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The
of
Essence
Theatre
EugenioBarba
"What is left of a Jew who is not religious, Zionist or even familiarwith the
language of the Torah, the Holy Book?" Sigmund Freud asked himself this question at the beginning of the 20th century, and his reply was: "Probablythe essential," taking care not to define it.
What is left of the theatre when it is not religious or nationalisticand does not
believe in books, theories, or ideologies that try to explain and spreadcertainties
in the world?
Freud's question contains the seeds of the unrest that, in the same period,
pushed visionary theatre reformersin Europe to implode the century-old theatre
culture, generating new and unexpected identities and attitudes.These visionaries
chose to confront themselves with the four fundamentalproblems for an actor:
not only how to be effective as a performer, but also why, where,andfor whom.
These reformers are our ancestors, the founders of the 20th century's traditions.
The word "tradition"is ambiguous. It brings to mind something that we are
given, that we have idly received from the past. But traditionis also the exercising
of refusal. It is our retrospective look at the human beings, the craft, the very
History that has preceded us and from which we choose to distance ourselves
through the continuity of our work.
1. Pantomimetrainingat
Odin Teatret,1964, the
yearthegroupwasfounded
in Oslo. Fromleft: Torgeir
Wethal,Else MarieLauvik, Anne TrineGrimnes,
and TorSannum.(Photo
courtesyof NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
In those days there were no groups or alternativetheatre culturesto inspireus or
with whom we could join forces. We were excluded. Nobody came begging us
to enrich the performing art. Theatre was our personal malaria, our endemic
necessity.The world had no need for us as actors. We needed the theatre. It was
right that we should pay out of our own pockets.
All forms of theatre, even under the most favorableconditions, are subject to
constraints:time, money, space, and quantity or quality of collaborators.These
constraints decide the rules of the game and mark the boundaries of what is
possible. Although they may be foreseen especially when you are nobody and
have nothing-you must bow to them in order to survive. Or else you can force
yourselfto outflankthem, thus at times achieving unexpected and original results.
You can also destroy them with a hammer, shatteringthem in a thousandpieces
with which to build your "habitat,"the ideal and material world for work and
the results generated by it. This is how I remember our beginnings in a capital
city that seemed like a desert.
That is the origin of Odin Teatret in Norway-a tiny nucleus of amateurs
who dreamed of becoming professional,five young people who took themselves
terribly seriously: the faultlessexecution of an exercise performed on a spotlessly
clean floor; vocal training as uninterrupted shouts, whispers, resonances, and
vibrations, and absolute silence during the intervals.A small group, who clung
to their own "superstition"and who, through lack of experience, imagined that
theatre was a craftwith a human face. In solitude, outside the geography of the
recognized and recognizabletheatres,we carried on imperturbablyin this desert
in which the only presence was the invisible shadow of the dead and a beloved
master glimpsed at a distance: Grotowski.
It is by bestriding circumstancesthat we determine the true course of events
14
Eugenio Barba
and construct the hammer that demolishes the constraints.In I966 Odin Teatret
abandoned the protective shell of certaintieswith which it justified its precarious
existence and moved to a small town of I8,000 inhabitantsin west Jutland, the
least developed and most religious region of Denmark. There, theatrewas neither
entertainmentnor tradition.There were no interestedspectatorsand, in any case,
the Odin did not have a language in common with them, text being the essential
means of communication on the stage at that time. The Danes had difficulty in
understandingthe Odin's Norwegian actors, whose number was soon increased
by others from different countries and continents. On top of the existing limitations, we had chosen to add yet another: exile from language, a stammer.
Every form of exile is like a poison: if it doesn't kill you it can give you strength.
It is impossible to understandthe history of Odin Teatret, our way of thinking
and behaving during these 37 years, without keeping in mind these two forms
of exclusion: rejection by the theatre world and the mutilation of language. We
have shatteredthis situation of inferiority,these constraints,and from their debris
we have molded an attitude of pride and refusal:our source of strength.
