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Ryan Hartigan
  • School of Performing Arts
    University of Otago
    PO Box 56
    Dunedin 9054
    New Zealand

Ryan Hartigan

  • Law and Performance, Indigenous Performance and the Law, Performance Studies, World Performance, Intersections between Theatre and Law, Law and Society, and 32 moreedit
  • Ryan Hartigan is an artist and scholar from Aotearoa-New Zealand, currently faculty in Theatre Studies in the School ... moreedit
  • Patricia Ybarra, Committee members: Megan Lewis, Paja Faudree, Adrienne Keeneedit
Ryan Hartigan takes up the theme of ambivalence around performance in a different context: the courtroom. In “‘This Is a Trial, Not a Performance!’: Staging the Time of Law,” he explores the relationship between law, performance, and... more
Ryan Hartigan takes up the theme of ambivalence around performance in a different context: the courtroom. In “‘This Is a Trial, Not a Performance!’: Staging the Time of Law,” he explores the relationship between law, performance, and temporality in Delgamuukw v. R, an important 1987–1991 case out of British Columbia in which indigenous groups petitioned the court for legal recognition of their claims to a large swath of land in northwest British Columbia. At trial, the Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en petitioners offered performances—dances and oral histories—as expert testimony concerning their ownership of the land from “time immemorial.” The court, while dismissing their evidence as “performance,” allowed it into the record only to discredit it as epistemologically unreliable. Because the trial judge invoked the logic of the legal doctrine “terra nullius,” which depends upon a portrayal of indigenous peoples as lacking the institutions of civilized society and in particular of failing to occupy and use land continuously, this discrediting of indigenous oral history inevitably doomed their case.

Noting the judge’s dismissal of certain kinds of theatrical performance in court, Hartigan argues that the trial itself is a performance—that the judge manages the shape and politics of the spectacle by selecting, presenting, and privileging certain “embodied processes” while also disguising those operations. In this case, the court favored one form of time— linear, evolutionary, borne of Enlightenment colonialist practice—over another, more continuous and capacious form of time displayed in the trial’s indigenous performances. Yet the court also displayed, Hartigan suggests, a profound anxiety around the problem of difference, embodied in the judge’s exclamation: “This is a trial, not a performance!” Such a statement is itself performative, he claims, in the sense that it creates a self-authorizing distinction and then enacts it. Hartigan critiques the politics infusing that anxiety, which embeds the court “within the historical forms of life that it structures” even as it purports to be detached from them. Ultimately, the Canadian Supreme Court rejected the trial court’s analysis, expanding evidentiary categories to include performance and oral history as Aboriginal common law. This more capacious approach to temporality and difference offers, Hartigan concludes, the possibility of exposing and reappraising law’s performative structurings of the world it governs.
Explanatory note preceding abstract: there are several simplifications of contested discussions within this article. In the main, this was necessary as a primer for an international audience and particularly a non-specialist audience... more
Explanatory note preceding abstract: there are several simplifications of contested discussions within this article. In the main, this was necessary as a primer for an international audience and particularly a non-specialist audience regarding the law - it was not published in a legal journal, but one of the leading interdisciplinary Performance Studies journals. On the other hand, there were some instances that were copy edited for house style and limitations of length where I would have laid them bare as .far from settled areas. I have attempted, wherever possible, to mark these up in the document itself.

Abstract:

In the multiple temporalities of the postcolony, the wasteful time of the Indigenous, which is deemed to be past-ness, is the exemplar of a more specific iteration of biopolitics, namely chronopolitics: the systems of power that privilege particular narratives of history and time and are enfolded in embodiment. This played out vividly in 2007 when heavily armed paramilitary Special Tactics Group carried out raids across Aotearoa-New Zealand, with the brunt falling hardest upon the Urewera homelands of Ngāi Tūhoe people. The operation was authorized by the mechanics of the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002, modelled upon the Patriot Act and passed under urgency by Parliament in response to United States pressure, displacing Tūhoe in their own homelands and transforming them into “terrorists” in the gaze of the Five Eyes (FVEY) international surveillance and intelligence network; a biopolitical irritant to the body politic of the neoliberal nation-state.

