Tadeusz Kantor - Writings
Tadeusz Kantor - Writings
Tadeusz Kantor - Writings
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Review: TDR
Michal Kobialka
Note
I. The Theatre of Death manifesto was translated by Voy T. and Margaret Stelmas-
zynski for Canadian Theatre Review CTR 16, Fall I977. Prison was translated by
Grazyna Branny for Kantor's program booklet sold at performances of Let the
Artists Die and edited by M. Kobialka.
I applied
the concept of the Autonomous Theatre
to two productions of
the Underground Experimental Theatre,
which were staged in
1942
and
1944,
as well as to the postwar productions
of the Cricot 2 Theatre
in I956, 1957, and I960.
The theatre which I call autonomous
is the theatre which is not
a reproductive mechanism,
i.e., a mechanism whose aim is to
present an interpretation of a piece of literature
on stage,
but a mechanism which
has its own independent
existence.
Due to the notion of unity
which is an inherent part of
a true work of art,
this concept,
which is as complex as the nature of theatre
and the creative process,
cannot be fully explained
unless all its germinal parts are defined.
At least, all the theatrical elements
must be integrated to a degree and
create a composite unit.
Because the term
the "highest"
(degree of integration)
does not mean anything
and thus leaves room for misunderstandings
let us label it
the zero (degree).
I do not apply the concept of
the autonomous theatre
to explain
the dramatic text, The relationship between
to translate it theatre and drama
into the language of theatre,
to interpret it
similar;
weathered by wind and rain;
worn out;
useless;
randomly connected with a wire;
and put into motion;
Their movement could be described in terms of human psychology:
it is sudden,
furious,
nervous,
convulsive,
dying out,
uncoordinated,
ridiculous,
monotonous,
threatening.
It emits a
dull death rattle.
This huge object
has many functions:
to eliminate,
to push aside,
to work eternally
without any pattern and thought;
to perturb,
to look ridiculously funny and immensely tragic;
to fascinate; to draw us to it, and to push us aside.
I created an object Obj ect
Circus is Circus
at the roots of this theatre.
Its comical,
sharp,
clownish
character, which
stretches beyond accepted life conventions,
is like a filter
through which human actions are
passed to remove
the particles that blur their perception and sharpness.
The actor in this uncompromising The Actor
arrangement
must reveal and relinquish his
clumsiness,
poverty,
and dignity
to the spectator.
He must appear
defenseless,
without safety
shields,
in front of the audience.
that it is perceived as
the only one that is
true and in agreement
with the text.
In my last production (The Madman and the Nun)
a dramatic text The text
is not presented but
discussed,
commented upon;
the actors speak the lines,
reject them,
return to them,
and repeat them;
the parts are not assigned
thus, the actors do not identify with the text.
The performance turns into
a mill grinding the text-
Does the mill "interpret" the product which it grinds?
However, these sorts of questions and problems,
which are difficult and uneasy in terms of the old conventions,
are pointless in the arrangement I am suggesting.
All we have to do is to "construct the mill."
"Action" in the old naturalistic theatre
is always connected with
the progression of events of
the dramatic text.
The Elements of theatre:
"action"
and acting
rage blindly
through a narrow passage.
How naive and
poor
this method is.
All we have to do is to be able to see
in order to get to the heart of
the stage "action" of the
theatre elements. The text a nd action
In order not to destroy the text
during this process,
the text and the action must be exposed
This seems to be impossible to achieve
from the perspective of life's practical re
In art-and in this case
in theatre-
as a result of our action,
we will create a reality
whose elements will be loosely connected;
which will be easy to mold.
This act of nullification of actions,
of placing them in the state of weightlessness,
of juggling with them,
allows us to intertwine them with
pure theatrical activities,
which are elements of theatre.
and idleness
(in the times of Zola,
naturalism was exposed to
scathing criticism);
pseudo-expressionist theatre,
which, after the authentic
deformation of expressionism,
was left with nothing more than
a stylized, dead
grimace;
pseudo-surrealistic theatre
which makes use of deplorable
surrealist ornamentations that
resemble the taste of shop window designers;
theatre which does not want to take risks
and, having nothing to say, employs
moderate cultural policy that
is dressed up in eclectic elegance;
pseudo-modern theatre, which makes use
of various gimmicks taken out of different
fields of modern art.
