Festival d'Avignon - The Great Tamer at the Fabrica

When I write an article for a publication, I start by jotting my ideas down on paper. Then I read them, I think, I try to organize them. I structure, I restructure, I cut, I develop. Finally, I polish the style. For my blog, I stop at the first stage of notes organized more or less randomly, because this is not a review. As usual.

Thrilling moment: the show begins. Will it please me? Will the creators meet the spectators expectations? A man is lying on the stage as the spectators walk in. I thought it was a great, disarticulated puppet. But when he gets up, we see that he is a real man, just a bit gray in his face. He stares at the spectators as they take their place. He removes his standard gray suit, then his underwear. A naked man, what a beautiful object. How fragile. He turns over one of the rubber plates that cover the gray scene: it is white on the other side. He lays down on it. A naked man is even more fragile. A bearded man arrives, also dressed in a standard grey suit. He lays a cloth on the naked man. Until then, I have been seduced, but I do not like much the fabric nor the way that the man drapes it over the naked man, it’s too self conscious. The bearded man leaves the stage, another arrives also dressed in a standard suit. He lifts a rubber plate and drops it. The draft lifts the tissue and moves it off the body. The man is naked again. This action recurs at least a dozen times, the men’s actions closer and closer together until they are on stage simultaneously.

I do not understand the meaning of this scene. At least not immediately. If I reflect, I put together that the man is submitted without recourse to the other two men’s actions. Either he's cold when the sheet is off, or he’s hot when he's covered, but the two men do not seem to care about his welfare.

Soon there are six men on stage, two women. Yes, I take a count. For many male creators, a human is a man. Women work as an accessory that define man as clothing or decor. But when a woman emerges from a astronaut costume, against all odds, I review my hasty judgment. He now has six men and three women. It's better, but we could have six women and four men, for example, though they would not wear the standard suit in the same way. They are either in long black dresses, or in alluring lingerie. 

Music: the famous waltz, slowed down at least 10 fold, by Johannes Strauss. An astronaut appears on the scene. Hello, 2001 A Space Odyssey, by Kubrick!

The show explores humans as individuals, their consciousness. A theme that I like very much. 

I argued that humans have a consciousness of themselves, and offered as a metaphor a novel. While it is made of words on paper, the novel still exists if one burns the paper. He argued back, what about a severed hand still alive and kicking, something science might achieve soon? Is it human? Dimitris Papaioannou seems to want to answer these questions. A woman appears advancing on legs that are too big, like a spider’s. The illusion is created by two men bent over who walk backwards while she rests on their bodies. One leg is naked, the other is black and disappears against the black background. During the show, limbs appear here and there on the stage, detached and then regrouping to form a human being. Witchcraft. The magic of the theater, Deus ex machina, Robert Lepage would approve.

The relationship between the body and the individual human being is explored. When is the body a human being, when does it stop being a human? Do the limbs scattered on stage add up to a person? The 17th century Puritans in Rembrandt's painting, reproduced by the dancers, thought it was fine dissecting a body, whereas it had been forbidden by the Catholic church. 

Papaioannou began his career by making comic books, and he certainly has an exceptional control of gestural language. The staging of the bodies and their movements across the stage shows great skill, great talent. A man puts on shoes that seem to lie on the stage. When he picks them up, they turn out to have roots. He walks on his hands, his feet waving their roots in the air. A memorable image. Pina Bausch. Is it in the tradition of gestural theater? Dance-theater? It's more delectable not to put a label on it.

The same position of an actor / dancer / acrobat evokes something else depending on the sequence in which it appears in the room. For example, an actor in a swimmer position between the legs of another actor reminds me of a boat prow. Later, this same position evokes a man floating in a state of weightlessness. Similarly, arrows  are thrown on the naked man who is protected by some rubber plates, these same arrows become ears of corn that the actors glean tenderly in a beautiful scene.

Visuals reference Botticelli’s Venus, Michelangelo’s David, the Lesson of Dissection by Rembrandt. I sometimes have the painful impression that as European creators, we have so much less to say in comparison with Africans, Asians, South Americans, that we resort to digging up references in our cultural past.

The actors undress and get dressed a lot. A LOT. Fortunately their jackets are not double breasted, nor their trousers with buttonholes.

