Inspired by · every other year since 2005 · Muladhara Studio, Zürich
Final edit in progress
She trains you to be an archaeologist of your own body — reading its layers until you find the precious knowledge it holds.
I first saw Priska on the pulley tower in 2005, during my Gyrotonic pre-training — I didn't know what I was looking at yet, only that something was possible in a body that wasn't possible in mine. Nearly twenty years later, the sessions with her have been some of the most technically precise work I've experienced: not because of complexity, but because of preparation. A dancer who keeps gathering movement languages without ever being boxed by one, she constructs the conditions and lets the sensation arrive. She's also why I began studying Yamuna Body Rolling in 2020 — one recommendation from her was enough. What came through in our last session, in summer 2024 — the hip and rib distinction, everything I'd absorbed through FT and Pilates finally settling into a single felt sense — didn't feel like learning. It felt like recognition. And more than anything, she leaves you treating your body as something precious.Where to train in Zürich — the city guide →
I go back to Priska every other year, and it's still the most precise movement work I know — not because it is complex, but because of how completely she prepares the ground. She came to movement as a dancer, with a BA in dance theatre from London's Laban Centre, and never stopped gathering languages for it: Gyrotonic first, then Garuda, Yamuna Body Rolling, Aerial Yoga and Aerial Slow Motion, restorative touch and sound baths, all grounded in Traditional Chinese Medicine. What stays with me isn't the range; it's that none of it hardens into a system. She co-founded STORM and teaches at Muladhara from her own sense of movement rather than any technique's grid — endlessly curious, always in her own practice, working in German and English, and (as her studios put it) sensitive, humorous and profound. Her precision is quieter than it is technical: she builds the conditions — props, sequence, positions, her own placement — so the sensation you need has nowhere else to go. And she leaves you treating your body as something precious: not a machine for performance, but something that carries its knowledge in layers, to be met with humor, grace, and respect. It's fitting that Priska wears an ink-glyph instead of a headshot: she trained where movement was first written down — London's Laban Centre — and our logograms are a pocket-Labanotation, each method boiled down to a few strokes so practices read as one language, not rival logos. Her dot even sits at a bearing from London, where she first learned to read movement.
First Impression: The first time I saw Priska was on the pulley tower in 2005 — I was there for Gyrotonic pre-training, not yet a client. I didn't understand what I was watching. She wasn't doing anything that looked effortful or dramatic. But the legs were moving in a way that seemed completely free — and slowly I understood why: the pelvis wasn't moving. Not slightly less — not at all. The legs had the freedom they had because the base had the stillness it had. I had no name for that yet. Only a very clear image that stayed.
What I Felt: The summer 2024 session opened at the ribs and hips simultaneously. The ribs came in carrying old Pilates knowledge — not false, but rigid. They had an answer for how to close, how to breathe, and they weren't willing to question it. The cue I'd carried for years was to knit the ribs shut so they wouldn't flare; here it was almost the reverse — let them open a little, open without flaring, so the breath had width to move into and the upper corset engaged from space, not clamp. The hips had no such certainty: almost no proprioceptive landmark, no visual confirmation available, just micro-sensations in territory I'd never been asked to explore. Priska's sequence didn't fix one then the other. It opened both in the same breath — the ribs releasing what they'd been holding; the hips finding something they'd never been asked to find.
Breakthroughs: Halfway through that session, something I hadn't expected happened: FT decompression breathing — which I'd practised long enough that it had become embodied — started converging with what Priska was asking. Her sequence began the same way, then diverged into hip-closing instead of rib-closing. There was no intellectual reconciliation needed. The body could feel where the two were pointing. Different systems, absorbed at different times, settling into a single orientation. That's what she called decanting — when the pieces stop competing and simply settle. It didn't feel like learning. It felt like recognition.