wouldn’t say I find myself in them, but I always put a part of myself into each role. Every character reveals a new puzzle piece that broadens my perspective on the world.

For example, in How to Be Normal, there was a scene where I had to play a manic attack in the middle of a busy street in Vienna – on a Friday night. I started with a big, embarrassing move. I threw myself against a window because I realized: to make it authentic, I have to give up control – even control over how I am perceived. Especially as a woman, this is an important experience, because we often force ourselves into “packaging.” In reality, we can’t be wild enough.

Yes, absolutely. Acting is like a catalyst for me. I can release and channel everything that occupies me. If I don’t act for too long, I get restless and start looking for problems where there are none. I’m a little emotional junkie – I always want to act.

Paradoxically, grief and hope. Grief in the face of the crises we live in and the disappointment over failed visions and dreams for our world that haven’t come true. But also hope and love for the people around me who actively work to counter the fatalism that often accompanies grief.

For me, it was a moment full of warmth and hope. When people take action together, you feel that you can make a difference. The opposite is doomscrolling at home – it makes you feel powerless and lonely. Taking action is the best way out of powerlessness and fatalism.

Absolutely. For me, these aren’t separate areas. I’m an artist who engages with the world. That’s reflected in my roles, as well as in interviews or open letters.

I don’t see that as contradictory. I wear my heart on my sleeve, but at the same time, there’s a lot happening inside me that I don’t always give public space to.

Very mixed. Right now, it takes a lot of effort to remain hopeful amid all the crises. The more you engage with political discourse, the more you notice what could still go wrong. That’s why I focus on the good people and beautiful things in life. So much is still possible, but we mustn’t isolate ourselves – we have to stay together.

Don’t let the bad things take away the love and beauty of this world. Take care of each other – and of the people around you.