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- VERMILION's TEXT -
[Communique: 08.26.03]
I am moving to Poland on September 17.
[Communique: 08.16.03]
Blackout.
Thursday 4:11pm to Friday 2:40pm.
It's surprising which aspects of the city are immediately dependent on electricity and which are not. The lights go out, but this doesn't matter until the sun goes down. The A/C stops working but things are far hotter than when you simply don't have an A/C or it breaks, because fans don't work either and there's nothing cold to drink. There is a period of running down, when cars and cell-phones and laptops still work that were "filled up" before power was lost. And of course the city changes. Our technology isolates us so much from each other and from natural forces that it takes a very rare event, like a blizzard or a blackout, to bring neighbors together in a common experience.
I remember being surprised at first that all the buildings were still here. Just the realization that if all human activity ceased suddenly, if all biological and technological electrical impulses stopped, the buildings would still be around for a long time without us.
I spent the day sweating and sleeping, reading Boal and Grotowsky. Boal pisses me off with his ridiculous Marxist oversimplifications of reality, reducing all of human culture and meaning to mere superstructure for the means of production. Grotowsky is similarly elitist and judgmental, dismissing most of civilization as fakery and sham. Both of them are brilliant and inspirational. Is it necessary to judge the world so strongly and callously in order to produce truly radical work? Isn't it possible to let go of bitterness and still serve as a radical warrior poet?
What I find most stirring in Grotowsky is his seriousness. I long so much for seriousness life and theater -- there is so much all around me that does not seem serious. For me seriousness has something to do with carrying around a sense of how big the world is, a sense of perspective and weight, but that may just be my own personal way to find seriousness. The opposites of seriousness are frivolity, triviality, woopiness, denial, refusing to question deeply, being spoiled... To be serious is to constantly reevaluate the meaning of your life. To confront reality. To face the endless questions.
I remember the first time I saw someone - Ani Difranco, "Subdivision"
Seriousness means asking the question every time. [Communique: 08.11.03]
This book attempts to show that all theater is necessarily political, because all the activities of man [sic] are political and theater is one of them.
Those who try to separate theater from politics try to lead us into error -- and this is a political attitude.
In this book I also offer some proof that the theater is a weapon. A very efficient weapon. For this reason one must fight for it. For this reason the ruling classes strive to take permanent hold of the theater and use it as a tool for domination. In so doing, they change the very concept of what "theater" is. But the theater can also be a weapon for liberation. For that, it is necessary to create appropriate theatrical forms. Change is imperative.
... First, the barrier between actors and spectators is destroyed: all must act, all must be protagonists in the necessary transformations of society. This is the process I describe in "Experiments with the People's Theater in Peru." Then the barrier between protagonists and choruses is destroyed -- this is the "Joker" system. Thus we arrive at the poetics of the oppressed, the conquest of the means of theatrical production.
- Augusto Boal, Forward to Theatre of the Oppressed
I keep thinking of Chery teaching us folk dances in Intro Dance. Something of that was stirred up in me when Joanna started the warmups at Double Edge with a group shaking movement, everyone in a big circle, and eventually transformed it into a folk dance. Something very important is there and I'm pretty sure that it's precisely what is missing from both the Actor's Studio and the Ecole Lecoq.
Central is the idea that everyone can participate. I first encountered this idea in theater with Bread & Puppet and was never satisfied with its results. I went to a one-hour "Theater of the Oppressed" workshop at the NYC Social Forum last year and found it uninteresting. Always I have steered away from the idea of working with children, with labor unions, with the unskilled. Yet at the same time I have more and more avoided working with "actors" because of all the shit that brings with it. As a result of this paradox I have ended up quite without performers, and am now thinking of revisiting The Dark Ages (solo performance) because there is no one I want to direct.
Maybe this was the central ambiguity that appeared in both neverland and the desert. I didn't want to work with "normal" actors. Only with great reluctance did I put a listing in Backstage magazine, and I was always looking in auditions for people who were something other than actors. I was looking for "real" people, in other words I wanted people who seemed to have some kind of stake in life. The trouble with the people I think of as "actors" is that they don't seem to have their own personal high stakes at all. I was reading today that Lecoq said: Commedia has nothing to do with those Italian troupes who export precious entertainment. It's about misery, a world where life's a luxury. This is quite the opposite of the impression I have gotten from Lecoq babies like Theater de la Jeune Leune and The Flying Machine. So much theater is so trivial, and there is nothing I hate more than triviality in art. I loathe frivolous theater, theater where (as Greg Barlowe would put it) "everything is there."
