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rehearsalmatters.org - Young artists https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/method/young-artists da Sahar Rahimi, Manuel Gerst, Cecilie Ullerup Schmidt https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/interview/sahar-rahimi-manuel-gerst-cecilie-ullerup-schmidt Iscenesættere, konceptudviklere, performere, co-foundere af Monster Truck <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://rehearsalmatters.org/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/Monster%20Truck_interview_2.jpg?itok=nwnyzCGt" width="434" height="326" alt="" /> Gießen 25. juni 2008 Interview: Isabelle ReynaudTranslation: Isabelle ReynaudEdited by: Isabelle Reynaud, Birgitte K. Kjær, Rasmus Skov Jeppesen <p><em>Hvorfor har i valgt teatret?</em></p> <p>Cecilie<br />Vi er et instruktionskollektiv...</p> <p>Manuel<br />Egentlig er vi fem personer i Monster Truck. Vi læser sammen (på Institut für angewandte Theaterwissenschaft in Giessen, red.), og Cecilie Schmidt er i øjeblikket udvekslingsstuderende fra København. Vores sidste stykke lavede vi sammen med hende. Som gruppe fandt vi hinanden for tre år siden. Vi kan ikke rigtig sige, at vi har planlagt det hele eller overvejet, hvad der er den ideelle måde at lave teater på. Tværtimod er det bare opstået. Der var en, der ville lave et projekt og spurgte de andre, om de ville være med. De havde ikke lige noget at lave. Det har udviklet sig af sig selv.</p> <p>Vi er så efterfølgende trådt et skridt tilbage og har iagttaget vores arbejdsmetode. Derved fandt vi ud af, at vi arbejdede kollektivt. Det opdagede vi først ved nærmere eftersyn. Vi sagde ikke fra begyndelsen, at vi ikke ville have en instruktør. Det har vist sig at være den rigtige metode, og derfor er vi fortsat med at arbejde på den måde. Med tiden udvikler man så en bevidsthed om at ville arbejde professionelt. Det er ikke så lang tid siden, og det er måske heller ikke så positivt.</p> <p>Vi er blevet bevidste om spørgsmål som: Hvordan forholder vi os til den etablerede teaterverden? Hvad sker der, når vi får penge for vores arbejde? Hvad med det frie marked? Og hvad med navnet Monster Truck som brand? Kan jeg nu ikke mere lave noget alene? Skal jeg altid arbejde i denne konstellation, bare fordi det har vist sig som den rigtige vej? Hvis en fra gruppen stopper, er det så fordi, vedkommende er sur?</p> <p>Vi har altid taget fat i et nyt stykke med en vis naivitet. Kun ud fra ’fornøjelsesfaktoren’, ud fra idealet: 'At være sammen med sine venner og lave teater samtidig'. Det sætter vi nu spørgsmålstegn ved, og det gør os 'kontraproduktive', og det hæmmer os.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Det er blevet helt klart, at vi har samstemmende forestillinger om, hvilke æstetikker vi synes om og hvilke ikke, samt hvordan vi har lyst til at arbejde, og hvad der interesserer os. Men først og fremmest har vores fælles udvikling været baseret på et stort venskab. Et utal af nætter sad vi sammen i køkkenet. Vi bor nu også i Giessen, der er en lille provinsby. Der er ingenting, man kan lave, og derfor er det oplagt at sidde sammen og tale om projekter, der endnu ikke findes, og som ingen har lyst til at lave. I begyndelsen, de første to-tre år, fik vi de bedste ideer om natten, når vi sad og drak. Klokken fire om natten sker det. Efter disse to-tre år føler vi, at det hele lige så stille professionaliseres, og at man mest mødes i prøvesalen. Alt er pludselig mere rammesat.  På den ene side er det jo ikke ligefrem en dårlig udvikling, men på den anden side, ja, så er euforien måske ikke så stor længere. Tværtimod er det nu arbejdsdisciplinen, der er den bærende kraft.</p> <p><em>Kan I beskrive jeres arbejdsproces, det vil sige et prøveforløb fra idéen til det endelige produkt? </em></p> <p>Cecilie<br /> Hidtil har det altid været sådan, at vi først har bestemt os for et tema, der interesserer os, altid et 'stort tema'. Vores sidste projekt havde temaet 'døden'.  