Enlightened

Gah – I had this ‘saved as draft’ but not ‘posted’. I guess that proves how tired I was after a week of physical theater :/

I’m so sorry, but here it is now.

This past week and my experience with physical theater has been nothing short of amazing. I don’t believe that I will be able to properly convey my sentiments on the practice in these simple words on a blog – however, I will try my best to do so, and I hope that whoever reads this will understand the impact this experience has made on my life. This was all an experience made possible by several people, and I will start by introducing the first.

Mark Hill – to be honest, I’m not sure what I expected from him. Did I even expect anything at all, I wonder? All I know is that when I first met him, when I introduced myself, I immediately thought, “Ah… I like this man.” As conceited as this may sound, it is rare for me to accept someone so easily, yet I feel that Mark has this air about him that makes you feel at ease and want to work hard. He has often spoken of giving his ‘energy’ and how he expects us to return it, and perhaps that is it. His energy and passion was conveyed to me, and perhaps that is what made him such a fascinating character. He made me want to take the opportunity, or as he puts it, the privilege that I might have otherwise passed up.

Now, who is he, and how does he factor into the past week? He was a teacher, a performer, and the person who guided the IB Theater class into the world of physical theater. He travels the world most of the year, holding workshops and teaching schools in several different continents as well as performing with other theater companies. His main practice is Butoh theater, but it is obvious from what he has taught us that he has been largely influenced by the ideologies of Anne Bogart and Tadashi Suzuki as well. He has then taught these ideas to us.

With Bogart, we learned not a simple practice of theater, but how to be an actor. Mark has told us repeatedly throughout the week that to be an extraordinary actor, we need just four things: Energy, Focus, Physical Awareness, and Group Awareness.

I never knew just how… naïve I had been. It was never that I thought that acting was easy, no – far from it. However, this experience with physical theater has taught me that I have severely underestimated just how difficult it is to be the actor on stage.

Continuing with Bogart, we also learned to divide practices into three different categories: Body, Space, and Time.

Of the body there were shapes and gestures (we could make whole nonverbal performances with these alone – astounding!)

Of space, we learned of special relationships, lines, angles, counterpoint, architecture, so much (too little time, too little energy to truly convey how much I have learned) – however, I will take a moment to describe what I have learned about the architecture in particular, for it has made a particular impact on me. On one of the last days, the class was divided into four groups in which we had twenty minutes to create a three-scene performance utilizing the architecture.

This was something new and amazing.

It was simply eye-opening to see how different people thought to use the same architecture in different ways and just how many possibilities there were in the space given to us. It was exciting, and though we were under, as Mark puts it, “exquisite pressure”, it was fun – to give life to a shell of a room, and to use bend the space around me into the shape of the world I had envisioned, it is the second greatest joy that I have experienced in my life.

Of Time, there was tempo and kinesthetic response… but I realize now, belatedly, that I have learned far too much to record everything from this past week in one simple post, especially when I am tired as I am at the moment. Instead, I think I’ll focus for now on that one moment that brought everything together.

The Stomp and Shakahachi.

I am terribly sorry if I have killed the proper spelling of that. Another name I would give this particular exercise is, “The Moment it All Came Together” and I wish that the whole class could have experienced what only a fortunate few were able to. (Darn curfews and late bus policies.)

There is no denying that this activity of Suzuki was perhaps one of the most physically trying things I have ever attempted in my life. It would have been impossible for me had Mark not built up the qualities of an actor in me beforehand. Focus – I had to spend an unbelievable amount of focus to keep myself from giving up. Had I let my thoughts stray for a moment to how tired I was, if I had even for a second thought of the burn in my muscles, I would not have been able to persevere. Instead, I concentrated on the will, on the challenge, and focused on thinking of nothing. 

Energy – oh, if I didn’t have energy I never would have made it. I was exhausted by the end of it – in fact, the reason this post is a day late is because I practically fainted upon reaching home and slept for fourteen hours straight. Silly of me, wasn’t that?

Awareness – I had to be both physically aware and group aware to participate in this activity properly. During the stomping, it was incredibly important for me to “keep a grounded, engaged lower body” and “a loose, tension-free upper body”. I had to be aware of what my body was doing at all times. Were my stomps in time with the music? Were my knees high enough? All the while, I also had to use my peripheral focus to judge the space between the others in the group and myself. Are we evenly spaced? Should I fill in that gap? Not only did we have to avoid knocking into each other, we had to make sure we were using the whole of the stage that was the blackbox – the next thing:

Architecture. The stomping was magnificent because it was the blackbox. “Wake up the gods,” Mark said and it felt almost as if that was what was happening – the room trembled at our footfalls and echoed the beat of our movements in time to music. The architecture helped our performance, and made it extraordinary.

Tempo – oh, we made such use of tempo. After such vigorous movement in the stomping, we made a rapid transition into… extraordinary slowness. Slow motion – it was unbelievable, the feeling of peace I could feel despite the protesting of my limbs and how tired I was. Walking forward slowly, I almost forgot it was a performance and I simply lived it – I lived the moment, and became… well, I’m not sure what I was.

Something grand and with a purpose.

Something sure of itself and what it was to do.

Something focused and pure, that could make a change.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when I performed.

The other people that made all this possible?

Mrs. Moon – thank you so much for giving me this opportunity, for giving me this privilege. As I said at the beginning, there is no way I can express everything I have learned in words, no matter how I try. However, this experience has rekindled a dying passion of mine for theater as well as given me more confidence as a practitioner. Theater has taught me so much that other classes cannot. I know of no way to express this gratitude other than with violent articulation: Thank you.

