Three is a crowd…

One-to-one performances can be difficult. They are rather difficult to set, too. There are the ethical implications and then there are all these elements that have to be connected or else something is missing and the engagement will be lost.

I tried to create a connecting, interactive dance environment for a term A module and it slightly backfired. I just was not ready yet to construct an environment and a choreography that would be engaging, intimate and maybe touching.

After all the readings, there is a word worth keeping in mind while creating a choreography or a performance: connection. Connection makes the work.[1]

But then, there are some other words that appear in the readings’ vocabulary:

  • COERCION
  • INTROJECTION: the unconscious adoption of another’s thoughts and ideas
  • HUMANITY
  • INTIMACY

All work their way more or less to the connection, the collaboration between the performer and the participant.

And this is something that happens only in a one-to-one performance, as Adrian Howells says[2] , while he completely disagrees with the theatrical performances of 700 people watching him and connecting with him

Well, I disagree with him.

“Personal insecurities and digressions have the potential to produce
more intimate connections to the “integrity experience”,
through “immediacy”, “relationship”, “awareness” and “attention”1”.

A crowded theatrical or dance performance can create intimate connections because of the integrity experience, through the immediacy, the relationship, the awareness and the attention, and mainly because of the personal insecurities that the audience carries while sitting in front of the stage.

Undoubtedly, crowded performances differ from one-to-one performances in the aspect of the safety and trust among the audience members (higher in crowded performances, when they enjoy a show with friends and relatives) and the self-consciousness of the participants (higher in a one-to-one performance, where they desire to “give a good audience”1).

There is a connection made during a live performance. How intimate it is, is negotiable. However, it would seem inappropriate to flatten so many performers’, dancers’, actors’ work and effort to create emotion, to transmit a message to or to inspire their audience.

Following that, Marina Abramovic appeared to disagree with me by saying: “Theatre is fake (…). The knife is not real, the blood is not real and the emotions are not real. Performance is just the opposite: the knife is real, the blood is real and the emotions are real” (O’Hagan 2010:32)2.

Answering that, Simon Murray and John Keefe in their book “Physical Theatres:  critical introduction” (2007) write that “the real never went away and never goes away. Such debates can become facile in their danger of removing the real from discourse, experience from rhetoric; making the lived experience of the body a mere plaything for theoreticians’ ping-pong”.[3]

After that, I’m thinking about the poor Stanislavski and all his theory on “becoming” the character, the training exercises, the methodology and the pain actors have endured when finally reaching the stage of “becoming the character”. I’m thinking about them performing – actually performing– with tears and sweat and blood. How fake and artificial can this be?

I’m wondering, is it because they don’t use the knife for real? Is it because they don’t cut themselves for real? And I’m wondering more, should actors harm themselves every time they go on stage so that the audience see something real? What if their characters get killed? What if their characters lose their virginity or get raped? What if they have to be hung? What if the director is artistically mental and wants to see blood everywhere and the actors suffer from HIV and it is harmful for their personal lives? Then what?

And this leads my thoughts to ancient Greek tragedies where death or blood battles or anything harmful was just narrated and never performed on stage because of the ethics and the ennoblement of the writers’ work.

It is a peculiar era we are living nowadays. An era where nudity, sex and massacres are okay to be watched on TV and cinema and then transferred on stage and books and then becoming a reality, which we have to accept if we want to be part of this society, if we want to be “liked” and accepted (or better approved?) .

So, then, what is real and what is fake? What is truly intimate without being coerced?

Let’s create some more definitions and we can talk about it in a few years.

– – – – – –

[1] Heddon, D., Iball, H. and Zeriham, R. (2012) Come Closer: Confessions of Intimate Spectators in One to One Performance. Contemporary Theatre Review, 22(1) 120 – 133.
[2] Johnson, D. (2012) The Kindness of Strangers: An Interview with Adrian Howells. Performing Ethos, 3(2) 173-190.
[3] Murray, S. & Keefe, J. (2007). Physical Theatres: A critical introduction. Routledge: London & New York. p.60

About definitions…

Performance is said to be, nowadays, any action that is watched by an audience.[1]

Choreography is said to be, nowadays, any order of things.[2]

Doesn’t it look very general?

Doesn’t it look very easy?