At points, it felt like the creator wondered, what else could we do now? Some of the tricks he came up with, ingenious, should have been gotten rid of, because they did not contribute to the integrity of the show. As Steven King advised, the creator must be able to kill his little darlings. Sometimes, if I do not understand an action or an effect, I give them the benefit of the doubt. At other times, no, it does not convince me at all.

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Even during performances I relish, I look forward to the end, from being a prisoner of the spectator-creator relationship: what if I do not like the show? Help! What if an actor forgets his role and begins to cry on stage? What if I love it, and all the other spectators boo and whistle and all the actors begin to cry? The end comes as a relief. I do better during very long shows which I have a preference for. Either very long or very short. That longing embarrasses me, as if I forced myself to go to the theater, as if I preferred to drink a glass of wine while varnishing my toenails, when in fact, I love going, and leaving with my mind, my soul changed by what I have experienced.

Written and contributed by   - -  Arabella Hutter von Arx

Festival d’Avignon: The Great Tamer à la Fabrica

 Quand j'écris un article pour une publication, je commence par jeter mes idées sur le papier. Ensuite je les lis, je réfléchis, j’essaie de les organiser. Je structure, je restructure, je coupe, je développe. Enfin, je polis le style. Mais pour mon blog, ici, je m’arrête au premier stade des notes prises plus ou moins au hasard, c’est pour ça qu’il ne s’agit pas d’une critique. Comme d’habitude.

Le moment trépidant où le spectacle commence. Va-t-il me plaire ? Un homme est couché sur la scène. J'ai cru que c'était une grande marionnette, un guignol. Mais quand il s’est relevé, on a vu que c'était un vrai homme, juste un peu gris de visage. Il regardait fixement les spectateurs alors que ceci prenait leur place. Il a enlevé son costume gris standard, puis ses sous-vêtements. Un homme nu, comme c’est beau. Comme c’est fragile. Il a retourné une des plaques de caoutchouc qui couvre la scène grise : elle était blanche de l'autre côté. Il s'est couché dessus. Un homme nu couché, c’est encore plus fragile. Un homme barbu est arrivé vêtu lui aussi teint complet standard. Il a étendu un tissu ou un la seule sur l'homme nu. Jusque-là, j'ai été séduite, mais je n'aime pas beaucoup le tissu ni la manière qu'a l’homme de l’étendre sur le l’homme nu. L’homme barbu quitte la scène, un autre arrive aussi vêtu d’un costume standard. Il soulève une plaque de caoutchouc et la laisse tomber. Le souffle soulève le tissu et le déplace plus loin. L’homme est de nouveau nu. Ce manège recommence au moins une dizaine de fois, les actions des hommes étant de plus en plus rapprochées jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient en même temps sur la scène.

Je ne comprends pas la signification de cette scène. Du moins, pas instinctivement. Si je réfléchis, je m’imagine qu’il y a une manipulation de l’état de l’homme. Soit il a froid quand il est venu comme ma soirée est chaud quand il est recouvert, mais les deux hommes ne semble pas se soucier de sa perception.

Bientôt, il y a six hommes sur scène, deux femmes. Oui, je compte. Pour beaucoup de créateurs masculin, l'être humain est un homme. Les femmes sont encore un accessoire qui définissent l’homme, comme les habits ou le décor. Mais quand un peu plus tard dans le spectacle, une femme émerge d’un costume de cosmonaute contre toute attente, je révise mon jugement hâtif. Il y a maintenant six hommes et trois femmes. C’est mieux, mais on pourrait avoir six femme et quatre hommes, par exemple, sauf qu'elles ne porteraient pas le complet standard de la même manière. En l'occurrence, elles sont soit en longue robe noire, soit en dessous affriolants.

Musique : la célèbre valse, mais très ralentie, de Strauss. Un cosmonaute apparaît sur la scène. Coucou, 2001 l’Odyssée de l'espace, de Kubrick !

C’est une exploration de l’être humain en tant qu’individu, en temps qu’être conscient. Un thème qui me tient à coeur. En fait Numen et moi en discussions tout récemment, autre entrée blog bientôt.

Je soutenais que les humains ont une conscience d’eux-même, comme un roman est fait de mots sur du papier, mais si on brûle le papier, le roman existe encore. Numen n'était pas d'accord. Il disait, et une main sectionnée qui bougerait encore ? C’est un humain ? Dimitris Papaioannou semble vouloir répondre à ces questionnements. Une femme apparaît avançant sur des jambes trop grandes, comme une araignée. L’illusion est crée par 2 hommes pliés qui marchent à reculons alors qu’elle repose sur leurs corps. Une jambe est nue, l’autre est noire et disparait contre le fond noir. Au cours du spectacle, des membres apparaissent ainsi, détachés, puis se regroupant pour former un être humain. Enchantement. La magie du théâtre, deux ex machina, Robert Lepage approuverait.