Det er selvfølgelig helt vildt bredt. Vi har behov for et udgangspunkt lige nu og her, noget der interesserer os helt tilfældigt. Vi prøver at arbejde os fra yderkanten ind til kernen. Vi bliver mere og mere konkrete. Man kan sige, at vi arbejder fra en kvantitativ tanke. Vi kommer slæbende med helt vildt mange ideer, tekster, film, malerier og tegninger.  Det største arbejde er så at forkaste det meste igen. Til sidst bliver en lillebitte tanke, en rekvisit, en scene tilbage. Disse bliver så efterfølgende bygget sammen. For at komme med et litterært eksempel, Schillers <em>Røverne</em>. Der var en, der havde taget <em>Røverne</em> med til en prøve, og alle gjorde grin med, hvad det var for noget vrøvl, men derud af opstod nogle slapstickscener.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Der bliver en rest tilbage. Det karakteristiske ved os er, at vi ikke udvikler et koncept for bagefter at realisere det, snarere omvendt. Vi producerer rigtig meget ud af en intuitiv arbejdsform. Vi putter helt vildt mange ideer, ønsker og materialer i en stor gryde for bagefter at træde et skridt tilbage og undersøge, hvilken dramaturgi kunne være grundlag for hvilken slags forløb? Hvad er essensen af det hele? Her er det vigtigt at stole på, at det man synes er interessant, er relevant nok.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Der kan opstå en indsigt, der intet har med udgangspunktet at gøre. Der er måske noget andet, der er mere interessant, og tilskueren ser måske noget helt tredje, når det kommer til stykket. Det ideelle er, når der opstår så mange fortolkningsmuligheder som muligt.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Lige præcis. For eksempel i forbindelse med vores sidste stykke, <em>Left tonight, </em>kom Manuel slæbende med en novelle af Lovecraft. En amerikansk gyserforfatter. Lovecraft har skabt sine egne myter om guderne. Den vigtigste gud har et kæmpestort blækspruttehoved; derfor arbejdede vi med væsner, der sover og vågner op i en by under havet. Det var oplagt. Vi har ikke brugt den konkrete historie, men brugte blækspruttematerialet. Vi købte rigtige blækspruttehoveder hos fiskehandleren og bandt hovederne sammen i en perlerække. Deraf opstod nye associationer som f.eks. gasmasker. Vi havde allerede barokkjoler som kostumer. Nu kombinerede vi begge elementerne. Først havde de intet med hinanden at gøre, men sammenbragt blev de meget spændende. Figuren fik dermed en barokkjole, en maske af ægte blæksprutte og en sølvhjelm på. Cecilie sagde engang, at vi ikke er skuespillere, når vi er på scenen. Vi er kostumebærere. Vi repræsenterer noget i kraft af vores påklædning, og det er tilskueren, der skaber det, det bliver til.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Ja, det er rigtigt. Men det handler også om, hvad det er for en holdning, vi står med på scenen. Det handler ikke om, hvilken figur jeg personificerer eller fremstiller, eller om en bestemt psykologisk historie. Tværtimod - jeg bærer dette specifikke kostume, som måske bliver forvandlet til noget helt andet. Da jeg arbejdede med jer, handlede det om at løse opgaver. Det indebærer, at det at bære et kostume er lige så vigtigt som at slå et skab i stykker med en økse.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Princippet om at uddele opgaver er et godt redskab for os, fordi det afleder os performere fra at spille. Vi er nemlig ikke uddannede skuespillere, og vi påstår ikke, at vi kan spille skuespil. Vi undgår at spille.