The history of theatre was my consolation, my flying carpet, my Eldorado. I
discovered the essential:Stanislavsky'ssolitude and Artaud's isolation, the exile
and loss of language of Michael Chekhov, Max Reinhardt, Irwin Piscator, and
Helene Weigel; the importance of amateur theatres for Yevgeny Vakhtangov,
Bertolt Brecht, and Federico GarciaLorca;the obstinate researchinto the actor's
scenic "life" by Stanislavskyand Vsevolod Meyerhold; the Art Theatre's First
2. Odin members
training
Studio and Leopold Sulerzhitski'slaboratoryof communal life. The chroniclesof
in Holstebro,1970. From
the pastwere my Talmud,my Bible, and my Quran. I only had to readattentively
left:IbenNagel Rasmussen and decipher anecdotes, episodes, and detailsneglected by historians.An Atlantis
and TorgeirWethal.(Photo of information
emerged and clarified my hesitations and doubts, revealing the
courtesyof NordiskTeateroriginal examples and the astute solutions of those who
laboratorium)
preceded me, their way of brandishingthe hammer.We
were not alone.
~.~-~i. :,
Theatre became the place in which the living could
meet the nonliving, the dead, the ancestors-reformers
who had crossed the desert. Their lives, their performances, and their books have illuminated the Odin's
~ path, guiding us toward a technical knowledge that is
?~+^
our way of breathing. They have inspired the tacit
,.g;
~ knowledge we have absorbed during the course of so
Pm
many years,and they have protected the essentialin our
A~::
productions: the thousand details in the actors' scores,
the flora of impulses and micro-actions, the structure
of tensions, sats,' and intentions that resonate deeply in
the spectators'senses. The living are incapable of noticing all the details,but the nonliving accept the details
and relish the personal temperature that has forged
them in alternatelayers of light and darkness.
The Nonliving Spectators
IN a ?ier
' :
;: .
.....-
courtesyof NordiskTeateroaboratorium)
so often experienced, who will be scorned by the spirit of the time, alone against
the indifference of society and the coldness of the craft.
We can reach those who are not yet born by contagion. We come into contact with them through the living, through our spectators.It is the performance
and its scorpion's sting that decide. You have to give your utmost to the spectators who come with an extraordinarygift: they offer up two or three hours
of their life, placing themselves in our hands with candor and trust. We must
repay their generosity with excellence, but also with an obligation to work: their
senses, their skepticism, their ingenuousness, and their cruelty must be put to
the test, asked to face a storm of contrastingreactions,allusions,ambiguities,and
clusters of meanings that grapple with one another. They have to resolve the
enigma of a performance-a sphinx ready to devour them. The performanceis
a burning caress that touches their sensibilities and intimate wounds, pushing
them toward the hushed landscape that lives in exile within us. We must open
I6
EugenioBarba
the spectators' eyes with the same gentleness that we close those of a loved one
who hasjust died.
The spectatorsmust be cradledby a thousand subterfuges:entertainment,sensual pleasure,artisticquality,emotional immediacy, and aesthetic refinement. But
the essentiallies in the transfigurationof the ephemeralqualityof the performance
into a splinter of life that sinks roots into their flesh and accompanies them
through the years. The performance is the sting of a scorpion, which makes them
dance. This dancing does not come to an end on leaving the theatre. The toxic
secretion penetrates their psychic, mental, and intellectual metabolism and becomes memory. This memory constitutes the unimaginableand unprogrammable
message that is handed down to those who are not yet born.
It is an undertaking that can only succeed through an autonomy that is based
on two conditions: the capacity to keep alive an artistic group with a "superstition" that permeates the behavior of every one of its members like a second
nature; and the creation of performances that, like scorpions, bewitch a few
spectatorswilling to be stung.
Odin Teatret has stayed alive for almost four decades because we live like
Bedouins. Right from the beginning we have been accustomed to possessing
only a handful of dates and a tent-rather like the first nomadic caliphsof Arabia
who conquered Damascus, Baghdad, and Basra,but returned to the desert without remaining in the marble palaces or letting themselves be tamed by the cities
with their temples and bazaars.Holstebro is our tent. It holds the essential:the
anonymity of the daily work whose task is to extract the difficult from the difficult.