And to my class – thank you for making this experience wonderful. I felt self-conscious at first, but you’re all so accepting and just so free that I could only follow suit ^^

I thank you for that as well.

Physical Theater

I think that to sum up what I've learned today with violent articulation, I only need two words: Physical Limitations.

Today's experience with Mark Hill has been nothing short of amazing, and I cannot express my gratitude to you enough, Mrs. Moon, for making this happen. Although today's lesson was mostly conversational in nature, it was still artistically enlightening. I have to say that the rule of violent articulation was one I took to immediately - I am prone to using superfluous words in my speech and writing, so it is a concept that seemed to relate to me. I actually felt quite 'put on the spot' when my turn came to introduce myself, but once it passed, it was interesting to see how other people answered the same questions so differently.

As for what I learned today, I feel that Butou Theater is a practice that seeks to test and rise above the physical limitations of an actor. Today, it occurred to me that many things that we consider 'physical limitations' are actually reluctance of the mind or a mental obstacle to overcome rather than a physical one.

Once you accept that and free your mind, new possibilities open for your body as well.

I have so much more to say, but I am simply too tired tonight. I will have to retire for the week XD

G'night everybody.

The Deadly Theatre

Just answering the questions in a bloggy format~

1. Is theatre nothing more than entertainment?
No, theatre is not. Theatre is a medium for creation and a form of expression that can honestly bring about change and bring to light society's problems that need to be brought to life. Theatre is a revelation.

2. How does the Deadly Theatre take easily to Shakespeare?
It is a fact that in many cases that although the works of Shakespeare could be performed by competent actors with appropriate setting, costumes, music, lighting, publicity, etc... it is also, in the end, boring. It is easy to take the 'great works' of the Bard of Avon and and cast them into Deadly (boring) Theatre without intending to.

3. Is "boringness" a certain guarantee of a worthwhile event?
Although Brook writes that "boringness" is often a reassurance of a worthwhile event, I personally would not as far as to say a "certain" guarantee. The right balance is difficult to find, and sometimes a boring work is just that: boring.

4. What role does mediocrity play?
Mediocrity in a work gives the audience a sense that everything within the work could indeed happen, and this slight element of realism can draw them in.

5. What is the difference between passing down "meaning" and "manner"?
Passing down the "meaning" is to pass down the heart, the essence of a craft and thought which will in turn shape its own unique matter with each person. When meaning is passed down, the art itself will last. However, when the "manner" is passed down alone, there is no heart to it. The art itself will be a husk of a craft and have no soul to fill its depths because it is a copy, and a dissimilar copy at that, of one who practiced the art.

6. Is it true that "the best dramatists explain the least"? Can you think of some examples from plays you have seen or read?
I can think of several examples from literary works, but drawing from the theatrical productions I have seen, the first example that comes to mind would be the Phantom of the Opera, who explains little his motive for monopolizing Christine, yet conveys so strongly in a beautiful and chilling manner, just how his strong his obsession is. Particularly in the final scene (SPOILER WARNING) when he releases both Christine and Raul after she kisses him, this is true. Christine never explicitly explained why she kissed the 'monster and the Phantom never entered any expository sequence on why he released the pair. There was no explanation, and that made it beautiful.

I can also express first-hand the difficulties portraying something that has previously been labeled with a word. Although my onstage experiences are few, I am no stranger to acting in words, and certainly no stranger to characters. I participate actively in what I call, 'acting in text format', or text-based roleplaying, and the best part is always bringing a character to life on a page. Often times, however, I discover a story I wish to join, only to find that the characters have previously been granted cheap throwaway characteristics. I found it incredibly difficult to convey these presented characteristics in a realistic manner because... well... they were just so blatantly there. It wasn't a nuance that I had created through the understanding of my character, and the words would not flow from his lips. (And then when I decided to throw the skeleton personality out the window and let the character grow as he wished, one of the other roleplayers called me out, but that is a story for a different time.) With this small change, however, I felt that I had managed to better portray something as vague as "generous" and "kind" in a more realistic and complex manner.

7. How can you go from Deadly Theatre to Living Theatre as an actor?
To bring theatre to life, one must simply forget any notion of a 'perfected style' that one must emulate, and instead bring a flavor of your own to the piece itself.

8. How did Peking Opera lose its connectedness to the life of society around it?


9. At the heart of the meaning of Living Theatre: "theatre is always a self-destructive art, and it is always written on the wind." What is your interpretation of this?
To practice theatre is to devote one's self to change and accept the fact that no idea will remain eternal. Theatre is a self-destructive art because it must constantly destroy itself of past conceptions in order to live, breathe, and retain the heart of what theatre itself is. I believe the wind mentioned is a wind of change. Theatre is always deconstructed but is rebuilt on a whim into something different, yet stills somehow the same. (Unrelated, but my verbose rambling in this portion is reminding me of the paradox of Lock's Socks, I believe it was called o...o)

10. According to Brook, what should be influencing theatre at all times?
According to Brook, life itself, the changing of times and the present day, should be influencing theatre at all times.

11. Please add two of your own questions for the rest of the chapter...
(I'm actually  unsure if I am meant to answer theses myself, but people are free to upload responses in the comments!)

What does it mean that "authors are failing to rise to the challenge of their times"?

A director is said to be "a strange role: he does not ask to be God and yet his role implies it". What is your interpretation of this statement and do you agree?