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.

A rehearsal with Roos van Geffen

A week ago I had the opportunity to talk to Roos van Geffen about her work in progress, Adem (breath). She has been rehearsing for a couple of weeks at the Huis a/d Werf and she just made a short video with one of the actresses she is working with, in order to keep track of her research process. In it, the actress nods while looking into the camera. Subtle changes make the movement appear completely different. At first, it is a perfectly neutral nod, without any hint of anything else. Then she nods with her head up high, her eyes slightly down, but still looking straight into the camera. Later on, she lowers her head completely, still nodding, with her chin almost touching her chest. Finally, her nodding becomes violent, plunging her head into a furious dance. But the frenzy suddenly gives way and all movement stops. I feel tempted to describe the feelings that this movements might induce in the spectators: 'when her head is lifted she looks at us with contempt, when her head is lowered, she looks gloomy', that kind of things. But that is not completely accurate. Describing the movements in such a way is not being true to what actually goes on in the film. And as Roos tells me, the video itself is a poor substitute for the live version of those actions. That is why I ask her if I can see one of her rehearsals, a privilege she happily grants me. So the next day I join her and her team. It is fascinating to see Roos at work with the actors. She looks at them with such intensity, pursuing with them the discovery of actions that can have an peculiar resonance. She engages in this research process with patience and curiosity, looking for something very unique. But what is it that she is looking for? When I ask her, she says that in her performances she is always trying to create a moment of silence, to prepare the members of the audience to enjoy a moment of untroubled calmness. A prime example of this is We, one of her former theater works. There, two spectators were lead to a moment where they could look at each other for three minutes. In most of her previous experiential projects, the spectators had very individual experiences. This time, her work Adem, will maintain all this intimacy, while moving into a more conventional theater stage. This work will premiere at the Festival a/d Werf 2010.

P.S. After seeing the rehearsal, I have to agree that the video cannot capture the whole complexity of what is happening on stage... so I will not embed the video it here. Anyways, I hope these words have triggered the imagination of the readers of this blog, and their curiosity to come to the festival and check out the work of Roos. I leave you, however, with a short interview with her.