But the group is not all; it is only the systole of the heart that keeps alive the
precariousand ever-threatenedprocess of autonomy. The diastoleis the spectators
who need us. After 37 years they barely fill the hundred or so places at each of
our performances.This is our limitation and our strength. They are there waiting
for us wherever we go, whether it is New York or a village in the Andes, a
European capital or a small town in Patagonia.
We recently performed in Rome for five weeks: Ioo spectatorseach evening3,500 in 35 days. Out of these the scorpion's sting may only make one dance,
the one who will encounter our true spectator...who is not yet born.
The Way of Refusal
When I visit theatre buildings, I feel as though I am boarding motionless ships
of stone that are attempting to portraymovement. Inside them I have occasionally
experienced the boundless adventureof travelto the night's end or to the center
of my own being. I compare the ships of stone to the floating islands, to what
Stanislavskycalled "ensemble," and I call "theatregroup": a handful of men and
women who, thanks to the discipline of an artistic craft, reach out beyond their
individualism and carve themselves a place in history. Through a process of creative osmosis, their wounds and needs become politicalaction, i.e., a standpoint
with regardto the norms and circumstancesof their polis, their community.
The essence of theatre does not reside in its aesthetic quality or in its capacity
to represent or criticize life. It consists rather in radiatingthrough the rigor of
scenic technique an individual and collectiveformof being.Theatre can be a social
cell that embodies an ethos, a set of values that guide the refusalsof each of its
components.
Form is fundamentalto theatre.Through the discipline and precision thatform
requires,the actor absorbsand displaysa nucleus of information that escapeswords
and contains the spirit of the ethos of refusal.From the very first exercise on the
first day of apprenticeship,a form of being may be shaped from real actions that
Theatre As Transcendence
All the founders of 20th-century traditionshave followed the way of refusal.
This handful of ancestorswho have marked our personal tradition and become
its cardinalpoint, were in opposition to their time and forged the idea of a theatre
that is not limited to performances,does not simply addressitself to an audience,
is not solely preoccupied with filling seats. For them another imperative arose:
to transcend the performance as a physical and ephemeral manifestation, and
attain a metaphysicaldimension-political, social, didactic, therapeutic, ethical,
or spiritual.
Theatre is intolerableif it limits itself to spectacle alone. The rigor of the craft
or the elation of invention is not enough, any more than the awarenessof the
pleasureor knowledge that we can induce in the spectator.Our work should be
nourished by subversionthat projects us beyond our professionalidentity, which
acts as a wall, both protecting and at the same time imprisoning us. The performance sows a seed that grows in the memory of every spectator, and every
spectatorgrows with this seed.
When I started in theatre, I had fours actors with me. We were five in all.
Three of us are still together today. Thirty-seven yearsis a long time and we have
gone through all the crises, the exhaustion, the routine, and the doubts. So why
do we continue? Are we perhaps interested in the present? I believe we are
sustainedby two tensions: the memory of the past and a longing for the future.
On the one hand we have the desire to remain loyal to the dreamsof our youth,
and on the other we share a responsibilitytoward the nameless generations yet
unborn. These are pompous words. And yet they are the voice of that part of us
4. NobushigeKawamura
and his son Kotaroin a
at the
Noh demonstration
TacitKnowledgesymposium
on transmission
in Holstebro, 1999. (Photocourtesy
of NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
I8
EugenioBarba
;
I^^^^H^
5. IbenNagel Rasmussen
and hermother,EsterNathe 'genergel, demonstrate
ationaltransmission
of
at the Tacit
experience"
Knowledgesymposiumin
Holstebro, 1999. (Photo
courtesyof NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
20
EugenioBarba
the dominant moral norms, actors were people who exhibited themselves and
even went as far as selling themselves for money: corruption and prostitution
among actresseswere proof of this. Hence the lack of respect shown them and
the discrimination they were subject to from society.