Rather than a neocolonial pocket, this was a colonial continuation: both reenactment and rehearsal. There was no doubt that the devastating overcompensation and sheer theatricality of police roadblocks and paramilitary staging points in Te Urewera homelands was no accidental choice. They took place on the exact border of the lands confiscated from Ngāi Tūhoe in 1866, following the statement that "it had been decided" by an unnamed government agency that the iwi (nation of people/ "tribe") was "in rebellion,” a flimsy pretext for a direct punitive action of land confiscation.
One of the most haunting markers of the 2007 Urewera state terror raids is not the scale of intervention, nor even the disproportionate use of force against civilians: it is a battered shack standing sentinel over the staging point of the paramilitary forces, across the historic confiscation line on Ngāi Tūhoe homesoil, where jagged lettering scrawls one child’s fear:

I cried because we were hungry & scared
5 years old Oct 15, 2007 (Morse 2010)

In this move, a country invaded itself, and in doing so, denied that Tūhoe had standing in their own homelands even as it placed them outside of the nation itself in the no-place of “terrorism.” Brought into its wake as a blunt rejoinder, reinscribing embodied histories and refuting that Tūhoe could only be apprehended through the lens of violence, was the legal instrument known as the Waitangi Tribunal – a tribunal as a meeting point of history from above and history from below. It is not a court. It is not a judicial body. It is not a legislative body. It is not a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It is a bureaucracy. The word “bureaucracy” strikes fear into the hearts of the academic: but could it be, that this hybrid creature, breaking the normal flow of bureaucracy itself, short-circuits pastness, the present moment, and futurity?
[...] On one level, PS [Performance Studies] theorists have been interested in the ‘audience as public’, a group of strangers who come together in the context of performance to witness, reflect and often dialogue. Further, in its... more
[...] On one level, PS [Performance Studies] theorists have been interested in the ‘audience as public’, a group of strangers who come together in the context of performance to witness, reflect and often dialogue. Further, in its preoccupation with issues of visibility/ invisibility, PS has helped to investigate publicness as that which illuminates perceptions of the ‘private’, as well as that which is physically
given to be seen by the other. On yet another level, PS scholars have turned to ‘publics’ to describe a performative relation between individuals – the ways that identities, identifications and ideologies serve to relate and differentiate people within the public sphere. This sense of publics resonates with what Warner has famously dubbed ‘counterpublics’, evoking the complex processes by which individuals avow and
disavow membership within a variety of groups, discourses and social worlds. [...]

In Warner's words, a public is ‘the social space created by the reflexive circulation of discourse’ (2002: 90). Here, Megan Macdonald and Ryan Hartigan reflect on the utility of this model for studying the critical reception of performance events. While Macdonald asks how the online circulation of reviews, blogs and diaries shape the public's reading of theatre productions, Hartigan looks at British sports writers who engage in ‘textual declarations’ that address imaginary, homogeneous publics – publics who, they often assume, share their (neocolonial) beliefs and values. Examining the critical disdain expressed by the British press towards the performance of the haka by the Aotearoa-New Zealand All Blacks rugby team, he shows how a critic's appeals to a sympathetic public can lead to social legitimation and exclusion. [...]

Per Issue Editorial, Laura Levin & Marlis Schweitzer, 1-6.
Grazing through other intellectual commentary on the arts, Ryan Hartigan turns Oscar Wilde’s aphorism "All art is useless" inside out.
Hartigan offers an alternate reading of playwright-avant garde artist Alfred Jarry's "overly performative public conduct," placing it within the context of fin-de-siècle Parisian Symbolism, focusing on performance, artifice, authenticity,... more
Hartigan offers an alternate reading of playwright-avant garde artist Alfred Jarry's "overly performative public conduct," placing it within the context of fin-de-siècle Parisian Symbolism, focusing on performance, artifice, authenticity, and self. He discusses the premiere of "Ubu Roi" as well as Symbolist "self-as-performance."
Considering the impact of camera as coloniser; cultural encounter; and colonial violence as percolated through representational practices and image-making, Hartigan discusses how InSalt's conceptualisation of colonisation via the... more
Considering the impact of camera as coloniser; cultural encounter; and colonial violence as percolated through representational practices and image-making, Hartigan discusses how InSalt's conceptualisation of colonisation via the presentness of performance is in conversation with the thematic concerns of the irrevocable impact of genetic engineering as explored in the SEEyD company's first production.