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Vi havde også en meget interessant undersøgelse af det talte sprog. Vi bruger kun få ord på scenen. Vi laver associativt billedteater. Vi har ingen tekst, der fører os lineært gennem forestillingen. Derfor lavede vi en undersøgelse af, hvordan vi overhovedet kunne tale på en scene, når vi ikke er uddannede skuespillere, og af, hvordan vi omgår det talte sprog. I <em>Comeback</em>, vores sidste fælles forestilling, har vi et skab med skabeloner. Disse skabeloner indeholder huller, hvor lyset trænger igennem. Så kan sproget lyse ud af skabet, og f.eks. sige: ”Vær ikke ked af det“. Vi lader tingene tale. Vi har også en diktafon i en dåse, hvor der i forvejen er indspillet en sang på. Vi har prøvet meget forskelligt. Tendensen hos os er at bruge mindre og mindre talt sprog. Men det er ikke en fornægtelse af sproget. Vores styrke ligger snarere i billederne. Sproget gør tit tingene så entydige. Naturligvis kan sproget også være flertydigt. Vi arbejder mest med navngivning af billeder.</p> <p>Vi har på nuværende tidspunkt arbejdet sammen i tre år. Og måske er vi ved et punkt, hvor man kunne sige, at vi har en minikrise. Det ideelle prøveforløb er meget svært at beskrive. Når man er inde i processen, er det det problematiske og det svære, der er i fokus. Men set i bakspejlet har man brug for disse problemer og vanskeligheder for at komme derhen, hvor man gerne vil for at opnå et resultat, man kan identificere sig med.</p> <p>Manuel<br /> I en gruppe er der selvfølgelig problemet med de mange forskellige meninger. Jeg kan møde de andre fuldstændig begejstret med en ny idé og så få en mellemfornøjet reaktion. Så kan jeg godt reagere fornærmet og kaste bolden tilbage: ”Så kan I kraftedeme bare gøre hvad I har lyst til”.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Eller omvendt. Du kommer med en idé, som jeg synes er noget lort. Men så kæmper jeg med mig selv og kommer til den næste prøve med en ide, der er en reaktion på dit forslag.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Ja, du viser mig, at du har analyseret det og er kommet med noget, der måske er en bedre idé – påvirket af min idé.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Æstetiske konflikter er simpelthen utroligt vigtige.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Der var en måned, hvor vi gik hinanden vildt meget på nerverne - en måned, hvor der ikke kunne ske noget som helst – med et ordentligt frustrationspotentiale. Vi endte med at sige: ”Nu smider vi det hele væk og starter forfra”. Nogle gange er det nødvendigt for, at der kan opstå noget nyt. Men måske er det bare noget, vi bilder os ind.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Nej det tror jeg ikke. Frustrationen, depressionen er vigtig, for at der kan opstå noget interessant</p> <p><em>Kan i huske et helt konkret prøveforløb, hvor det gik helt vildt godt, hvor det var ideelt?</em></p> <p>Manuel<br />Vi ville gerne lave noget helt latterligt morsomt. Så vi tog ketchup med. Og så har vi – enormt pinligt – griset rundt til helt vildt dårlig musik. Og der kom aldrig noget ud af det.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Det blev aldrig vist. Vi tog bare 10 flasker ketchup og smurte hinanden ind i det. Det er fuldstændig overdådigt, når man laver noget, der er totalt uøkonomisk. Bagefter gjorde vi rent i 3 timer, selvom aktionen kun tog 5 eller 10 minutter. Det er en slags frihed. Man kan lave lige præcist, hvad man vil. Det interesserer ikke verden, og verden interesserer heller ikke os i dette øjeblik. Vi befandt os i dette lillebitte mikrokosmos og lavede noget, der var fuldstændigt indholdsløst. Man behøver heller ikke at vise det – teater handler normalt altid om at præsentere noget.</p> <p>Vi havde f.eks. en prøve, hvor vi havde to fjernsyn. På det ene var der <em>Dommedag nu, </em>og på det andet var der <em>Borte med blæsten</em>. Og vi så begge film samtidigt. Det var en fantastisk aften, men ingen ved, hvad der hang ved, blev brugt eller ikke brugt i stykket.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Det handler om at undersøge alt, indledningsvist, at samle en masse materialer, at spilde tid og at give sig selv lov til at træde ud af et økonomikrav.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Der var også en aften, hvor vi drak sammen, og så besluttede vi, i vores småtossede fuldskab, at i vores næste stykke - vores næste ’bespielte’ installation - skal der være en ’gede–kamp’. Det syntes vi godtnok var en åndssvag ide. Vi byggede en hytte, hvor der var en levende ged i. Det er fantastiske øjeblikke, når man indser, at det er muligt at realisere en totalt skør idé, der fungerer. Man kan i virkeligheden realisere alt.  </p> <p>Manuel<br />Vi prøver at undgå alle former for hierarki. Vi opdeler ikke vores ideer i gode og dårlige. Vi undlader at udpege noget som en god ide, fordi vi har arbejdet på det i 10 timer og noget andet som en dårlig ide, fordi den er opstået i fuldskab.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Ja, en anden gang sad vi på  vores stamværtshus, hvor en masse af vores idéer er opstået. Der sad vi så og drømte om alt det, vi kunne gøre. Og vi var faktisk lige i gang med at planlægge noget nyt. Midt i diskussionen faldt jeg så i søvn. Og jeg drømte om en barok-kjole lavet af spegepølse. Da jeg vågnede, sagde jeg, at vi var nødt til at lave den. Det gjorde vi. Ideen var opstået ud fra min drøm. Det kan man ikke finde frem til konceptuelt. Det var virkelig et cool øjeblik, og vi byggede faktisk den der barok-kjole af spegepølseskiver. Vi brugte selvfølgelig utallige timers arbejde bare for to timers opførelse for så bagefter at smide det hele i skraldespanden.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Det er netop genialt, at man ikke kan konceptualisere de smukke øjeblikke. Man kan ikke sige, at følgende faktorer skal være til stede for, at det lykkes. Den ene gang er det bare en drøm, den næste gang har man brugt 10 timer i prøvesalen, og den tredje gang er det bare en fiks idé, der opstår hurtigt og får sit eget liv.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Jeg er enig i, at det er vigtigt med konflikter i et prøveforløb. Men vi kan jo ikke kunstigt fremprovokere skænderier, hvis vi lige har en fase, hvor vi har det rigtig godt med hinanden.</p> <p><em>Er der er sammenhæng mellem et godt prøveforløb og et godt resultat?</em></p> <p>Sahar<br />Helt sikkert! ... Nej egentlig ikke. I <em>Life tonight</em> havde vi egentlig ikke et godt prøveforløb. Og jeg vil påstå, at det er godt stykke. Så det er svært at sige. Jeg tror, at prøvefasen afspejler sig i forestillingen. Det vil sige, man kan se, om de deltagende kunstnere har haft det godt med hinanden, eller om de havde en masse konflikter. Man kan simpelthen fornemme prøvefasens energi. Man kan se på det færdige stykke, om de har været en totalt sammentømret gruppe - et svoret fællesskab - eller om der har været rivaliserende grupperinger.  Hvis det har været for harmonisk, så kan det faktisk blive kedeligt. Det kan selvfølgelig være meget godt med harmoni, det kan også skabe noget usædvanligt.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Det har ikke kun noget med prøveforløbet at gøre. Det handler også om materialet. Nogle temaer rammer dybere end andre og er derfor mere konfliktfyldte.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Noget af det jeg synes er så forbløffende ved teater er, at man kan arbejde på et stykke i et helt år og få et resultat, der varer én time. Denne ene time indeholder koncentratet af hele dette års arbejde. Publikum bliver vidne til et års konflikter, livsforløb, sved, ideer og sult. Øjeblikket efter applausen er altid mærkeligt når man tænker: Nu har jeg vist hele dette år på denne ene time. Nu er det væk. Hvor er det henne? Det er altid smertefuldt.</p> <p><em>Er der noget i et prøveforløb, I aldrig mere vil opleve?</em></p> <p>Manuel<br />Ja, der er jo det der specielle med Gießen, og at vi bor sammen og er meget gode venner. F.eks. har jeg i de sidste fem år ikke lært nogen andre at kende end teatervidenskabsstuderende! Jeg tror, der er mange, der har det sådan. Man er fuldkommen koncentreret på universitetsarbejdet, og denne sammentrængte koncentration er selvfølgelig helt fantastisk, men kan også blive farlig. Man kan ikke rigtig skelne mellem: ”Er du sur på mig, fordi jeg har sagt noget lort på seminaret eller ved prøverne, hvor jeg synes, at din idé var dårlig, eller derhjemme fordi du ikke har vasket op?”