With its exceptions and variations, this was the world of theatre up until the
end of the Igth century when Friedrich Nietzsche and Ivan Karamazovdiscovered the eclipse of God. While science appearedto have an explanation for all
questions, new doubts were being raised concerning the human condition, the
organization of society, and the role of the artistin it. A few actors threw themselves into the vortex that was sweeping through all the arts and that markedthe
beginnings of modernity: the avantgarde,the "isms," the break with the canons
and criteria of a shared and accepted tradition. All the recognized and practiced
models exploded.
It was the big bang, the liberation of innumerable diverging energies and intentions, the creation of new paradigms,the blossoming of a theatreecology never
seen before, or simply the intoxicating realizationthat this disparagedprofession
could be an art with a dignity, a purpose, and a specific identity. Theatre became
"theatrical,"emancipated itself from literature,and aimed to be a practice with
a raison d'etre beyond the fiction of the stage.
How could a performer's acting be transformed into real action, authentic
experience, social awareness,the shaping of a "new human being," and a magic
operation recreating the reality that is life's double? Never before during the
course of history had actors posed themselves such questions.
Small Traditions
It was no coincidence that an outsider was the first to raisethis sort of question.
Stanislavskywas an amateur, the son of a rich textile factory owner. He had at
his disposala theatre built especially for him, where for months he could prepare
a production at his ease. Although others preceded him, it was with him that an
original theatrical culture flourished, breaking with past models. The big bang
of 20th-century theatre was marked by his indefatigableactivity as an innovative
director, an ever-questioning actor, the inventor of a consistent pedagogical approach, a stimulatorof rebels, founder of laboratories,protector of other reformers: Gordon Craig, for whom he made it possible to produce Hamlet; and
Meyerhold, whom he welcomed into his Studio. He was not the only one. Other
actors and directors also adjustedtheir art to their personal visions and to an era
that was shakenby industrialization,technological changes, the first "world"war,
and by the devastationof the fascistideology and of the communist social utopia.
There no longer exists one single theatre tradition, a central model to act as a
means of orientation. The big bang generated smallnomadictraditions
whose genesis was the work of a totem, a reforming artistwho combined a visionarypower
with technical solutions that put it into practice. All the reformersrevitalizedand
reshaped their art, aware that theatre was an "empty ritual" in search of a lost
meaning. They had to awaken this ceremony in lethargy,this formalized entertainment, make it assumerisks and responsibilities,jeopardize its ambiguous condition in a torn society.
Compared to other forms of spectacle-sport or cinema-theatre proves to
be anachronistic,answering the needs of another age, out of tune with the very
flow of civilization and its other means of communication. The objective of this
"modern" civilization is to reach the greatest number of people in the shortest
time and as economically as possible. Theatre is quite the opposite: it involves
vast expense, a waste of resources,both human and material, not to mention the
time needed to preparea performance that will only be seen by a limited number
of spectators.
1961). He spoke
explicitly of "life." Before him, Stanislavskyhad spoken of organicity and Meyerhold of biomechanics.
The reformers' efforts toward renewal revealed their contradictory desire to
destroy the very abilities that defined them as actors in the eyes of others. They
wanted to annihilate in themselves what they embodied: an age-old tradition, a
proven know-how. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse, they bestrode an extreme idea: absolute creativity.Each new production should start from scratch,
grow from nothing, should be a cosmogony similarto that of the Christian God
who created ex nihilo, as opposed to the demiurges of other religions, which
remodel something alreadyexistent.
They were asking burning questions: How do you give life to an actor who
will not be conditioned by a predetermined technique, but each time opens up
a new path disclosing an inner depth? How do you trigger an improvisationthat
until now was intended to intertwine and vary known elements, and turn them
into an original creation?How do you reach an authenticity,a dynamis,a personal
2I
22
Eugenio Barba
force that materializes the poetic essence of Ibsen, Strindberg, and Chekhov's
plays, and engages the spectator in the experience of this essence?What process
does the actor have to follow in order to evoke this feeling of life, this "effect of
organicity"in the spectator?
It is from the perspective of these questions that we examine the introduction
of actor trainingbased on exercises, a practice that was absent in the apprenticeship of the European actor.
