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Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Avant-garde children?
My workshop in Montemor took place during the Citemor theater festival. One of the plays I've seen there was Tot És Perfecte, created by Roger Bernat, called the "new enfant terrible of the Spanish stage".
The production could be described in many ways. It is a medieval tale with a "making-of" included, a story about love and the meaning of life, a mix between contemporary and ancient/fantasy worlds. But above all, it is a play acted by teenagers. The 14-to-16-year-olds act out their private conversations as if the stage - and the public - were simply inexistent. They talk about things they care about, worry about, love (?). And then, they represent a medieval tale. In a fairly unconvincing and uninteresting way. So what is it that makes the show shocking to some, appealing to most? When not acting the story, the teens are "themselves". With all the consequences. They swear more than a drunk butcher, they talk dirty to each other, occasionally becoming incredibly cruel, some of them even actually spanking others, smoking, or, in one boy's case, undressing and playing with the genitals in front of the public. Oh, and sucking on it. For the acrobatic trick. And the public's guilty feeling of joy.
I tried talking to the actors, the director, several other spectators. I wanted to know what they felt. They thought it was real. And funny. The actors felt just fine about all this, stating that this is who they are and they were not forced to do anything, on the contrary, they were the ones suggesting, and several things they suggested were rejected. The boys who smoked had been smoking since they were 12, the boy who made the exhibitionist trick insisted on doing that and had a long conversation with everyone about what he was going to do.
And of course, my favorite argument: this is who they are. We can't be so politically correct as to censor it. It would be hypocrisy. And come on, this is no big deal really. There have been much worse things happening on stage in contemporary theater, also to teenagers.
Then why is it bothering me? Maybe because I have a few friends who started smoking on stage, and never quit. Or because I remember myself at 14, 15, 16, and the enthusiasm with which I undertook the most silly and unwise things. I suppose I was in the luxurious situation of not being tempted to try them out on stage. Why? Maybe, because there is a difference between what's happening with or without a witness. And because I'm not sure of how far it goes, but I'm pretty sure the young people I spoke to are so even less. Or maybe because I'm just a boring moralist, who can't deal with true avant-garde when he sees it.
The production could be described in many ways. It is a medieval tale with a "making-of" included, a story about love and the meaning of life, a mix between contemporary and ancient/fantasy worlds. But above all, it is a play acted by teenagers. The 14-to-16-year-olds act out their private conversations as if the stage - and the public - were simply inexistent. They talk about things they care about, worry about, love (?). And then, they represent a medieval tale. In a fairly unconvincing and uninteresting way. So what is it that makes the show shocking to some, appealing to most? When not acting the story, the teens are "themselves". With all the consequences. They swear more than a drunk butcher, they talk dirty to each other, occasionally becoming incredibly cruel, some of them even actually spanking others, smoking, or, in one boy's case, undressing and playing with the genitals in front of the public. Oh, and sucking on it. For the acrobatic trick. And the public's guilty feeling of joy.
I tried talking to the actors, the director, several other spectators. I wanted to know what they felt. They thought it was real. And funny. The actors felt just fine about all this, stating that this is who they are and they were not forced to do anything, on the contrary, they were the ones suggesting, and several things they suggested were rejected. The boys who smoked had been smoking since they were 12, the boy who made the exhibitionist trick insisted on doing that and had a long conversation with everyone about what he was going to do.
And of course, my favorite argument: this is who they are. We can't be so politically correct as to censor it. It would be hypocrisy. And come on, this is no big deal really. There have been much worse things happening on stage in contemporary theater, also to teenagers.
Then why is it bothering me? Maybe because I have a few friends who started smoking on stage, and never quit. Or because I remember myself at 14, 15, 16, and the enthusiasm with which I undertook the most silly and unwise things. I suppose I was in the luxurious situation of not being tempted to try them out on stage. Why? Maybe, because there is a difference between what's happening with or without a witness. And because I'm not sure of how far it goes, but I'm pretty sure the young people I spoke to are so even less. Or maybe because I'm just a boring moralist, who can't deal with true avant-garde when he sees it.
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Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Tuesday, August 2, 2005
Monday, August 1, 2005
Fear
Marja-Leena's comment to my last post made me discover James W. Bailey's blog about art, mainly his own, with some fascinating insights of a fairly renowned modern artist (I've only just started investigating though). The most recent post is about a French stranger met in the metro, and is "illustrated" by two pictures (or is the text an illustration of the pics?). As I was reading through the blog, I was listening to the uneven, but occasionally excellent wps1 art radio (by the NY-based PS1 Contemporary Art Center) , to a conversation about fear. And I recalled a picture I took a few days ago in the metro. Went back to it, worked on it a little, and here it is:
Look
I guess you could say it's my drying of the puppies.
Look I guess you could say it's my drying of the puppies.
Popularity
It's incredible: it was enough to put some naked women on the blog, and the clicks keep coming in.
Of puppies and evil
What's
in a teddy?
Nothing, if they remain quietly suspended on a string.
Then, Rose begins writing. And the text explains that a short time ago a soldier (with an English name... US Army? British?) was abused by his colleagues for not being of the same color. He was washed, and then scalped. Cleansed.
And then Rose, the old, severe- but- kind- looking lady, goes back to the puppies. She grabs the black one, and washes it. Puts white detergent on it, splatters transparent water. Then spills the filthy, gray water on the floor and puts the puppy back on its place. And leaves. Stopping to look back a couple of times, just to make sure.
Rose and the Teddy Bears is a 20-minute street performance, part of a series presented by the French theater/performance group Princesses Peluches during the FIAR International Street Arts Festival in Palmela, Portugal ("street arts" in this case basically means theater). The quote on the group's site says "Rose makes people laugh and think at the same time". Well, this time it really
didn't make me laugh (though some might find the beginning amuzing thanks to the subtly stylized persona of Rose). Once you get it, it's really quite creepy. What I found interesting was that the whole thing would be rather weak - if it weren't presented by this character, which seems from a completely different story. And that's what gives the show its credibility. It's as if the old lady made it easier to swallow something so bitter we are usually tempted to refuse it as a "performance", or even as a direct social commentary.
in a teddy?Nothing, if they remain quietly suspended on a string.
Then, Rose begins writing. And the text explains that a short time ago a soldier (with an English name... US Army? British?) was abused by his colleagues for not being of the same color. He was washed, and then scalped. Cleansed.
And then Rose, the old, severe- but- kind- looking lady, goes back to the puppies. She grabs the black one, and washes it. Puts white detergent on it, splatters transparent water. Then spills the filthy, gray water on the floor and puts the puppy back on its place. And leaves. Stopping to look back a couple of times, just to make sure.
Rose and the Teddy Bears is a 20-minute street performance, part of a series presented by the French theater/performance group Princesses Peluches during the FIAR International Street Arts Festival in Palmela, Portugal ("street arts" in this case basically means theater). The quote on the group's site says "Rose makes people laugh and think at the same time". Well, this time it really
didn't make me laugh (though some might find the beginning amuzing thanks to the subtly stylized persona of Rose). Once you get it, it's really quite creepy. What I found interesting was that the whole thing would be rather weak - if it weren't presented by this character, which seems from a completely different story. And that's what gives the show its credibility. It's as if the old lady made it easier to swallow something so bitter we are usually tempted to refuse it as a "performance", or even as a direct social commentary.
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