In real life, reaching the zero state
means negation and destruction.
In art, the same process might give
3. The Dead Class totally different results.
destruction,
nullification of
phenomena, elements,
events,
relieves them of the
burden of leading
a practical life
and allows them
to turn into stage material
which is molded independently.
Even though the end result might appear to be similar, I have always
insisted on keeping it separated from surrealist or expressionist experi-
ments and their obsessions or exhibitionism.
(Fully) autonomous artistic endeavor (in theatre, I mean) does not exist
according to the principles or norms of everyday life. For this very reason
neither any positive nor negative value judgments can be applied to ap-
praise it.
When it first emerged, this idea of "growth" signified man's tragic ex-
pansion, or a heroic struggle to transcend human dimensions and desti-
nies. With the passing of time, it turned into a mere show requiring pow-
erful elements of a spectacle and the acceptance of violent and
irresponsible illusion; convincing shapes and a thoughtless procreation of
forms.
This pushy, morbidly inflamed, and pretentious form pushed aside the
object and thus what was "real." The entire process ended up in pathetic
pomposity.
The movement in the opposite direction: downward into the sphere below
THE ACCEPTED WAY OF LIFE,
which is possible by elimination,
destruction,
misshaping,
reduction of energy,
cooling;
[the movement] in the direction of emptiness,
DEFORMITY,
non-form
is an ILLUSION-CRUSHING process
and the only chance to touch upon reality!
The symptoms of this process are momentous:
Pragmatic forms of life cease to be binding,
a creative process loses its sacred status and allegedly its only function-
to create-which has become nothing more than a burden.
An object loses the meanings which were thoughtlessly assigned to it,
its symbolism-
and reveals its
autonomous
loss of rhythm,
repetition,
elimination through noise,
stupidity,
cliches,
automatic action,
terror;
by disinformation,
withholding information,
dissecting plot,
decomposing acting;
by acting poorly,
acting "on the sly,"
acting "non-acting"!
These actions
are accompanied by
specific mental states-
on the condition that these actions are neither independent of nor trig-
gered by these states.
These actions are appearances of specific mental states rather than the
symptoms of cause and effect.
These mental states are
isolated, groundless, autonomous.
And as such they can be perceived as the factors influencing artistic
creation.
Here are some of them:
apathy,
melancholy,
exhaustion,
amnesia,
dissociation,
neurosis,
depression,
unresponsiveness,
frustration,
minimalization,
distraction,
boredom,
impotence,
sluggishness,
tearfulness,
senility,
sclerotic or
maniacal states,
schizophrenia,
misery . . .
Let us try to list some of the life conditions which are charged with in-
tense emotion and deep meaning . ..
LOVE, JEALOUSY, LUST, PASSION, GREED, CUNNING, COW-
ARDICE, REVENGE, MURDER, SUICIDE, WAR, HEROISM,
FEAR, SUFFERING...
For a long time, this "highly inflammable" material has served theatre
and art as a primary source for literary plots, dramatic action, peripeteias,
conflicts, and sensational denouements.
Its inherent characteristics to expand and defuse [plots] have determined the
choice of formal means of expression, which of course were of a similar
nature and effect:
expressio n,
mo d in g,
fo r m,
ill u s i o n,
naturalistic a p p roach to life,
"fi gurativeness..."
3. Non-acting:
Is the state of
non-acting possible
(that is, if we take for granted the existence of a stage
and a play, la piece, das Stuck)?
Is this state of non-acting possible,
even though the stage automatically imposes upon us its identification as
a place to act and
a play as a genre which is meant to be acted?
This obtrusive question
has long been associated in my work
with the wish (which might seem to be the portent of
maniacal eccentricity,
or stubborn pedantry)
to achieve
full autonomy of the theatre;
so that everything that happens on stage
would become an event-
perhaps a different one from
those that occur in the audience's spatial and temporal reality of life-but
still an event with
its own life and consequences rather than an artificial one.
I wish for a situation
in which one could discard the so-called "acting"
(supposedly the only way for an actor to behave "on stage"),
which is nothing more than
naive pretense,
exulted mannerism,
irresponsible illusion!
He would create his own chain of events, states, situations which would
either clash with those in the play or be somehow completely isolated
from them.
This seems impossible to achieve.
However, those attempts to cross over this borderline of the IMPOSSI-
BILITY are fascinating.