The Paradox of Exercises
A true anthropologicalmutation shook the European actors' universe during
the first decades of the 20th century. Theatre was no longer a continent, but had
become an archipelagocomposed of islands,each of which was busy building or
knocking down a tradition,following new customs and beliefs, inventing its own
dialect. There was no longer one history and one culture, and the ghosts that
revealed the multiple facets of each of these cultureswere numerous.
The voraciousinterestwith respectto neglected traditions(commedia dell'arte,
circus, cabaret,and other popular forms of entertainment)on the one hand, and
on the other the discovery of distant cultures (classicalAsian performances,African dances, ceremonies, and rituals),blended with effervescentrecklessexperimentation and a fervor to break the chains, habits, and rigid structures.Hence
the importance of founding theatreschools in which individualtalentcould flourish and the consciousness of an artistic dignity ripen. Some actors-turneddirectorsopened studios, privileged places that offered continuous learning-the
utopia of the "eternalbeginning." This is the origin of Stanislavsky'sand Meyerhold's laboratorieswhere the practice of exerciseswas invented and applied.
Through the exercises,Stanislavsky,Meyerhold, and their collaboratorsdevised
a "pedagogicalfiction." Their exercisesgave the impressionthat they were pointing out something of importance; they had nothing in common with the courses
at theatre schools in which students learned singing, diction, fencing, ballet, and
play interpretation.All these were abilitiesthat could be exploited in their future
careers, but were not taught by the exercises. Today we acknowledge that the
7. GennadiBogdanovdemonstratesMeyerhold's
biomechanicexercisesduring
the tenthIstasessionin
Copenhagen,1996. (Photo
courtesyof NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
8. The livingtraditionof
Decrouxcorporal
mimein
theperformance
of A Little
Thing by TomLeabheart,
1996. (Photocourtesyof
NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
24
Eugenio Barba
. .. ..:........"9.
~:~a
..:~
courtesyof NordiskTeaterlaboratorium)
term "exercise"is to be found in all paths of psychic, mental, or spiritualtranscendence which make use of somatic processes:a particularway of breathing,
fixing one's gaze, moving, dancing, or halting the flow of thought.
We can nowadays appreciatethe unknown prospectsrevealedby some of the
reformers and the surprising niches which they carved at the very center of
theatre'secosystem. At the same time we can reflect on the paradoxthat appears
to accompany them: the more they distance themselves from production, the
more they are engrossed in the practice of the exercises.
This was the case with Copeau who chose teaching rather than performing
when he fled Paris.His studentsplayed in Bourgogne, but their daily activity was
above all based on a process of uninterrupted apprenticeship, on that hidden
aspect of the craftwhich distils the actor's ethos.
Grotowski left the theatre in 1970. But from the mid-'8os up until his death
in I999 at his Italianretreatin Pontedera, he applied all the knowledge acquired
through the exercises to his "art as a vehicle." He defined as a "performer"the
person who worked with physical actions that do not aim at representation.This
meticulous and patience-cravingprocess,which also involves the vibratoryquality
of the voice, is not intended for the spectator, but for the "doer," a term used
by Grotowski instead of the word "actor." Occasionally,as an exception, a few
chosen witnesses are allowed to be present.
It was at the school of Copeau's Vieux Colombier thatEtienne Decroux began
his training. His life is strewn with the continual invention of exercisesaimed at
revitalizing the performer's scenic efficacy. His modest house in the suburbsof
Paris was a stronghold of freedom independent of trends, fashions, and markets-where he preparedmany generations of determined and loyal rebels,with
a conspicuous sense of humor.
The most surprising experience-because it was the first of its kind-was
Stanislavsky'sFirstStudio, directedby that extraordinarypersonality,Sulerzhitski,
with the young Vakhtangov,Michael Chekhov, and Richard Boleslavsky. Its
members were immersed in the creation and execution of hundredsof exercises,
with no worries of an imminent performance. They left Moscow to establisha
26
EugenioBarba
tret),SanjuktaPanigrahi
(Odissidance),andAugusto Omolu(Orixa dance)
28
EugenioBarba
presence that is above me, perhapsbeside me. It is a vulnerable and pensive face
that I do not recognize, a depositary of a plus-value that surpassesall the values,
meanings, alibis, and longings I project into my profession. "Superstition"is the
opposite of fetishism, of a belief in technical systems, politicaljustifications, and
aesthetic categories.