As the article traces the politics and poetics of a deliberately lengthy devising process, Hartigan's journal article is the only sustained critical assessment of the wider dramaturgical _process_ and stakes of the SEEyD company rather than the narrow boundaries of a theatre review focusing on _product_.
In the multiple temporalities of the postcolony, the wasteful time of the Indigenous, which is deemed to be past-ness, is the exemplar of ‘chronopolitics’: the systems of power that privilege particular narratives of history and are... more
In the multiple temporalities of the postcolony, the wasteful time of the Indigenous, which is deemed to be past-ness, is the exemplar of ‘chronopolitics’: the systems of power that privilege particular narratives of history and are enfolded in performance. Time’s construction and circulation lie in the quotidian, sedimenting in bodies and encounter. This played out vividly in 2007 when heavily armed paramilitary Special Tactics Group operatives conducted raids across Aotearoa-New Zealand, with the brunt falling hardest upon the Urewera homelands of Ngāi Tūhoe people. The operation was authorized by the mechanics of the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002, modeled upon the Patriot Act and passed under urgency by Parliament in response to United States pressure. One of the most haunting markers of the 2007 Urewera state terror raids is not the scale of intervention, nor even the disproportionate use of force against civilians: it is a battered shack standing sentinel over the staging point of the paramilitary forces, across the historic confiscation line on Ngāi Tūhoe homesoil, where jagged lettering scrawls one child’s fear:

I cried because we were hungry & scared
5 years old Oct 15, 2007 (Morse 2010)

As I once bitterly quipped, in this moment, a country invaded itself. Brought into its wake was the legal instrument known as the Waitangi Tribunal, a meeting point of history from above and history from below. It is not a court. It is not a judicial body. It is not a legislative body. It is not a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It is a bureaucracy. The word “bureaucracy” strikes fear into the hearts of the academic: but could it be, that this hybrid creature, breaking the normal flow of bureaucracy itself, short-circuits pastness and futurity?
Ostracized from the theatre festivals, eyes rolled at them in the comedy festivals, sometimes reaching levels of tolerance in the fringe festivals if they’re deemed experimental enough, and regularly found drinking with their fellow... more
Ostracized from the theatre festivals, eyes rolled at them in the comedy festivals, sometimes reaching levels of tolerance in the fringe festivals if they’re deemed experimental enough, and regularly found drinking with their fellow outcasts, the ventriloquists, improvisers occupy an uneasy relationship in the world of the world of theatre and performance. Their festivals of improvised performance – routinely falling into the affectionate shorthand of “improv fests” – collect together companies, troupes, and a dizzying range of genres; they customarily overflow with workshops, open both to festival participants and to artists more widely; and while gatherings and after-parties bring together artists and friends who only see each other on the festival circuit, the drinking circles are almost always permeable to audience members.
Improv fest shows are packed. The punters are hooting with delight. Why are they so overlooked in serious study, and, for that matter, by serious artists making serious theatre in serious ways surrounded by serious academics seriously academicking?
Nick Ridout argues in his book Passionate Amateurs that theatre in late capitalism can help us think afresh about notions of work, time and freedom; that “we sit in the theatre, and are worrying about community.” The “passionate amateurs” that he refers to in the title of the book are, he says, those who attempt to create “a fleeting realm of freedom.”
Whether in reference to the vast majority of performance ensembles performing unpaid at improv fests, or being disparaged by theatre “professionals,” improvisers are often greeted with “amateur” as a pejorative. But could it be, perhaps, that they are deeply passionate amateurs, in the French sense of the word meaning the “lover of”? And could the improv fest be a place where love for the deeply ephemeral creates the “fleeting realm of freedom” par excellence?
Bureaucracy provides a longstanding strategy for suffocating Indigenous advocacy. Yet, in 2013, a landmark settlement for Ngāi Tūhoe Maori in Aotearoa-New Zealand originated from a fundamentally bureaucratic mechanism: the Waitangi... more
Bureaucracy provides a longstanding strategy for suffocating Indigenous advocacy. Yet, in 2013, a landmark settlement for Ngāi Tūhoe Maori in Aotearoa-New Zealand originated from a fundamentally bureaucratic mechanism: the Waitangi Tribunal, a permanent commission of enquiry which is not a court of law, and yet acts in a feedback loop with government policy. Does this use of an instrument of bureaucracy, without the necessary concern of a court’s fear of overturning sovereignty, provide an alternative strategy for placing fissures within state power?
Bureaucracy provides a longstanding strategy for suffocating Indigenous advocacy. Yet, in 2013, a landmark settlement for Ngāi Tūhoe Maori in Aotearoa-New Zealand originated from a fundamentally bureaucratic mechanism: the Waitangi... more
Bureaucracy provides a longstanding strategy for suffocating Indigenous advocacy. Yet, in 2013, a landmark settlement for Ngāi Tūhoe Maori in Aotearoa-New Zealand originated from a fundamentally bureaucratic mechanism: the Waitangi Tribunal, a permanent commission of enquiry which is not a court of law, and yet acts in a feedback loop with government policy. Does this use of an instrument of bureaucracy, without the necessary concern of a court’s fear of overturning sovereignty, provide an alternative strategy for placing fissures within state power?
In 2007, heavily armed paramilitary Special Tactics Group operatives conducted raids across Aotearoa-New Zealand, with the brunt falling hardest upon the Urewera homelands of Ngai Tuhoe people. The operation was authorized by the... more
In 2007, heavily armed paramilitary Special Tactics Group operatives conducted raids across Aotearoa-New Zealand, with the brunt falling hardest upon the Urewera homelands of Ngai Tuhoe people. The operation was authorized by the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002, modeled upon the Patriot Act and passed under urgency by Parliament in response to United
States pressure. In the collaborative surveillance of the FVEY network, colloquially referred to as “Five Eyes,” the governments of the USA, Canada, the UK, Australia, and Aotearoa-New Zealand regarded Tuhoe activists as terrorists and threats to the rule of law.