4. Anti-activity:
5. Surreptitious Acting:
6. Erasing:
Erasing is a method which
is often used in art.
The old Masters knew it well.
I am thinking about paintings. I am thinking about situations in which
erasing is visible
and meaningful.
I passionately used this method in the Informel Art.
When too many distracting densities of form were squeezed into
some part of a painting
I could erase them in one move-
to the naught,
to nothingness which devoured those protruding parts.
One could say that this movement of the hand was cruel,
that it condemned, wrought destruction, and eliminated those forms
from the face of the earth.
But those areas of nothingness and silence have jealously guarded the
secrets of the past epochs.
The act of erasing could also be equated with the simple act of
cleaning up,
of leaving the center of the room cleanly swept by
pushing litter and other rubbish against the walls or into the corne
and thus depriving them of any meaning. We are just a step awa
the time when this act of e r a s i n g can be transferred onto th
7. Internalization of expression:
as if sucked in
and only empty gestures remain.
Reduce meanings
to merely phonetic values,
juggle with words
to bring up their other meanings,
"dissolve" their content,
loosen their logical bonds,
repeat.
12. Automation:
14. Emballage:
began to satisfy the vulgar taste of the mob. At the moment when they
finally ordered a similar monument built for themselves-the modern
theatre, as we know it only too well and as it has lasted to this day, was
born. A clamorous Public Service Institute. With it appeared the AC-
TOR. In defense of his theory Craig cites the opinion of Eleanora Duse:
"to save the theatre, it must be destroyed, it is necessary for all actors
and actresses to die of plague . . . for it is they who render art impossi-
ble ... "
Not only Craig's idea but also that whole elaborate progra
bolism-impressive in its own time-had in the Igth century t
of isolated and unique phenomena announcing a new era an
Heinrich von Kleist, Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffman, E
Poe. . . . One hundred years earlier, Kleist, for the same reaso
demanded the substitution of the actor by the marionette; he r
human organism, which is subject to the laws of NATURE, a
intrusion into Artistic Fiction, based on the principle of Constr
Intellect. This accounts for his reproaches stressing the limited
of man and charges of an incessantly controlling conscious
excludes the concepts of grace and beauty.
scruples from the beginning of this century, from the period of Symbol-
ism and Art Nouveau. The two possible solutions-either autonomous
art and intellectual structure, or naturalism-ceased to be the ONLY
ones. When the theatre, in its moments of weakness, submitted to the
live organism of man and his laws-it automatically and logically agreed
to the form or imitation of life, its presentation and re-creation. In the
opposite circumstances, when the theatre was strong and independent
enough to free itself from the pressure of life and man, it created artificial
equivalents to life which turned out to be more alive, because they sub-
mitted easily to the abstractions of space and time and were capable of
achieving absolute unity.
Today these possibilities are neither appropriate nor valid alternatives.
For a new situation and new conditions have arisen in art. The appearance
of the concept of READY-MADE REALITY, extracted from life-and
the possibilities of ANNEXING it, INTEGRATING it into a work of
art through DECISION, GESTURE or RITUAL-has become a fascina-
tion much stronger than (artificially) CONSTRUED reality, than the cre-
ation of ABSTRACTION, or the surrealistic world, than Breton's MI-
RACULOUSNESS. Happenings, Events and Environments with their
colossal momentum, have achieved the rehabilitation of whole regions of
REALITY, disdained until this time, cleansing it of the ballast of life's
intentions.
However, as with all fascination so too this one, after a time, was trans-
formed into a convention practiced universally, senselessly, and in a vul-
gar manner. These almost ritualistic manipulations of Reality, connected
as they are with the contestation of ARTISTIC STATUS and the PLACE
reserved for art, gradually started to acquire different sense and meaning.
The material, physical PRESENCE of an object and PRESENT TIME,
the only possible context for activity and action-turned out to be too
burdensome, had reached their limits. The TRANSGRESSION signified:
depriving these conditions of their material and functional IMPOR-
TANCE, that is, of their COMMUNICATIVENESS. Because this is
the latest period, still current and not yet closed, the observations which
follow derive from and are tied with my own creativity.
The object (The Chair, Oslo, 1970) became empty, deprived of expres-
sion, connections, references, characteristics of programmed communication,
its "message"; directed "nowhere," it changed into a dummy.