Papaioannou a commencé sa carrière en faisant de la bande dessinée, il lui en reste certainement un langage gestuel exceptionnel. La mise en scène des corps, des mouvements est d’une grande habileté, grand talent. Un homme met des chaussures qui semblent posées sur la scène. Quand il se met en marche, elles se révèlent avoir des racines. Il marche sur les mains, ses pieds agitant leurs racines dans les airs. Une belle image. Pina Bausch. Est-ce du théâtre gestuel ? De la dance-théâtre ? C’est plus délicieux sans y mettre une étiquette.

La même position d’un acteur/danseur/acrobate évoque autre chose suivant la séquence où elle apparaît dans la pièce. Par exemples, un acteur en position de nageur entre les jambes d’un autre acteur me fait penser à une proue de bateau. Plus tard, cette même position évoque un homme flottant en état d’apesanteur. De même, les flèches qui sont lancés sur l'homme nu protégé par des plaques de caoutchouc dans une belle scène deviennent soudain des épis que les acteurs glanent tendrement.

Références visuelles à la Vénus de Botticelli, au David de Michelangelo, à la Leçon de dissection de Rembrandt. J’ai parfois la pénible impression que nous autres créateurs européens, nous avons si peu à dire par comparaison avec les Africains, les Asiatiques, les Sud Américains, que nous devons sans cesse aller déterrer des références dans notre passé culturel.

Les acteurs se déshabillent et se rhabillent beaucoup. Beaucoup. Heureusement que leurs complets ne sont pas croisées, ni leurs pantalons à boutonnière.

Parfois, j’avais l’impression que le créateur s’était demandé, qu’est-ce qu’on pourrait bien faire d’autre maintenant ? Certains trucs qu’il a trouvés, ingénieux, auraient mérité d’être éliminés parce qu’ils ne contribuaient pas à l’intégrité du spectacle. Comme Steven King l’a recommandé, le créateur doit pouvoir tuer ses petits chéris. Parfois, si je ne comprends pas une action ou un effet, je leur donne le bénéfice du doute. D’autres fois, non, ça ne me convainc pas du tout.

Même pendant des spectacles qui me plaisent, comme le Great Tamer (le grand dompteur), j’attends toujours avec impatience que ce soit fini, parce que je suis prisonnière du rapport spectateur-créateurs : et si ça ne me plait pas? Au secours ! Et si un acteur oublie où il en est et se met à pleurer sur scène ? Et si j’adore, et tous les autres spectateurs huent et sifflent et tous les acteurs se mettent à pleurer? La fin arrive comme un soulagement. Moins pendant les très longs spectacles que j’apprécie beaucoup. Ça m’embarrasse un peu, comme si on me forçait à aller au spectacle, comme si je préférais boire un verre de vin en me vernissant les ongles des pieds.

Ecrit par  -  Arabella Hutter von Arx

Sigmund Freud gets all artistic

Leonardo de Vinci, a Memory from his Childhood by Sigmund Freud is singularly endearing. Freud spends many pages explaining what at the time might have seemed an extravagant theory: childhood events have a significant influence on what we become as adult without us being aware of it. His theories and that of other psychoanalysts have entered our general consciousness, and his protestations come across as naive: 'why, of course, Sigmund, it's called the subconscious!' At the same time the psychoanalysis of a long dead artist is a riveting exercise. And paradoxical as Leonardo, living in the Renaissance, would certainly have found these theories absurd. Unless...

Freud sketches out the little we know about the painter. Leonardo de Vinci was an illegitimate child. His father was a young notary, his mother a young laundress. The father married a woman of his own class the same year Leonardo was born, but the marriage remained childless. The barren couple adopted Leonardo who came to live with them when he was five. Quite a life changing event: different parents, different environment.