John Frow comments that Indigenous peoples occupy a temporal fold, where their histories are disjunctive with the stabilizing power of colonial sovereignty. Tuhoe homelands mark these multiple temporalities: in 1896, Tuhoe were legally granted autonomy and self-rule in recognition of atrocities. The furtive legislative withdrawal of these rights mark a familiar
legal-historical trajectory, exposed by the 2007 performance of state power at its most brutal and neocolonial. Yet in 2014, to the backdrop of veteran Tuhoe activist Tame Iti's ongoing public performance, the Aotearoa-New Zealand parliament reached a landmark resources settlement, accompanied by an unreserved apology for land confiscation, scorched earth warfare, and genocide. Treaty Negotiations Minister Chris Finlayson characterized this recognition as one where Tuhoe had been “essentially locked out of involvement in their own homeland...today, we begin to remedy that history.”  How might this moment from the Global South, acknowledging fissures within a sovereign state, offer an alternative trajectory for figuring political structures in the post-FVEY age?
""While it provocatively reconceptualizes epistemic violences in knowledge production, Ian Maxwell observes that Performance Studies has tended to ameliorate rather than redress regional elisions in hemispheric studies. Australia and... more
""While it provocatively reconceptualizes epistemic violences in knowledge production, Ian Maxwell observes that Performance Studies has tended to ameliorate rather than redress regional elisions in hemispheric studies. Australia and Aotearoa-New Zealand, both southern hemisphere countries, remain commonly grouped in the artificial divisions assigned by the IMF and the CIA, as oddly displaced northern nations. But while tourists see Australia in terms of the shiny Sydney Opera House, Aboriginal peoples see the ongoing ripples of the Mabo legal case upon the unbroken colonial imaginary of terra nullius. While the US film industry sees Aotearoa-New Zealand as a pastoral fantasy in _The Lord of the Rings_, Ngāi Tūhoe Māori were raided by troops and framed as terrorists on their own soil in 2007. In Homi Bhabha's terms, these reveal the multiple temporalities of the postcolony – or, in these cases, internal neocolonial moments.

Particularly given the transnational flows of knowledge between Indigenous peoples, underscored by the manner in which legal proceedings have become the site for cultural memory to challenge courtrooms' models of history and rules of evidence, what might be gained from taking these lacunae in the Global South as vectors for refiguring the legacies of northern colonial jurisprudence?""

***Reciprocal sharing of this paper available for research collaboration.***
The law is an instrument for anxious exclusions of temporality, bodied forth in the site of the courtroom. Indeed, performance is deeply imbricated with the juridical practices of the Anglo-derived courtroom. In much more than a... more
The law is an instrument for anxious exclusions of temporality, bodied forth in the site of the courtroom. Indeed, performance is deeply imbricated with the juridical practices of the Anglo-derived courtroom. In much more than a metaphorical sense, law and theatricality weave together and make declarations about time, history, and what is acceptable as “evidence” to substantiate these declarations. This paper explores these claims with particular reference to the “Delgamuukw v. R” case of British Columbia, Canada, which continues the portrayal of Indigenous peoples as vanishing; the “Mabo” case in Australia, manifested in the public sphere's unease at Torres Strait Islanders' reappearance, and the “Urewera Four” case in Aotearoa-New Zealand, where Ngāi Tūhoe Māori were framed as terrorists. These moments reveal the presence of “vanishing” Indigenous bodies frustrating legal proceedings, and particularly, the successivist models of history upon which they rely.