</p> <p>Derfor flippede jeg engang fuldstændig ud til en prøve. Jeg syntes ikke om ideen, men jeg kunne heller ikke længere abstrahere fra det, der havde hobet sig op. Men arbejdet betyder ikke så meget, at man skal blive uven med sin bedste ven. Så sætter jeg spørgsmålstegn ved mine værdier og bliver usikker. Og jeg spørger mig selv, om et venskab skal kunne holde til det, eller om det bare er åndssvagt at sætte venskabet på spil?</p> <p>Sahar<br />Det er også sket for en, der var med i vores gruppe. Det gik i stykker. Det med at arbejde sammen, leve sammen og studere sammen så trangt og tæt gjorde, at der næsten ikke fandtes noget ved siden af. Det fungerede simpelthen ikke længere.</p> <p><em>Hvad er de bedste betingelser for at opnå de bedste resultater?</em></p> <p>Sahar<br />Absolut ikke at være underlagt ydre begrænsninger som f.eks. de begrænsninger, der er på en landsdelsscene. Den idelle situation ville være, at man har et rum, hvor der ikke er andre end én selv. Man kan bruge det så meget, man vil, når man vil. Der er lidt lys, lidt lyd og der er ingen, der interesserer sig for én. Man kan lave alt det, man gerne vil i fred og ro i en slags afsondrethed - at være fjern fra verden - for at arbejde, men hovedsageligt for at eksperimentere - at være et sted, hvor der er plads til at lave noget, der er skidedårligt.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />At man altid har teknikken på plads fra den første dag, og at man kan gøre det hele beskidt!</p> <p>Sahar<br />Ja, det der med at kunne svine er meget vigtigt for vores arbejde. Vi arbejder meget med organiske materialer. I vores aktuelle stykke arbejder vi f.eks. med tre candyflossmaskiner. I en scene har vi en snestorm af candyfloss, der fordeles ved hjælp af ventilatorer. Hele rummet fyldes op med candyfloss. Og det begynder naturligvis at lugte, hvilket lige præcis er meget problematisk i et institutionsteater. Lamperne ville blive klistret til, og rummet ville blive fuldstændigt svinet til. Vi ville være nødt til at indskrænke det hele til noget, der var foreneligt med teatrets regulativer. Vi ville ikke kunne realisere den æstetik, vi ønsker.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Eller vores svineblærer… Vi har virkelig mange svineblærer med i stykket, og de stinker. Vi er ligeglade med det. Man vænner sig faktisk temmelig hurtigt til det. Men da vi kom ind i teatret, så gik teknikerne demonstrativt, nærmest provokerende, med masker i tre dage. Så var det ikke længere nødvendigt, men vi nåede lige at tænke: ”Vi er ikke interesserede i jeres kommentarer, selvom de kun er visuelle...”</p> <p>Sahar<br />Vi er virkelig ikke interesseret i at komme i konflikt med nogen. Vi vil ikke stemples som de der åndssvage, provokative kunstnere, der kun er interesseret i deres egen lille verden og bare blæser på regler og forskrifter. Jeg tror faktisk, at vi er alt for opmærksomme på ikke at løbe ind i konflikter, så vi censurerer os selv. Jeg kan for eksempel sige om en idé: ”Jo, det kan vi godt, men så går det i stykker, og det bliver helt vildt dyrt”. Ikke at være nødt til at have sådan nogle tanker og overvejelser i et prøveforløb ville være ideelt. Alt skulle være tilladt. Det er lige meget, om det kan lade sig gøre eller ej. Det kan være storhedsvanvid, nytteløst, beskidt eller sjofelt.</p> <p><em>Hvad ville I prøve af, hvis alt var tilladt? Hvis det umulige var muligt? Jeres største ønsker og utopier?</em></p> <p>Cecilie<br />Fåreflok!</p> <p>Sahar<br />Ja, en fåreflok! 100 får gennem et rum. Nej, 300 får, der kommer på scenen fra en dør, stormer over scenen og går ud gennem en anden dør. Bagefter fortsætter det bare, som om intet var hændt. Det er min drøm.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Ja, der kommer altid en situation, hvor Sahar siger: ”Og nu kommer fåreflokken”.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Men de skal være helt vildt hurtige!