Situations and activities were locked into their own CIRCUMFER-
ENCE: the ENIGMATIC (theatre of the impossible, 1973), in my m
festo entitled "Cambriollage," followed the unlawful INTRUSION
that terrain where tangible reality was transformed into its INVIS
EXTENSIONS. The role of THOUGHT, memory, and TIME beco
increasingly clear.
The certitude impressed itself upon me more and more strongly that the
concept of LIFE can be vindicated in art only through the ABSENCE OF
LIFE in its conventional sense (again Craig and the Symbolists!), this pro-
cess of DEMATERIALIZATION SETTLED on a path which circum-
vented in my creative work the whole orthodoxy of linguistics and con-
ceptualism. This was probably caused in part by the colossal throng
which arose on this already official course and which will unfortunately
become the latest installment of the DADAIST current with its slogans of
TOTAL ART, EVERYTHING IS ART, ALL ARE ARTISTS, ART IS
IN THE MIND, etc.
I hate crowds. In 1973 I wrote a draft of a new manifesto which takes
into consideration this false situation. This is its beginning:
I have more confidence in such a situation. Any new era always begins
with actions of little apparent significance and little note, incidents having
little in common with the recognized trend, actions that are private, inti-
mate, I would even say-shameful. Vague. And difficult! These are the
most fascinating and essential moments of creativity.
I do not share the belief that the MANNEQUIN (or WAX FIGURE)
could replace the LIVE ACTOR, as Kleist and Craig wanted. This would
be too simple and naive. I am trying to delineate the motives and intent
of this unusual creature which has suddenly appeared in my thoughts and
ideas. Its appearance complies with my ever-deepening conviction that it
is possible to express life in art only through the absence of life, through an
appeal to DEATH, through APPEARANCES, through EMPTINESS
and the lack of a MESSAGE.
For the moment of the ACTOR's first appearance before the HOUS
(to use current terminology) seems to me, on the contrary: revolutionar
and avant-garde. I will even try to compile and "ascribe to History" a
completely different picture, in which the course of events will have
meaning quite the opposite ... ! From the common realm of customar
and religious rituals, common ceremonies and common people's activitie
advanced SOMEONE, who made the risky decision to BREAK with the
ritualistic Community. He was not driven by conceit (as in Craig) to
become an object of universal attention. This would have been too sim-
plistic. Rather it must have been a rebellious mind, sceptical, heretical,
free and tragic, daring to remain alone with Fate and Destiny. If we also
add "with its ROLE," we will then have before us the ACTOR. This
revolt took place in the realm of art. Said event, or rather manifestation,
probably caused much confusion of thought and clashing of opinions.
This ACT was undoubtedly seen as a disloyalty to the old ritualistic tradi-
tions and practices, as secular arrogance, as atheism, as dangerous subver-
sive tendencies, as scandal, as amorality, as indecency; people must have
seen in it elements of clownery, buffoonery, exhibitionism and deviation.
The author himself, set apart from society, gained for himself not only
implacable enemies, but also fanatical admirers. Condemnation and glory
simultaneously. It would be guilty of a ludicrous and shallow formalism
to interpret this act of SEVERANCE (RUPTURE) as egotism, as a lust
for glory or latent inclinations toward acting. It must have implied some-
thing much greater, a MESSAGE of extraordinary import. We will try to
illustrate this fascinating situation: OPPOSITE those who remained on
this side there stood a MAN DECEPTIVELY SIMILAR to them, yet (by
some secret and ingenious "operation") infinitely DISTANT, shockingly
FOREIGN, as if DEAD, cut off by an invisible BARRIER-no less hor-
rible and inconceivable, whose real meaning and THREAT appears to us
only in DREAMS. As though in a blinding flash of lightning, they sud-
denly perceived a glaring, tragically circus-like IMAGE OF MAN, as if
they had seen him FOR THE FIRST TIME, as if they had seen THEIR
VERY SELVES. This was certainly a shock-a meta-physical shock, we
might even say. The live effigy of MAN emerging out of the shadows, as
if constantly walking ahead of himself, was the dominant MESSAGE of
its new HUMAN CONDITION, only HUMAN, with its RESPONSI-
BILITY, its tragic CONSCIOUSNESS, measuring its FATE on an in-
exorable and final scale, the scale of DEATH. This revelatory MES-
SAGE, which was transmitted from the realm of DEATH, evoked in the
VIEWERS (let us now call them by our own term) a metaphysical shock.