I invent a tradition in order to discover my heritage and confront myself with
it, strugglingto capturesomething that is a part of my integrity, to which I belong
and which belongs to me. I feel the need to give it life, to decide how and where
to invest it, how and to whom to pass it on. My ancestors-their destinies, their
coherence, and their illusions, the words and the forms they convey to me from
the past-whisper a secret to me alone. I decipher this secret through action.
More or less consciously, my actions set ablaze their forms and words. I watch
their ashesbeing swept awayby the winds of oblivion, of derision, and the cruelty
of the times. In the smoke of the fire that I have lit I glimpse the mysterious
meaning that drives me through theatre like a blind horse galloping on the edge
of a frozen precipice.
Tradition does not exist. I am the tradition, a tradition-in-life that materializes
and transcendsmy experience and that of the ancestors, whom I have turned to
ashes. It condenses the encounters, tensions, enlightenments, and shadowy sides,
the wounds and the invisible trackson which I never cease to get lost and be led.
It is a tradition that leaves traces like an astute and elated trickster, full of traps
that mingle precious instruments for orientation together with a mass of inapplicable knowledge. When I am gone, this tradition-in-life will no longer exist.
Perhapsone day, compelled by mute necessity,somebody will shake this heritage
in hibernation and make it their own, burning it with the heat of their actions.
Thus, in an act that presupposesmuch love, the involuntaryheir will uproot the
secret of my inheritance and distil it into his or her own personal meaning.
To make something one's own means to knowhow to nurtureoneself, to choose
the sources of one's own knowledge. The Brasilianpoet Osvaldo de Andrade
claimed that every artist should be anthropophagous (I928). Anthropophagy is
not cannibalismaccording to him. A cannibal devours another human being out
of voracity, whereas anthropophagy implies feeding on those selected parts of
another which are imbued with qualities,properties,and virtues that nurtureour
own strength. De Andrade concluded that we have to be anthropophagous-not
cannibalistic-when approachinganother culture. The same applies to the past
and to our ancestors.
It appearsto be an accidental and harmless encounter that does not demand
total commitment. In reality it is a dangerous operation full of unknown pitfalls
since at that precise moment we make contact with the very source of our existence, of our being. The relationshipsbetween human beings and those who
surroundthem-the living, those who preceded them, and those who will follow
after them-are strewn with occult signs and messagesthat are decipherableonly
if we transpiercethe transient.
To question ourselves about tradition means to reflect on the instinct of revolt
that guided our first steps toward a horizon which today shuts us in, or which
perhaps still incites us to keep on going as it grows ever more distant. It also
means asking ourselves how to escape the voracity of the present, while holding
on to this splinter of the past for which we alone representthe future.
A Fortress with Walls of Wind
Our ancestors gave the example. They approached theatre as one enters the
desert:to encounter themselves, but also to found a place differentfrom all others,
a fortress with walls of wind where new rules of life could be established.An
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pi
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30
Eugenio Barba
Note
i. "Sats"refersto a Norwegian term which in theatreanthropologyrefersto the impulse,the
stateof readinessbefore executing an action (see Barba1995:55-6I).
References
de Andrade,Osvaldo
1928
I.
"Antopofagia:Manifesto"(SanPaulo). RevistadeAntropofagia
Artaud,Antonin
vol. 2. Paris:Gallimard.
I96I [1924] "L'evolutiondu decor." In A. Artaud,Oeuvrescompletes,
Barba,Eugenio
ThePaperCanoe:A Guideto TheatreAnthropology.
Translatedby RichardFowler.
1995
New York:Routledge.
Craig,EdwardGordon
On theArt of the Theatre.New York:TheatreArtsBooks.
1957
Decroux, Etienne
1985 [I963] "Wordson Mime" (PomonaCollege). Mime Journal.
Meyerhold,Vsevolod
"L'acteurdu futureet la biomecanique."In Ecritssurle theatre,vol. 2.
1993