</p> <p>Manuel<br />Eller ideen med at bedøve publikum ved hjælp af ventilatorer, der fordeler sovemiddel. Og når de er bedøvet, så bærer vi dem et andet sted hen, så de vågner i en anden del af teatret.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Det ville også være cool at lave et stykke med en af vores forældre. Men det kan man jo!</p> <p>Manuel:<br />Ja.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Der er også noget andet, man skal have gjort en gang. Og det er at storme scenen, mens der spilles et godt stykke, at ødelægge det.</p> <p><em>Nu er I jo et kollektiv. Har I måske en drøm om ikke længere at arbejde som kollektiv, eller måske gå i en helt anden retning?</em></p> <p>Manuel<br />Nej, jeg tror, at så skulle det være at skifte til et andet medie, f.eks. skrive en roman eller male. Måske er der en mulighed for at arbejde alene som instruktør, men jeg opfatter mig ikke som et instruktørgeni. Det er ikke fordi, jeg ikke tør. Der er så mange dårlige stykker, så jeg kan faktisk ikke være dårligere. Men det er bestemt ikke et behov.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Jeg har prøvet en solo. Men det var overhovedet ikke sjovt. Det endte med, at Manuel arbejdede sammen med mig. Det ville også være dejligt at åbne for nye konstellationer, gøre noget helt nyt. Men for mig er det faktisk lige meget, om jeg siger, at jeg arbejder som kontordame eller med teater de næste tredive år. Det er lige så begrænsende, fordi man ved, at der findes hundrede andre ting, man også kunne lave.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Det, der også er interessant, er, at størrelsen af vores kollektiv altid varierer- nogle gange er I fire faste medlemmer, nogle gange fem, og nogle gange har I gæster. Jeg er jeres gæst i øjeblikket, men jeg arbejder også alene som instruktør, eller jeg skriver.</p> <p><em>Jeres vigtigste erfaringer og erkendelse?</em></p> <p>Sahar<br />Teater er kun teater.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Det handler om at bevare lidenskaben.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Man skal hele tiden prøve at søge noget nyt. Det er supervigtigt, ikke fordi man hele tiden skal være i forandring, men fordi det skal blive ved at være interessant og udfordrende.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Man skal holde fast i, at man vil gøre sit bedste og give sig tid til det. For nylig fik vi et tilbud om at tage til Stockholm, ikke noget specielt stort tilbud, men et tilbud. Vi havde egentlig nok at lave, og det ville bestemt ikke have været et hjerteprojekt.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Ikke gå i panik, selvom det ikke fungerer, og man kun har tre dage tilbage til premieren. Bevar roen. Måske bliver det et dårligt stykke, men det er ikke verdens undergang.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />At blive ved og ved med undersøge og arbejde videre til det allersidste øjeblik.</p> <p>Manuel<br />Ja, det passer. Vores sidste forestilling var ikke ideel til premieren, men efter en del forestillinger blev den bedre og bedre – vi blev ved med at arbejde videre med den. På et tidspunkt bliver det kedeligt, specielt når man selv står på scenen. Det er altid det samme. Vi er som sagt ikke professionelle skuespillere, der kan spille det samme stykke halvtreds gange. Jeg beundrer professionelle skuespillere, der kan genskabe det samme igen og igen. Det har selvfølgelig noget med teknik at gøre. Den har vi ikke. Vi skal lede efter noget andet for at fastholde spændingen.</p> <p><em>Når publikum forlader jeres stykke, hvad skal de så have med - eller skal de overhovedet have noget med sig?</em></p> <p>Cecilie<br />Hver enkelt skal have forskellige billeder i hovedet og et ønske om at diskutere dem.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Jeg vil gerne – helt klassisk – berøre mennesker og samtidig irritere. Jeg ved godt, at det er et stort ideal. Tilskueren er nødt til at konfrontere sig selv med sig selv. Man ser sine egne billeder i forestillingens billeder. Ja, jeg synes, det er mest spændende, at man ikke kan undgå at beskæftige sig med sig selv.