What I am thinking is that we live in a small chaos that we made when we wanted to start our revolution to the tradition of the classical performing arts.
We thought: “Why can’t choreography be this and this and this?”

                                      and then

“Why can’t performance be this and this and this?”

And we tried to make something new and something old-new and we are now choreographers/ performers/ visual artists/ critics/ sculptors.
We are everything that an artist can be. And we live in 2018! Well done us!

There is really no problem there.

                                                             But I have a question.

What happened to the idols? What happened to the people that made history? Where are they?

Where is the next Michael Jackson? The next Balanchine? The next Martha Graham?

We are here now, on this planet, doing everything, mixing our skills with our identity and we become the same as everyone in this small chaos we created. We rarely create something significant. Something identifiable. Something that has only our name on. We rarely do.

And the lucky ones who managed to create their signature on their choreographic pieces, nowadays, are now being part of this chaos.

But maybe this chaos is a phase that choreography and performance are going through.

Maybe we have to get out of the action, observe it and then define it again.

Maybe we would only then need to give a characteristic to them:

Dance-based choreography, theatrical choreography, cooking-based choreography, traffic choreography

High-art performance, non-art performance

So, maybe then, I don’t need to create a definition I should use for choreography.

Maybe I should just give a definition on dance and introduce this dance-based definition to my small manifesto of do’s and don’ts in dance choreography.

Or maybe we should not have definitions, but only boards of restricted areas, or circles that connect to each other. But then we won’t be in the small chaos we created anymore.

[1] Elin Diamond, ed, Performance and Cultural Politics (New York: Routledge 1996), 5

[2] Merriam-Webster

What’s the fuzz?

Dear reader,

For the past few weeks I have been studying many authors, artists and critics who have been occupied with the problem of “documentation”. By “documentation” we mean all the archives that have been collected for a dance performance piece.

Apparently it is not that simple… There are so many problems that rise from this single word “documentation”:

Can you write a dance performance piece in a paper sheet? Can you film it and take a photo of it? It is not a performance then, it becomes something else, right? And what does it become? So, how should we keep the documentation? Should we have it interpreted in this way or in that way? Can we touch it? Will it change the final work? Will there be any difference with the authentic piece? Is this difference “history” or is it a problem of time (past and present)? If documentation is not the suitable device to transfer a description of the piece in the future, then what is? Are the bodies archives or archivists?

A phrase of Jessica Santone[1] has remained in my mind saying “The past is not incomplete, history is”. I agree to that in the extent that the past is time and time is always complete after being passed (< past). History, however, is being written and picked out and beautified in the words of the historians or the people that tell the stories. History is not always complete. For this reason, documentation cannot be considered complete.

André Lepecki disagrees with Santone’s view and argues that “the will to archive is a capacity to identify in a past work still non-exhausted creative fields of “impalpable possibilities”, and by that he means that “the fields that “concern the possible” are always present in any past work and are that which re-enactments activate”. And then he continues talking about the “activation” using the compossibles (the totality of monads that convey the same world) and incompossibles (monads of which each express a world different from the other) of Deleuze’s theory.

And what I wonder is: what’s the fuzz? Why is all this analysis necessary for the archiving of dance?

Isn’t a simple thing like: people produce, other people write about them, the composer writes about them, the audience of this specific era gets the message and the archives are kept for the future? Something will be lost in the process, but isn’t this a good thing? People’s perception and knowledge is different in different decades. Bodies are different. Technology is different. The message meant to be transmitted was sent in a way that the artists wanted to send it. If someone re-enacts/re-performs/re-makes the same work, he/she will do it for money and fame. Have you noticed that most of re-enactments are mostly solo performances? So, the work can never be the same again anyway. As history can be repeated but not in the same way, but with the same consequences.

Again, I am wondering: what’s the fuzz?

Write as much documentation as you can, keep videos, keep archives, keep every or any detail. Let’s do that. Let’s keep a history of dance intact in the only way we now know. And let’s not talk about the semantics and their “inappropriate” position in the (dance) world. Let’s read them, study them or perform them. Many dance pieces have already been lost because of bureaucracy. And it would be a shame for dance history to be lost because of the academics or critics who take so extensively part in this debate.