By revealing the anxiety and instability of the courtroom, this displays more than an apparent cleave between cultures of textuality and orality. Instead, this paper invites the possibility that these acts
of untimely performance recondition the myth of legal "certainty” itself.
Hartigan argues that performance is deeply imbricated with juridical practices. Hartigan explores this with particular reference to the “Delgamuukw v. R” case in British Columbia, Canada, and the “Urewera Four” case in Aotearoa-New... more
Hartigan argues that performance is deeply imbricated with juridical practices. Hartigan explores this with particular reference to the “Delgamuukw v. R” case in British Columbia, Canada, and the “Urewera Four” case in Aotearoa-New Zealand. These moments reveal the presence of “vanishing” Indigenous bodies frustrating legal proceedings and successivist models of history. By revealing the anxiety and instability of the courtroom, this displays more than an apparent cleave between cultures of textuality and orality. Instead, this paper invites the possibility that these acts of untimely performance recondition the myth of legal "certainty” itself.
""Wesley Enoch and Deborah Mailman's “The Seven Stages of Grieving” (1995) is an Indigenous performance text from Australian company Kooemba Jdarra. It parallels Kübler-Ross' theorization of five stages of grieving with an evocation of... more
""Wesley Enoch and Deborah Mailman's “The Seven Stages of Grieving” (1995) is an Indigenous performance text from Australian company Kooemba Jdarra. It parallels Kübler-Ross' theorization of five stages of grieving with an evocation of seven stages of Aboriginal history, chronicling the personal and political history of the Murri people at the hands of colonial power. As “The Woman” observes, in “a space full of words”, reconciliation is also a “Wreck, Con, Silly, Nation. Some people write it like this.”

This alternative formulation of the word “reconciliation” bodies forth the erased voices contesting stabilized formations of history. The space of juridical and legislative ruling is resistant to the enaction of debates that are incompatible with the figuring of linear time, and particularly, the linearity initiated by the moment of enunciation; a law's passage, or the issue of a judicial opinion set an understanding of time and history from the moment of statement. Instances such as the memorable quote heading the title of this paper, where the court of British Columbia sought to specifically exclude Gitsxan and Wet'suwet'en spiritual songs, dances and performance as evidence, display the court eliding its own performativity and reading its conception of history as incompatible with the world view asserted by Indigenous embodied historiography.

This rupturing of history is examined through the recent case of the Urewera Four in Aotearoa-New Zealand, and particularly through the courtroom performances of the veteran Tūhoe Māori
activist and co-accused, Tame Iti. As part of a group seized in paramilitary operations across thecountry, under anti-terrorist laws inspired by the US Patriot Act, Iti's performative acts forcibly split the veneer of reconciliation at the heart of colonial jurisprudence.""
Even within the pantheon of public figures known only by a single name, Morrissey – singer of The Smiths and eponymous solo artist – is an especially particular persona. In one evasive, erudite, and seemingly disposable witty statement... more
Even within the pantheon of public figures known only by a single name, Morrissey – singer of The Smiths and eponymous solo artist – is an especially particular persona. In one evasive, erudite, and seemingly disposable witty statement Morrissey can disarm, charm, and alarm, oscillating between apparent sincerity and ironic disavowal. Surprisingly, for a self-confessed pre-eminent poseur, the productive nature of his posing has been under-examined. I propose
that in resonance with Foucault’s challenge to interweave ethics and aesthetics and remake the self, he makes of his life a work of art. In his public persona, he indexes an extensive photographic archive of alternative masculinities and contradictory memories, weaving a densely citational array of queer histories.

Morrissey’s promiscuous traffic between images of the past and his
public comportment are noteworthy not simply in terms of a haunting of intermedialities, but because his constant quotation of cinematic stills and famous photographs co-exists with the Morrissey concert experience par excellence: the hug. I argue that in the urge to touch, Morrissey enacts, upon multiple levels, Elizabeth Freeman’s conception of an erotohistoriography. By making his body the central site of archival encounter, he activates what Freeman elsewhere refers to as a temporal drag, an operation of the past upon the present, enabling a touching between and across temporalities.
"In The Guardian of 18 November 2008, Frank Keating made the traditional UK press pronouncement upon an All Black tour: ‘It’s time the haka posture was put out to pasture.’ The pre-match performance of the haka by the All Blacks team of... more
"In The Guardian of 18 November 2008, Frank Keating made the traditional UK press pronouncement upon an All Black tour: ‘It’s time the haka posture was put out to pasture.’  The pre-match performance of the haka by the All Blacks team of Aotearoa-New Zealand, virtually synonymous with the sport of rugby, is, in Keating’s curiously neocolonial discourse, “a pre-match native rumba.” His patronizing declaration that the omnipresence of the haka has robbed it of efficacy echoes his fellow UK scribe Stephen Jones,
who considers it altogether “discredited.”  Moreover, his call to banish the performance to the past not only acts as an eerie mirror of the accounts of the 1888 tour of the New Zealand Natives rugby team, but also reveals his desire to construct a public sphere propped by colonial legacies of time and space.