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Jeg synes også, at det er vigtigt, at man bliver forstyrret, så man får behov for at diskutere og bliver engageret.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Alle, der laver teater, har et ønske om, at publikum synes, det er helt fantastisk, eller at de hader det. Det middelmådige er der ingen, der søger.</p> <p>Cecilie<br />Nej, der skal skabes positioner. Jeg kan huske, at da jeg så <em>Life tonight</em>, hvor jeg ikke spillede med, der var en kvinde, som Sahar spillede, i noget sengetøj…</p> <p>Sahar<br />Ja, børnesengetøj…</p> <p>Cecilie<br />… og jeg tænkte hele tiden: Det er det eneste, der ikke passer til denne æstetik, der er jo noget værre lort. Det forstyrrede mig helt vildt. Og det har så også forfulgt mig efter forestillingen. Det er virkelig noget, der er forblevet i min bevidsthed. Det popper op igen og igen og er kilde til nye spørgsmål. Det er en smukt kreeret afbrydelse, der planter sig i publikum.</p> <p>Sahar<br />Teatret skal være en helt anden slags verden end den udenfor, en parallel verden. Den skal følge andre regler. Den skal have en anden logik. Der skabes nye rum, og når man betræder dem, så kan alt det, man er, endevendes, eller man kan sætte spørgsmålstegn ved det.</p> <!-- node-kunstner-teaser.tpl.php --> <h2>Monster Truck</h2> <p> <p>Monster Truck is a young performance company who works with their own radical way of conquering the stage. Their works are apocalyptic theatrical experiences where elements of show, slapstick, stunts and visual art are combined into a whole. Monster Truck is a collective; everybody participates in the development of concepts, staging and performing.</p> </p> <p> <ul> <li><a href="http://www.monstertrucker.de/" target="blank" class="homepage">www.monstertrucker.de</a></li> </ul> </p> Wed, 23 Mar 2011 22:52:55 +0000 Isabelle 52 at https://rehearsalmatters.org Kaspars Znotins https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/interview/kaspars-znotins Actor <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://rehearsalmatters.org/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/Kaspars_interview_2.jpg?itok=CybUIh4u" width="434" height="326" alt="" /> Aarhus September 15, 2008 Interview: Barbara Simonsen <p><em>How long have you been with this theatre?</em></p> <p>11 years ago, in 1997, Alvis Hermanis, our artistic director, invited me to join the theatre, a year after I finished my acting studies at the Academy of Culture in Riga. The New Riga Theatre is a state supported theatre, one of three in Riga, Latvia.</p> <p><em>Do you always work with the same director?</em></p> <p>No. There are guest directors and permanent directors working with us. A lot of different work.</p> <p>There is a typical work process for a new performance. It’s two months of rehearsal and you start by reading the play, sitting at a table. Then you start to move on stage or in the rehearsal hall. That is the “normal” process. But working with Alvis Hermanis is always different. And always varying also from performance to performance. He does his performances in alternative ways. It’s always something new for us. It’s always a new space. We don’t know what it will look like in the end.</p> <p><em>By different spaces, do you mean different spaces to perform in?</em></p> <p>Different spaces to perform in, different spaces to move in, and also different spaces for me to use my abilities as an actor. There is not one method, but maybe there are some basic ideas. We do different things, but maybe there are certain things that we don’t do.</p> <p>Basically, it’s a huge space for actors’ work. Alvis Hermanis gives us his ideas about the final result – what he wants to see on stage. Then it is up to us how to fill it with life and organic things, how to make it live.