[I]t is only by searching for a new discrimination that we will extend the horizons of the real. Only then could the theatre be useful, for we need a beauty which could convince us: we need desperately to experience the magic in so direct a way that our very notion of what is substantial could be changed.
It is not as though the period of necessary debunking were now over. On the contrary, all through the world in order to save the theatre almost everything of the theatre still has to be swept away. The process has hardly begun, and perhaps can never end. The theatre needs its perpetual revolution. Yet wanton destruction is criminal; it produces violent reaction and still greater confusion. If we demolish a pseudo-holy theatre, we must endeavor not to bamboozle ourselves into thinking that the need for the sacred is old-fashioned and that cosmonauts have proved once and for all that angels do not exist. Also, if we get dissatisfied with the hollowness of so much of the theatre of revolutionaries and propagandists. we must not for this reason assume that the need to talk of people, of power, of money and of the structure of society is a passing fashion. . . .to [capture the audiences attention and compel its belief] we must prove that there will be no trickery, nothing hidden. We must open our empty hands and show that really there is nothing up our sleeves. Only then can we begin.
-Peter Brook, The Empty Space
One of the most compelling aspects of modern culture is that, at least aesthetically, anything is permitted. The ‘rules’ have been so torn down that any artistic avenue one might choose to go down is given the stamp of approval. This kind of freedom though does contain within it its own implicit constraints. Its own rules. It is not so much a matter of achieving perfection as it is transcending form. Precisely because there is so much available to us, we must narrow down our efforts and go beyond the simple forms of previous generations. In the way that the rigor of iambic pentameter allowed Shakespeare to transcend the limitations of language we must do that same thing, but from almost the opposite direction.
The Omega Constant, which argues that the rate of expansion in the Universe is constantly increasing, indicates that on a cosmic scale ideas and possibilities are ever increasing. In this same way, almost like a fractal, the rate of expansion of ideas within our personal sphere of knowledge is increasing. The rate of ideation increases as time goes on. Not simply the number of ideas, but the actual rate at which these ideas manifest increases. One need only take a cursory look at the rate of technological change in the last twenty years to see proof of this. Within this context of an ever expanding novelty from which to draw, it becomes necessary to focus in on a specific subset. We must transform our box of paints into a beautiful canvass rather than allowing them to fall into a thick grey-brown sludge.
There are many ways that one might deal with this information overload. Sadly one of the most common is a kind of stasis. The sheer volume of options available can lead one to balk in the face of decision and end up not making choices, and by force of inertia we fall back on tried and one time successful techniques. This lends itself to a kind of thin idea behind the work. It is recognizable. The play looks like the play, but there is nothing special. There is nothing unique. This is scenery that looks like “scenery.” Lighting that looks like “lighting.” And so forth. The work may be “dramatic” but it is not compelling.
The other too common effect is the kitchen sink problem. As in everything but . . .oh well throw that in there too. This occurs when a kind of preciousness is ascribed to the work that it does not deserve. But more than that, is a subconscious fear that this will be the last work you ever produce. The fear that you will never have another chance causes many to not make choices, to not edit the work. Joshua writes a great piece about how to make that ‘last piece ever’ feeling create a work of strength and beauty. Because there is a way of looking at the edge of the cliff to see possibility rather than death. George’s piece today points to similar ideas.
When Brook says we must be sure to show the audience we have nothing up our sleeves he is not advocating a removal of all stage illusion. A degree of illusion is necessary, however slight, to make theatre work. But the larger point has to do with honesty and authenticity. Approaching a work with an open and authentic willingness to engage is necessary for a true creation of art. We can do less and make wonderful entertainments. And sometimes what is called for is a simple entertainment. But when the call is art, we must drop the pretense and facade and get down to the difficult and arduous work of laying bare the soul. Anything less becomes readily apparent to anyone with a keen eye towards the work.
And sometimes you are the only one carrying the torch. And sometimes that is fine. The issue is not one of judgement and condemnation, but rather of finding ones own place in the larger scheme of things. But as he also says “The theatre needs its perpetual revolution.” Without those creators who are constantly reinventing themselves and the art form, its value quickly falls to naught.
The rough theatre is the theatre of revolution. Not in the sense of putting men with shaggy beards and guns on stage. Rather, it is a kind of ontological and epistemological revolution. Our very way of being in the world must be placed in the sharpest relief to life and possibility. Our fundamental understanding of everything from self to society to cosmos must be put to the test, the fat and waste disposed of such that the lean authentic self can emerge. But this demands of the creators an equal if not greater push towards authenticity. We can not simply sit back and critique. We must get down and get our hands dirty in the task of creating the necessary conditions for the transformation of the human soul. We must use the soul as fuel to transcend the soul. To stand upon our own shoulders as giants and look out over the valley of the Real.
Tags: empty space, peter brook, rough theatre