Here is Leonardo's memory. It was part of a text about vultures he was writing, possibly the only reference to his childhood:
"Questo scriver si distintamente del nibbio par che sia mi destino, perché ne la mia prima ricordazione della mia infanzia è mi parea che, essendo io in culla, che un nibbio venissi a me e mi aprissi la bocca colla sua coda, e molte volte mi percotessi con tal coda dentro alle labbra."
"It seems that I was always destined to be so deeply concerned with vultures, for I recall as one of my very earliest memories that while I was in my cradle a vulture came down to me, and opened my mouth with its tail, and struck me many times with its tail against my lips."

Freud explains the memory as having been transformed by Leonardo's subconscious. He interprets the tail as being an image of the penis, which takes the place of the nipple in the baby's mouth. The vulture is a representation of his birth mother. Leonardo was probably aware that in Ancient Egypt, vultures were believed to be all female and impregnated only by the wind. Like his mother. The altered memory expresses the absence of father in Leonardo's early childhood and the intense erotic relationship with his mother which, according to Freud, would have caused his homosexuality. However it appears that "nibbio" means in fact kite, not vulture. The text to which Freud had access had mistranslated the word. It's also interesting, in regard to this memory and its analysis, to consider Leonardo's obsession with flying, was he hoping to be reunited in flight with his birth/bird mother?

Speaking of homosexuality, a new theory has been offered by a Signor Vicenti that the Mona Lisa was painted after both the lady and Leonardo's favorite assistant and probable lover, Sallai. Here's quite a convincing comparison:

Freud goes on to analyze Leonardo's painting, St-Anne with Madonna and Child, see picture on the right. He points out how the two women's bodies seem to be fused and their limbs confused. They also appear to have the same age, with their identical Mona Lisa smile, when in fact they're mother and daughter. According to his convincing analysis, the pair is a depiction of the two mothers who hovered over Leonardo as a child. People have pointed out to the shape of an upside down vulture in the grey dress of the Madonna, with its head under her arm. It has been argued that the cartoon, above left, is a much later version. Freud argues that the cartoon came first and that Leonardo removed the small St-John on the right in order to separate the fused sitting figures. It seems to me that the cartoon has a more balanced classical composition, Saint Ann hovering in the background like a spirit, while the group on the painting looks on the verge of falling. This gives it a more dynamic effect, leading us to ask ourselves whether Baby Jesus will fall off the hands of his mothers. He seems to prefer the little lamb to his mother, and resents her interference. Wish Freud would have analyzed that too.

Freud said later in his life that this book was probably his favorite amongst the texts he wrote.


Contributed by - - Arabella Hutter

Revenge for all or for none!

Revenge! OK, I'll come out with it, I have exacted revenge in the past. Details by request only. According to thinker Jon Elster," Some norms are sources of massive unhappiness, by imposing behaviour that can be pointless, difficult, expensive, or dangerous. This is true of trivial norms such as rules of etiquette as well as of very consequential norms such as codes of honour and of revenge". I am not sure at all why he would call revenge a norm, when it is more of an individual's reaction to another individual. 

Anyway I have always been a bit embarrassed about my tendency to revenge, as if it showed a lack of maturity: everyone knows it's pointless to seek revenge, it does not make one whole. When I have taken revenged, I feel a certain shame, and some amount of satisfaction. But when I have not, my regrets last forever! I'm thinking of owning it. For the Greeks it was the most natural thing in the world. There might be more closure, when revenge is exacted. The Russians think it polite to walk on someone's foot if they walk on yours: no hard feelings! 

If somebody steals something from us, we find it normal that they return it or make some kind of amend. We have the law on your side. But what about the offenses that are not reprehensible by criminal law:  if someone ignores our pleas for help when we're in a crisis? Criticizes our children? Cuts the line to get on the Brooklyn Bridge? Why should there not be some kind of pay back? Because, when you think of it, someone might have a better reason to steal (need) or smoke weed (fun) than to refuse a helping hand in a time of hardship (can't be bothered). If we're not going to exact revenge for those personal wrongs, let's not exact a cruel revenge for the law-breaking ones either - I'll support that motion.

Dream big? Dream strong! A conversation with Numen

Day before Christmas. Lazy morning down at the Cheasepeake Bay, cup of tea in hand, newspapers spread out over the sofa. No internet.

- Who’s coming for Christmas dinner tomorrow? Numen, 20, wants to know.

-  I wanted to joke I had invited your heroes to Christmas dinner, I reply, but I don’t know who they are these days. Have you got any?

-  Gamers. A few others like Junot Diaz. But mostly gamers.

-  What do you admire about them?