And the reference to DEATH, to its tragic and MENACING beauty,
were the means and art of that ACTOR (also according to our own
terminology).
lo. RECAPITULATION
I :J:a
:jaIrg^'
m600r1cr<la
consistent
all-binding.
Only then do the dead
become (for the living)
noteworthy
for that highest price
achieving
their individuality
distinction
their CHARACTER
glaring
and almost
circus-like.
a manifestation and
a spiritual activity of man;
an expression of his highest
mental and spiritual f a c u 1 t i e s.
It should be perceived as an
incessant i m p u 1 s e which stimulates
one's mind and psyche
rather than a symptom.
In order to avoid
any misunderstandings,
it should be clearly indicated that
by the process in its act of creation I do not mean
the process of creation
of this "product" ("work of art"),
nor its manifestation,
extolling the
process of getting ready
or of revealing the "back-stage" details of
the act of creation.
What I mean by the process in the act of creation is
a particular conduct
which is specified by its inner structure;
which does not end
nor can be ended
with the final touch of a brush.
If such a situation is
impossible
and inconceivable
in life,
or in art,
this "impossible"
could be achieved successfully
on the condition that
the elements of this
"p r o c e s s"
are bereft of any other aim
(of any right to be the means
to effective, pragmatic, and specific ends),
than simply
to be perfectly u s e 1 e s s
and thus d e v o i d of any interest in the action.
The results of this particular way of thinking, which acquire due signifi-
cance in concrete situations, reveal in full the scope of changes they intro-
duce and the depth of dimensions which can be perceived thanks to them.
Due to the colossal baggage of habitual actions, which might seem to be
an inborn routine or in compliance with natural laws, an attitude of ever-
lasting contestation; of constant control and correction (especially necessary
in such a complex work as a work in theatre is); or simply, highly devel-
oped awareness combined with intuition (in art, they are inseparable) are
indispensable to prevent being sidetracked while following those habitual
actions.
The physical rendering of the "work of art" has always been connected
with the whole spectrum of activities. These activities embrace the act of
creation "o u t o f n o t h i n g" (which was a symptom of extreme
twine with the crude life-matter and result in notorious essemblage that is
elegantly called-the act of creation.
Second: the experiences drawn from the Anti-Exhibition had nothing in
common with the basic assumptions regarding the tendency to substitute
the phenomenon of THE WORK OF ART (a product of sublime activi-
ties) for a completely independent structure whose crucial part was the
PROCESS itself. My concept was far more complicated. It embraced a
whole spectrum of activities which occurred suddenly and randomly;
which were not self-sufficient; which suggested an unreachable GOAL, a
possibility of a FULFILLMENT: the PORTENT of the FINAL FORM,
CLIMAX, FINALE, or THE WORK OF ART. The germ of my con-
cept was to reject the idea of a COMPLETE and FINISHED WORK OF
ART, to discard the feeling of satisfaction derived from the DENOUE-
MENT, and to focus on ATTEMPTS and nothing but ATTEMPTS!
Those attempts were often futile, full of mistakes, corrections, changes,
variations, and repetitions.
Those feverish and anxious ATTEMPTS must be recognized as true
creativity. To deprive those ATTEMPTS of their CONSEQUENCES
might be unimaginable, absurd, heretical, or even nihilistic. But we must
deprive them of their consequences! Having done so we will gain a NEW
STRUCTURE; the viewer's imagination will construct the SHAPE and
the CONTENT of this new something which will no longer be called A
WORK OF ART.
Let me say a few words about an actor's creativity, which some fools
perceive as either the art of reproduction or refuse to describe as art at all.
