A rehearsal with James Beckett

Last week I had the opportunity to sneak into a couple of rehearsals of Zakłady na Życie (Plant-Life), the performance that James Beckett is preparing for the Festival a/d Werf 2010. In this work in progress, he is looking for something subtle that escapes clear-cut definitions. Neither fully a performance but also not a work of visual art. Probably the realm where this work could be more accurately placed is that of music. Throughout the rehearsal, James often refers to the performers as musicians. This does not mean that they actually play music, at least not by standard accounts of what music is. But they understand movements and words in a way which is akin to that of musicians. Their craft is not that of emotions and storytelling, and not even that of actions and sounds. Their work is inserted in the universe of silences and notes, of rhythms, repetition and sequences that engage with the time and space of the performance with the elegance of a minimalist opera. It is not by accident that he often refers to the work of Robert Ashley, a major composer and creator or multidisciplinary projects, that extended the boundaries of musical exploration in radical ways. His work Automatic Writing (1979), for example, integrated words that were triggered by his mild Tourett's Syndrome. He justifies this exploration in a fascinating way: “I wondered, naturally, because the syndrome has to do with sound-making and because the manifestation of the syndrome seemed so much like a primitive form of composing-an urgency connected to the sound-making and the unavoidable feeling that I was trying to 'get something right'-whether the syndrome was connected in some way to my obvious tendencies as a composer.” (click here for the complete article)

The forms explored by Ashley -which often include only a restricted number of elements that are inserted into structures where repetition is very important- certainly provide some inspiration for James. On a different level, however, his usage of found objects is probably more closely related to world of contemporary visual arts or to the theatrical work of directors such as Tadeusz Kantor (as I have pointed out in a previous post.) From a collection of unusual relics found in abandoned Polish factories, he has devised a space that offers a glimpse into the life inside those factories. It is not a collection of stories or a historical explanation of what happened there, but rather an artistic interpretation, carefully crafted by the combination of concrete objects and rhythmic sequences of voices and movements, that are both compelling and mysterious.

A second rehearsal with Roos van Geffen.

Today I had the opportunity to see another rehearsal with Roos. Unlike last time, today she was working with all five performers at once (on the previous occasion she was working with only one of them). They were all simultaneously repeating a carefully choreographed set of motions, and yet they looked so different to one another. They would reproduce the same movement -for example, nodding at a particular speed and with a certain rhythm- with astonishing precision and attention to detail. And yet their movements would come across as being radically diverse from those of the other performers. A subtle expression which would strike me as contempt in one of the faces, would appear to be joyful detachment or plain resignation when carried out by the other performers.

The interesting thing is that these emotions are completely in the mind of the spectator (in this case, in my mind). The performers are actually forbidden to try to represent or act out any emotion. Rather, they give themselves completely to the task of following a very precise set of actions, rigorously woven together. When they accomplish this scheme with full concentration, then the audience members can engage with them in a playful and active usage of their imagination, bringing along their own set of associations. Roos describes her objective as “triggering deeper layers of memory” in the minds of the spectators. During the rehearsal I couldn't help thinking about the beautiful book by Yoshi Oida, An actor adrift. There, he often describes how some of the most striking performances he ever witnessed were always accomplished by actors whose mind was “empty”. Empty, at least, of emotions. He explains how, when a complete devotion to a physical task is accomplished by a performer on stage, a state of perfect blankness is achieved, a void which can be compared to a hollow container, which the spectators -in a way which is often unconscious- fill in with their own minds, with imagery from their personal memories.