However, this burden of embarrassment that he assumes on behalf of the performers acts as an “embarrass,” to refigure Nicholas Ridout’s sense of the word. The haka functions as an “embarrass,” an affective obstacle to foreclosed narratives of assimilation.  In doing so, it moves beyond simply referencing history to twin 1888 and 2008 as temporally connected moments, where relations with the past touch upon contemporary bodies to be materially present.  By interrogating the postcolonial through performance, I argue that the overemphasis upon the haka as savage and
backward brings underlying colonial anxieties to the fore, enabling the performance to interrogate and dismantle colonial chronology itself.  In the face of both binarized postcolonial readings and naive stabilizations of national unity alike, the haka intervenes with powerful and productive disunities."
"In The Guardian of 18 November 2008, Frank Keating made the traditional UK press pronouncement upon an All Black tour: ‘It’s time the haka posture was put out to pasture.’ The pre-match performance of the haka by the All Blacks team of... more
"In The Guardian of 18 November 2008, Frank Keating made the traditional UK press pronouncement upon an All Black tour: ‘It’s time the haka posture was put out to pasture.’  The pre-match performance of the haka by the All Blacks team of Aotearoa-New Zealand, virtually synonymous with the sport of rugby, is, in Keating’s curiously neocolonial discourse, “a pre-match native rumba.” His patronizing declaration that the omnipresence of the haka has robbed it of efficacy echoes his fellow UK scribe Stephen Jones,
who considers it altogether “discredited.”  Moreover, his call to banish the performance to the past not only acts as an eerie mirror of the accounts of the 1888 tour of the New Zealand Natives rugby team, but also reveals his desire to construct a public sphere propped by colonial legacies of time and space.

However, this burden of embarrassment that he assumes on behalf of the performers acts as an “embarrass,” to refigure Nicholas Ridout’s sense of the word. The haka functions as an “embarrass,” an affective obstacle to foreclosed narratives of assimilation.  In doing so, it moves beyond simply referencing history to twin 1888 and 2008 as temporally connected moments, where relations with the past touch upon contemporary bodies to be materially present.  By interrogating the postcolonial through performance, I argue that the overemphasis upon the haka as savage and
backward brings underlying colonial anxieties to the fore, enabling the performance to interrogate and dismantle colonial chronology itself.  In the face of both binarized postcolonial readings and naive stabilizations of national unity alike, the haka intervenes with powerful and productive disunities."
On Wednesday, Oct. 29, at 4:30 p.m. in Clark House Room 100 at Amherst College, Ryan Hartigan, from the Theatre and Performance Studies Department at Brown University, will present a paper entitled “'There Will Be No Performance in my... more
On Wednesday, Oct. 29, at 4:30 p.m. in Clark House Room 100 at Amherst College, Ryan Hartigan, from the Theatre and Performance Studies Department at Brown University, will present a paper entitled “'There Will Be No Performance in my Courtroom!': Staging the Time of the Law.” This is the second presentation in a series of seminars this year on the theme “Law as Performance.”

Ryan Hartigan is from Aotearoa, New Zealand. His research includes law and performance, indigenous performance and the law, and intersections between theatre and law. He has published and presented several papers related to indigenous studies, law and society, and postcolonial studies. Ryan is also the artist-in-residence with the Contemporary Theater Company in South County, RI.

To receive a copy of the paper which will examine the historical acceptance performance and legality [you can read the revised and published version of this talk, " 'This is a trial, not a performance!' -  Staging the Time of the Law", as a solicited/commissioned book chapter in the book _Law and Performance_, the first volume dedicated to the emergent field of Law and Performance, published in the prestigious Amherst Series in Law, Jurisprudence, and Social Thought]

This event is co-sponsored by The Lamont Lecture Fund.