Their arguments were sound for our ancestors, but they lost significance
a long time ago. They were based on the assumption that an actor only
re-creates a part which was created by the playwright. It should be men-
tioned that the idea of the playwright as the body and soul of theatre has
been impugned many a time. I do not intend to join this dispute, but let
me assert that the belief that the playwright is the key person in theatre
has ceased to be the true issue. The author of the text surely is not the
author of the performance. The concept of the autonomous theatre is
always worth remembering, especially in times of crisis and decay. Espe-
cially in these times we should not give it up. My speculations are not
rooted in my desire to diminish the role of the playwright. On the con-
trary, I have always been a proponent of the existence of the text as a
prime example of condensed reality. Probably I was among those few
artists who believed that reality which was artistically procured (for ex-
ample in The Anatomy Lesson based on Rembrandt's painting) could be
treated as ready-made reality-l'objet pret. I frequently made use of it in
the times when happenings were a prevailing trend. The text written by
the author falls into the category of this kind of ready-made reality. A
literary text was separated from the performances of Cricot 2 and was
treated as a semantic entity which, I believe, is in compliance with its
structure and function. But the semantic value of the text should not be a
primary source either of the stage action or acting. The latter is fully
autonomous and should be derived from and shaped by the actor's
creativity.
New Theatrical S P A C E.
Where F IC T I O N Appears.
I980
The process of extending the sphere of Fiction and Imagination into the
sphere of the reality of our lives was colored by metaphysics which, in
fact, was an inherent part of this process. This process of extension
changed entirely the perception of theatre. The first perception to be
modified was that of the concept of theatrical space, which ought to be
conditioned by the sphere of life.
However, the stage, the auditorium, theatre-thus the traditional and
conventional space which was equipped to "receive" drama or Fiction
(neutral, "abstract," sterile, uncontaminated by life)-cannot possibly be
the plane in which fiction could be elevated, and then reach the plateau of
life. Theatre was thus the least suitable place for this process to take place,
and there arose a need to find a space outside of it-in reality.
DIGRESSION CONTINUED.
STAGE IL L U S I 0 N AND ITS UR-MATTER:
Before the mansion of illusion was torn to pieces, charm, atmosphere, and
the poetry of the back stage had been noticed.
There is a moment in the theatre when malicious and poisonous charms
operate. It is when the lights go out, and the audience leaves; when the
auditorium is empty and grey mist descends upon the objects on the de-
serted stage; when the magnificent scenery and costumes, which a mo-
ment ago were glittering in the lights of the ramp, are reduced to com-
mon materials; when the gestures and emotions, which were full of life
and passion, have faded. Maybe then we will desire to walk across the
stage to find the remnants of life, which moved us a moment ago, as we
would walk through a cemetery. Was it only fiction? That was why the
symbolists were fascinated by the poetry of poor scenery and costumes
which were made of paper, by the pathos of melancholic Pierrots and
jugglers, who concealed their wrinkles, defeats, and the tragedy of hu-
man existence behind their masks. The stage, the MARKET SQUARE
BOOTH STAGE, this empty world is like life's final burst of energy
before it dissipates into eternity; it is like an illusion. At the doorway of a
poor shack, there stands an old Pierrot who quested for his Colombine in
vain. His make-up is smudged by tears.
There arose the need for a more active perception of the work on stage
and of a work of art in general.
It was apparent that the work itself had to be modified in the process of
activating the senses. Its structure and function had to be changed. The
work ceased to be a reflection of life which connoted a safe perception and
a comfortable condition for the spectator. It became a challenge, a provo-
cation, an indictment, which demanded that the spectator express opin-
ions and answer the questions that were posed. The work was directed at
him. The spectator could not remain passive.
Illusion, which used to stand between these events and the audience, had
to disappear.
Therefore, the distance established by the ramp and the proscenium,
which like a moat in the zoo guarded spectators from the attacks of wild
animals, was demolished.
The acting space was detached from an illusory horizon and pushed for-
ward toward the audience.
Having done so, there was no place for deceptive scenery and palaces. A
stage floor, bridges, stairs, and platforms were enough. Acting, which
was limited by the fourth wall in the past, was open to the audience.
On the one hand, the purpose of this revolution in theatre was to make
the audience participate actively in what was happening on stage and in
the performance. To be more precise, the aim was to make them partici-
pate actively in fiction and illusion. On the other hand, its purpose was to
diminish the border between fiction and life, to create the illusion (sic!)
that we were observing life activities.
The former goal was achieved by the rejection of all the devices which
were used by illusion; by mixing up the place of stage action with this
reserved for the spectators; by placing the actors among the audience and
the audience among the actors. In the hospital, the audience sat on the
beds of the patients; in the prison, they shared the cell with the inmates;
in street fights, they were so close to the fighting that it should have been
required of them to participate . . . But, of course, that never happened.