For my conclusion, I want to add two quotes that André Lepecki used in his book chapter “The body as archive: will to re-enact and the afterlives of dances[2]. He mentions that “re-enactments transform all authored objects into fugitives in their own home”. It is something worth thinking about, when talking about this huge problem of documentation. And we also must never forget his final phrase: “In re-enacting we turn back, and in this return we find in past dances a will to keep inventing”.

 

 

[1] Santone, J. (2008) Marina Abramović’s Seven Easy Pieces: Critical Documentation Strategies for Preserving Art’s History. Leonardo. Vol. 41, No. 2, pp. 147–152
[2] Lepecki, A. (2010) The Body as Archive: Will to Re-Enact and the Afterlives of Dances, Dance Research Journal, 42(2) 28-48

7 Thoughts about Seven Easy Pieces by Marina Abramovic

≥ It manipulates the repetition and temporality[1]

≥ It keeps a relationship with body and architecture and performance and photography[2]

≥ It demonstrates that all understanding occurs through embodied acts of attendance, which occur in time and must be repeated.[3]

≥ Abramovic’s body becomes a metonym for the performances that she re-performed[4]

≥ It addresses duration, physical stamina, myth and intensive states of mind, such as attentiveness and focus[5]

≥ It is about re-performance , habits, ritual, deprivation, purification, privacy …[6]

≥ …and exhaustion[7]

 

 

[1] Santone, J. (2008) Marina Abramović’s Seven Easy Pieces: Critical Documentation Strategies for Preserving Art’s History. Leonardo. Vol. 41, No. 2, pp. 147–152
[2] ibid
[3] Shalshon, L. (2013) Enduring Documents: Re-Documentation in Marina Abramović’s Seven Easy Pieces. Contemporary Theatre Review, London: Routledge,  Vol. 23, No. 3, 432–441
[4] Powell, B.D. (2010)   Seven Easy Pieces and Performance Document(ation)s. Theatre Annual 63. The College of William and Mary. pp 64-86
[5] Emerling, J. (2010). Marina Abramovic: The Artist Is Present: Museum of Modern Art, New York. X-tra: Contemporary Art Quarterly, Vol. 13, pp.26-35
[6] ibid
[7] ibid

Unmarked & Reconstructing the dance

By Peggy Phelan[1] & Helen Thomas[2]

In here, I will use both of the articles that we were given to study.

They both refer to the present life that performance has. “Performance cannot be saved […]: once it does so, it becomes something other than performance”, says Peggy Phelan and Sigel agrees as “[Dance is] an event that disappears in the very act of materializing”.

Maybe keeping a description of the performance, would be a good try of maintaining the work, but in that way, what really happens is a transformation of the work in the words of this script. Indeed, on the one hand, a review or a script can fundamentally alter the event, on the other hand, though, it is a way to preserve it.

“Performance’s challenge to writing is to discover a way for repeated words to become performative utterances,
rather than constative utterances”

-Benveniste

Until now dance has no retrievable past, as “[it] has been pushed to the margins of aesthetic and philosophical discourse” (Elton, 1992, p.22). So, what we have is the gap between the text and the performance, the “arrangement” of the work, as Helen Thomas wants to name it, from debates and discourses. This gap is desired, intended and logically required.

The debate for the aura, the authenticity, the repeatability and the reproducibility of the works still goes on among the theoreticians of dance.

Tomlison prefers using the term “authentic meanings” to “authenticity”, because we cannot possibly know with any degree of objective certainty the composer’s true intentions in creating the work.  In that way, we become less absolute on our conclusions on authenticity and use our beliefs and memories. These memories are a mix of every “thing outside of the work” that makes the work understandable to the audience. Again, this brings us to the second paragraph that introduced the “alteration” of the work.

Peter Kivy follows with 4 different interpretations to authenticity:

  1. Faithfulness to the composer’s intentions
  2. Performance practice and original sound in the composer’s lifetime to the performer’s own self
  3. Original way of playing
  4. (through) performance

Maybe, the writing should come from the performers and the composer themselves and then from audience and critics. Maybe, this is what Franko means when he writes about “dance theorizing” that should replace repeatability.

[1] Phelan, P. (1993). Unmarked: the politics of performance. London: Routledge

[2] Thomas, H. Reconstructing the Dance: In Search of Authenticity. The Body, Dance and Cultural Theory. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. pp. 121-145