The delicate one of Kalnų Slėnis Justina Kasiulytė

The delicate one of Kalnų Slėnis Justina Kasiulytė

Justina Kasiulytė

In 2015, I graduated from Šiauliai University with a bachelor’s degree in Theatre and Film.

My first job was touring performances for younger children — work that taught me to improvise and create within given circumstances.

“Hey, Mouse, where’s your tail?” The costume didn’t have a tail. “Seriously?! No tail?”
(I start spinning like crazy and panicking.) “Hmm… I must have lost it when I climbed the skyscraper.”

Or when you play the first show of the day, you know three more are coming, you’re still sleepy — but at the end a little girl runs up, hugs you, and says: “I love you, froggy!” She asks you to come sing in the morning, a bunch of them hug you from all sides (someone standing on a chair even hugs your neck — you feel you’re about to topple over). And then you realize that bodyguards aren’t for show — stars really do need them.

When you say, “Now let’s all hug a friend,” they all rush onto the stage to hug us. Children’s imagination always amazes me.

The most awkward moments were when you’re changing and kids eagerly run in to watch. It’s like you shatter that little bit of magic. But once, while I was getting dressed, a
child asked a friend, “Where’s the froggy?” And he, without thinking, replied: “In the suitcase.”

There were also moments when they’d run up for a photo and ask, “Where’s the Mouse?!” And when you answer that he’s in America, they get upset and walk away. Or they start chanting patriotically: “Lietuva!!!”

Once, after a performance, a shy girl came up to me and placed something in my hand, only saying: “This is for you.” Through the frog head I couldn’t quite see what it was. It looked like a bracelet. I froze. I asked three times if it was really for me, if she was sure. The girl just smiled timidly and ran off. When I opened my palm, I found a little watch — old, with a few stones missing, but so special. One part of me rejoiced, and the other immediately started crafting a plan for how to return it if her family noticed it was gone.

Sometimes I felt like a zoo animal — everyone walking by points at you, giggles, and you wave back… After a show, a kindergarten teacher tries to convince the kids to touch you: “Look at the little frog! What a dress (they’re feeling it), what a bow, what little legs — just like a real frog! Touch her, children!”

It was a job through which I found the most wonderful friends. It felt like every morning I traveled across Lithuania with friends, lived through countless lovely moments — and even got paid!

Since 2022, I’ve been working at the Kelmė Little Theatre (Kelmės mažasis teatras) — and I’m incredibly happy here. As the saying goes: find a job that brings you great joy, and you’ll never work a day in your life — that is exactly how I feel, and I am so grateful!

I’m thrilled to collaborate: I had a joint project with the Žemaitė Public Library of Kelmė District Municipality (Kelmės rajono savivaldybės Žemaitės viešoji biblioteka), during which I recorded readings of poems by Regina Biržinytė.
Book link: https://www.kelmeszemaitesvb.lt/regina-birzinyte-eilerasciai/

In cooperation with the Tytuvėnai Cultural Centre (Tytuvėnų kultūros centras) we created the performances “Erinijos” and “Liudvikėlio kerštas” (both directed by A. Stulginskienė).

I’m currently collaborating with the small partnership “Kalnų Slėnis” — what are we up to? Come and see! I look forward to meeting you!

A bit more about me — I’m interested in psychology, and sometimes, when inspiration strikes, I write.

Poems

When the rain falls into your heart,
it falls quietly — no one hears it,
you watch the world through a shard of glass,
and it shatters, turning into mist:

When you want to run and shout out loud,
to whisper softly in someone’s ear:
you are the dearest thing I have,
I love you, I value you, I cherish you,
but you must help me,
reach out a helping hand…

But people’s faces are all the same,
they fade, they pale — you don’t get what you want,
you start to run again, quickly,
time won’t wait, you have to hurry.

You look for people, but find only sand,
hot, unfeeling — and you merge with it,
you cry: I love, I want, I can —
your words turn into a road,
you’ve changed your fate…

Your story is only beginning,
it will go on for a long time, without ceasing,
as long as rain keeps falling into your heart,
and your eyes burn, searching for something…

Be yourself, but change,
don’t let anyone lie to you.
If you’re 25 and unmarried —
it means you’ve had many cats.

Dress up for a man —
surely you don’t want some “mushroom.”

Be yourself, but change,
and don’t display too many feelings.

Be modest and refined —
you’ll get a husband without a beard.

Look straight, walk around,
but don’t undress others.

Image is already half the work,
you don’t want a clueless lad.

Take criticism like treasure —
in line with the thickness of the wallet.

Time is ticking, hurry up —
you do want to get married.

And if you don’t — no problem,
such is a woman’s lot…

Aunts and grannies hiss,
they don’t really care at all.
When the cuckoo called (or to Grandfather),
you say: then the cuckoo called.
You say she knew they weren’t just being taken away.
That exile was forcing its way into the wagons,
and homes were left without the scent of people.

I didn’t know you then,
but when I hear a cuckoo — my blood trembles.
As if your spring were inside me,
frozen, but not forgotten.

Sometimes I dream — you walk through the forest.
The stribai cut down trees with scythes, but you stand —
holding a handful of soil in your palm —
your own roots.
I hear your voice:

— My child, I survived.
We survived.
No one will take that from us.

The dream fades — I try to call out once more:
I want to remember you not from photographs —
but from the heart, from what you endured in silence.
Your survival — lives in me…
(The dream recedes, I’m still trying to push my way back into it.)
When I stand firm, when I do not tremble,
when I hear what silence meant back then…

But the dream is gone. I wake with tearful eyes and whisper like a prayer —
when the cuckoo calls again —
let it count not the years,
let it count our memory,
for we survived!

Roles in Theatre

Roles in Amateur Theatre

Roles in Film

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