In yet other settings, the audience was placed among the furniture in the
living room. However, the living room was not a real one, but a repre-
sentation of a living room whose description could be found in drama,
and thus in the sphere of fiction. Therefore, a spectator was only a specta-
tor and perceived as such he was placed there illegally, falsely, or even
untactfully.
The placement of the spectator and the actor at the same "level," giving
them (more or less) equal rights, the hope that thefiction of drama and of
acting would lose their undesirable characteristics and get closer to truth
and reality, were a result of the naive new faith of the constructivist revo-
lution, which firmly believed in the possibility of creating a magnificent
world in which the perfect integration of life and art could take place.
Later (that is nowadays) the same concepts, when enunciated by our
"false" avant-garde, which is bereft of knowledge and scruples, sound flat
and stupid.
The latter goal, whose purpose was to get rid of illusion, was even more
difficult to achieve. A lot has been done to reduce the power of Fiction, to
bring it closer to life, and to make it a part of life reality. The stage action
was placed not in the theatre but in an authentic place which was analo-
gous to that of the play. Kaiser's Gas was played in a refinery. But this
radical solution was nothing more than a naive and false attempt. Even
though the Fiction of drama was transferred to the plane of reality, it did
not cease to exist. Moreover, this exact tautology, this parallel existence
of the text of the place and the real space was often a naturalistic device
which could easily have been used by Stanislavski. The Fiction of the
drama was still treated in a conventional way-it was performed! The place
was forgotten . . . after a few brief moments. One could assert that the
spectator was placed in the center of the action. But it might as well have
been said that the degree of illusion was multiplied. The spectator was
placed in a center which was full of illusion and, of course, of fiction. But
this multiplication of illusion was only discovered after the spectator had
left the theatre-or, I should say, a refinery-when illusion dissolved.
All these devices, methods, and struggles, which were undertaken during
that heroic time of the revolution and avant-garde in art, had their un-
questionable rights and a colossal power of convincing anyone by their
radical character. Therefore, it should not come as a surprise that they
helped mold my imagination when I was young. Only later, during the
war, did I discover the numerous inconsistencies and shortcomings of this
approach.
That was when I made my own discovery.
All the above mentioned battles between constructivism and illusion and
fiction, all the attempts to destroy the latter were only formal.
This was because the meaning of the concept, which stood in opposition
to reality, had not been precisely defined.
REALITY "IS." It is IN LIFE, IN THE REALITY OF OUR LIVES.
ILLUSION and FICTION (of drama and of acting) have not been de-
stroyed because they were not set against the true REALITY.
FICTION has not come in contact with REALITY; it has found its ex-
tension in REALITY.
There was no REALNESS. There was only a place, THEATRE, which,
like a sanctuary, was separated from life and was dedicated to aesthetic
experiences.
Therefore, the spectator still found himself in the space which was re-
served for theatre, in the institution whose job was to smuggle in and
manipulate fiction.
The spectator was coaxed into believing that he experienced fiction as if
he were experiencing "reality of life."
Theatre should not create the illusion of reality which is contained in the
drama. This reality of drama must become the reality on stage. The stage
"matter" (that is the stage, its fascinating atmosphere not yet spoiled by
the illusion of drama and the actor's readiness to perform any part) must
not be stifled nor covered up with illusion. It must stay crude and raw. It
must be ready to face and clash with a new reality, that of the drama.
The creation of reality, which is as concrete as the auditorium, rather than
the creation of illusion, which makes the audience feel safe, should be the
ultimate goal on stage.
The drama on stage must be "created" rather than "take place." It must
develop in front of the audience. The drama is being created.
The plot development should be spontaneous and unpredictable.
A spectator must not feel the presence of the machinery which has always
been a part of the theatre.
Therefore, one should avoid situations which might bring back this feel-
ing, but one should add the situation that might expose a spontaneous
growth of drama.
This act of drama "being created" cannot be hidden in the wings. One
must not allow for drama to sneak into the domain of the stage manager
or the backstage machinery.
The reality of the auditorium is included in the process of the develop-
ment and vice versa.
Before you create a new stage, you must create a new audience. The
performance should be the act by which the new audience is brought into
being.