Yet I am not ready to work with non-actors. I am not ready to teach, not ready to organize, not ready to bring "my" theater to the anarchists and unionists because in fact I have no theater. I have no strong technique or form, only strong commitments and ideas. Thus I end up with the strange paradox of my "unscripted theater pieces." On the one hand, I wanted my performers to be onstage as themselves, as real people, and not as actors. I wanted them to work out of their own feelings and thoughts about terrorism, fantasy, and queerness. But on the other hand, since I had very little to give them in the way of technique, I had simultaneously to ask them to be responsible for the form. I was requiring them to be actors and non-actors at the same time, and I had no idea how complex that demand was! I wanted them to work spontaneously from their whole human selves, but I also wanted the product to be informed by their performative skills. If I had really wanted non-actors then I shouldn't have had auditions!
Boal's words are a great relief to me. Someone out there has been developing theater as a weapon. Someone out there has been working on theater as a visionary and cultural and martial form, an art of combat, a deeply aesthetic dance with very real physical power -- like capoeira or tai chi.
Word.
I want to have a technique strong enough that I can bust out of the theater world and still be a theater person. Yes, truly I have no desire to work within the theater world. Truly I want to get out of those proscenium boxes and work with laborers, CEOs, students, immigrants, families, and revolutionaries. But to do all that you have to have a form to carry with you. Otherwise what makes it theater? What you need above all in order to teach the art of the samurai to peasants is kata.
My impression of Boal's work is that the theatrical form it draws on is that of story, dialogue, character, and scene work. I think these are the tools that he takes into the field. I want to go into the field with a different set of tools, something more like action instead of story, song instead of dialogue, archetype instead of character, and ritualized performance instead of scene work. I want them to be sweating in circles as in a folk dance. Or maybe I just want Boal's kind of theater to be informed by the innovations of experimental theater from Grotowsky to Radiohole.
In any case, I am taking a three-day workshop with Boal in September. So we shall see...
[Communique: 08.07.03]
Speaking of the fight for a better world...
Tony Kushner is wonderful.
[Communique: 08.04.03]
These past months...
Never have I felt so powerless. Unable to achieve anything. This is what they say New York does to you. No landscape you can influence; just hard concrete and the unbreakable infrastructure of imperialist capitalism. So what do we do? We cut ourselves, we shoot our neighbors, we drown ourselves in violent pornography of one kind or another. Anything to give us that feeling of cause and effect, that sensation of being able to act.
God, I believe this is somewhere in theater, but it's just been so fucking long. Eight months feels like many years. To have a space, and time to work, and actors who care, and an audience. Do you have to pay $30,000 a year in money you don't have in order to have all that? They have torn down all the playgrounds and there is nowhere to play. The countercultures are out there somewhere (they say) and I'm still looking. Some people can find it within the system, but I just don't have that kind of courage. To devote years toward saving a garden in the Bronx, and then see it forcibly demolished before your eyes to make way for homes no one around there can afford... I know some people believe in legislative change, and I guess I believe in it too. I just can't stomach working so close to the beast.
There are sacred communities all over the world, but where is the one I can live in? Not in Northampton, not in the Bronx, maybe not in Brooklyn, maybe not in Poland. I don't know. So now I have a job and I'm taking a class and it still doesn't feel right.
I guess you just have to keep looking. I guess there's really nothing else you can do but keep on walking across the pavement until you find the grass. Or the pavement that feels like home.
[Communique: 08.02.03]
"Butch, Butch Bush!" by Maureen Dowd. The article is kind of dumb, but you know I love the word metrosexual.
[Communique: 08.01.03]
Right. Okay. So, it's August, and I now work full-time at an apparel factory across the street, where I'm training to supervise the construction of vast quantities of womens' clothing. Everybody there is Jewish or latino and I am hoping to brush up on my Yiddish and Spanish. I'm taking a nine-day class in Commedia dell'Arte that runs until next Friday, and just generally trying to sort out my life in an effort to make money, train physically, and enjoy myself in New York City for another few months or a year until I move to Poland to study physical theater. In the meantime I am also planning to rewrite and re-produce The Dark Ages and to experiment with vegetarian cooking.
appendix to the above: |