-  I mostly admire the gamers who make it a philosophy of enjoying gaming even when they lose. If you can’t handle losing, you should not game. They support playing your best, and having fun. Also, teaming with other gamers is rewarding, adds to the fun, and is gentler on the ego when the other team wins.

-  Interesting you should say that, because I have been thinking how kids are told to “dream big” by educators, and also by successful inventors, and athletes, and pop idols. But very few will be stars, and that leads to a lot of frustration, look around you, The Big American Dream turns into The Big American Frustration, relieved by shopping or drug abuse or violence. We also tell the kids: you’re the best! You’re Number One! At the same time, it doesn’t make sense to tell kids: hey, dream really small because that might be all you get. What do you make of that?

- People blame themselves for what they see as their failure, whereas life is about playing, not winning. They think they made bad decisions that led to bad results and failure. A lot of luck is involved in life, just like in gaming. You don’t know what’s due to decisions, what’s due to chance. It’s not chess, where chance does not play a part because you make all the moves.

- True. Some chess players jump out the window, literally, when they lose. 

- Sometimes people make good decisions that don’t pan out, sometimes they make bad decisions that lead to success. Playing the lottery is always a bad decision, except for that one person who wins. It’s not “I need to become Rihanna or Tom Cruise or Einstein”, but “how can I push my acting skills, what science attracts me most, which friends do I really enjoy playing music with?”.- 

-  So what message should we share with kids, instead of “dream big”?

-  Dream strong. Do what you love, love what you do. Team up.

Contributed by  - -  Arabella Hutter in conversation with son Numen Rubino

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A mirror in the corner of the Universe

I heard on the radio a young American philosopher, David Chalmers, say that we have a reason to exist. According to him, we are the consciousness of the Universe. Its painters, poets, musicians, philosophers. Without us, the universe would not know it exists. "Universum, cogito, ergo es!"

This premise brushes us against the hair. After the long centuries in which Christianity had put man, God's favorite child, at the center of the Universe, we have learned humility the hard way, step by step. The earth is not the center of the universe and the sun does not revolve around us. Animals also have feelings and thoughts. We are not the ultimate creation of God, but a nasty hiccup in biological evolution. The world is without purpose and not meant by God. That is our credo, as intellectuals particularly in Europe. It was coined in the twentieth century by Heidegger, Sartre, Lévy-Strauss, and others.

Arrive thinkers and scientists such as Chalmers that upset this dogma. From anthropocentrism, they move onto anthropism, or revert to it. Their theory can be interpreted in two ways. On the one hand, it can simply be taken as a vision of reality, a point of view. Undeniably, our consciousness gifts us with an awareness of the universe. I appreciate the poetic side of this version of humanity, we tiny women, we tiny men on our tiny planet in one of countless galaxies of the cosmos, where we act as a kind of mirror. Instead of being placed right at the center of the universe, we are placed in an obscure corner to better reflect the wonder of the universe. If there were no consciousness, the existence of the universe and its essence would go without being perceived, completely dumb, completely numb. It's pretty easy to accept. The second understanding of the proposition, that is our purpose to mirror, is more difficult to swallow, as it presupposes a superior entity has meant for us to exist. Obviously, the candidate for this post is god, which would please Creationists ... or otherwise, it presupposes an awareness that manages the universe and then we're not the only ones to be aware of the universe.

Some of these philosophers also say, shaking statistical data in their fists, that we are the only beings in our universe, but there might be other universes that also produce conscious beings. I find this a questionable interpretation of statistics. We just don't know enough. We are looking for conscious beings similar to us in terms of physics and biology, but they might belong to a different essential realm that we are not aware of. On the other hand, it's convivial to imagine these other consciousnesses in parallel universes, in a way a similar experience to rubbing shoulders with our fellow human beings that we know have a consciousness without ever being able to completely share it. As for me, I firmly hope that we are not alone in this here universe and that we will get to know our counterparts soon, I'm tired of being the only species (where are our Neanderthal sisters and brothers?), though I am concerned how likable we are, what first impression we might make to our extraterrestrial fellows. They might be appalled, and turn their spaceship around in a fast U-turn when they get to know us.

This anthropism theory also assumes that animals have no consciousness. I consult my cat. He is sitting at the window, looking at the universe. His perception without words, without images, without theories, is purely ontological, and probably more suited than ours to the reality of the universe.


Posted by - - Arabella Hutter