. . .The room was destroyed. There was war and there were t
of such rooms. They all looked alike: bare bricks stared from
coat of paint, plaster was hanging from the ceiling, boards we
in the floor, abandoned parcels were covered with dust (they
used as the seating), debris was scattered around; plain boards r
of the deck of a sailing ship were discarded at the horizon of thi
decor; a gun barrel was resting on a heap of iron scrap; a mili
speaker was hanging from a rusty metal rope. The bent figur
meted soldier wearing a faded overcoat stood against the wal
day, June 6, 1944 [D-Day], he became a part of this room. He c
and sat down to rest. Despite his poor condition, he carried a
air. When everything returned to normal after the intrusion fro
side, when the date was established, and when all the element
room seemed to become indispensable elements of this compos
soldier turned his head to the audience and said this one sentence: "I am
Odysseus, I have returned from Troy." This everyday REALNESS,
which was firmly rooted in both place and time, immediately permitted
the audience to perceive this mysterious current flowing from the depth
of time when the soldier, whose presence could not have been ques-
tioned, called himself by the name of the man who had died centuries
ago. A split second was needed to see this return, but the emotion raised
by it stayed much longer ... in memory!
... The FICTION of drama was the sphere of death ... the dead
characters . . . the past for me. Realness, into which this FICTION en-
tered, had to be extremely prosaic, mundane, and of the low rank. It had
to be a part of our times and our lives. This particular use of a "stage
device" had nothing to do with the avant-garde trend of the twenties to
dissolve the borders between fiction and life and to turn the spectators into
the witnesses of a true event.
My attitude toward the realness of life was not particularly specified.
Neither did I maintain that this realness should have been consolidated. It
was only an extremely important and necessary condition and medium of
"rendering" fiction or the world of the dead. In our perception we have
two images imposed on each other-one coming from our reality and the
other one from the world "beyond." This process of achieving a total
picture was almost a mysterious ritual which was celebrated as if it were
illegally in a secret place or in deep corners of our consciousness; on a
deserted plane of life or an eerie cemetery where the living build houses
for the dead.
On the other hand, this method had nothing in common with the
"mystery" of surrealism. I did not find it necessary to consolidate (this is
the term which I use to refer to the process of blocking a production)
strangeness, pure elements of the absurd, illogical associations which can
be found in art. These elements, called "mystery" in literature, turned
into bizarre elements once transferred onto the stage. The plays of Wit-
kiewicz as staged in the professional theatre could serve as a prime exam-
ple here. No one has realized, or maybe no one has understood, that this
"surrealistic" mystery which is contained in the literary structure of the
plays cannot textually be transferred into another structure, theatrical or
otherwise. Moreover, the time of heroic battles of surrealism has long
passed away and faded from memory. This mystery must be found
somewhere else.
The following are the notes I took during the rehearsals of Wielopole,
Wielopole. They describe content rather than physical space, since the
space was simultaneously the content and the thought of this spectacle.
OF THE PAST. This is the room which we keep constructing over and
over again and which is destroyed over and over again. This pulsating
rhythm must be maintained, because it delineates the real structure of our
memory. At the same time the ROOM cannot be "furnished"; cannot be
the place beyond which the seating begins; cannot be the stage. If it were,
the room would be nothing more than a scene design, which would irre-
vocably crush our hopes for achieving r e a 1 n e s s.
Postscriptum:
Wielopole, Wielopole has just seen the light. Maybe, many of i
and mysteries will be explained in the near future.
THEATRE.
Reflection
1985
Against the background of the dark and dirty Earth, I saw a bright spot
the size of a saucer.
It was shining too brightly to be a part of that earthly matter out of
which everything else has been created.
When I raised my eyes above the rooftops, I saw the sky, which was
shining as brightly as the spot, and which did not belong to this Earth
either.
The "something" that was shining was the sky reflected in a piece of a
broken mirror.
Reflection.
A phenomenon abused by art which defies naturalism.
A man who, for the first time, saw his reflection in the still waters must
have experienced an illumination. Against the advice of surrealists one
must not step into, God forbid, must not walk through the surface of the
mirror.
Remain in front of it.
The reflection itself is a wonder. A mystery of the universe is enclosed in
it. [This reflection shows] reality which is as if split into two, moved
I want to restore to the word reflection its essential meaning and implica-
tions which are tragic, dangerous, and much deeper than those which we
were taught to believe in by the false con-missionaries of the truth-to-
nature dogma. Neither copying nor recreating is the issue here.
Something far more important is. The extension of our reality beyond its
boundaries so that we can better cope with it in our lives.