</p> <p>For example, the theme can be old age. For one performance he used old ballet dancers, a performance called <em>20th Century Ghost Train Vision Express</em>. We are two young actors, making little sketches in a train compartment. Like actors do sketches in acting school. Without words, situations – we are two strangers in one small space. In the background all the ballet dancers. Like a trail of information from the 20th century. And also two railway station workers who are living in their own small flats full of electrical stuff and….</p> <p>The opening for this performance was in 1999 - and it was not a very commercially successful performance - but in it there are a lot of beginnings of other performances, for example <em>Long Life</em>. There is also one of the basic methods we always use: we prepare a lot of small sketches from life or from our imagination as a result of our investigations, and then we show them to him, and he does the editing.</p> <p><em>Long Life, </em>for example, is a performance about old people in communal flats. At the beginning we had 10-11 hours of material. The whole group took part in the research, showing it in rehearsals, small sketches about old people’s lives. And then Alvis made the decision to have these five actors and this, this and this sketch - and we worked on these sketches every day for two hours. Alvis works as a guide, but not like a sculptor with sculptures. We are a team, because we are co-authors. There is no play, it is a performance without words. And it comes only from our sketches.</p> <p><em>So for you as an actor in a process like this, what is most important for you for it to be a good process?</em></p> <p>When I work this way, it is good training for me. All the time I struggle with my personal “laziness” or my personal introversion, because I have to do research, I have to meet strangers and talk to them about their lives, asking very intimate and personal questions, and it is not natural for me. But I have to, and when I do what I am not used to, I go to a strange, unknown place for me, and it is a very, very important thing. To do things that I don't know how to do. To go into unknown territories.</p> <p><em>So that's the difficult part, but also the best part of the process?</em></p> <p>Yes. It's always like this. Because it is easier sitting at a table reading a play, thinking about my character, making suggestions and working with my fantasy or my memory. It's okay, and very often they are interesting characters, but something brand new always happens, when I … overcome myself.</p> <p><em>And that's also the meeting with reality, that's something different from yourself...</em></p> <p>Yes. There is another project called <em>Latvian Stories</em> - it's more for local use and has a lot of text. The stories are about common people. A guy on the street, I go talk to him and make interviews, I go to his flat, talk to his friends, and I make a story about this guy. And I remember Alvis Hermanis saying, when we started doing performances like this, the hyper-realistic, that it's more powerful than all Shakespeare’s plays put together.</p> <p>There was a time around 2002-03, when reality shows on television started to be very popular. Their popularity was going up very quickly, and it created a question for us and the status of theatre. We felt threatened by the reality shows. They are our competitors. Theatre has always been interesting because it's where everything is live. Whereas television and cinema or books are not live. But reality shows are really really...</p> <p>So performances like <em>Latvian Stories</em> and <em>Long Life</em> are our answer to this new reality. You have to look around, open your eyes and take your characters and stories from life here and now. And that is the main interest of our artistic director. For seven years now, he hasn’t found anything interesting in traditional plays or dramaturgy. So we make performances without plays, without this dramaturgical base.</p> <p><em>Is there any other, completely different kind of process that you would like to explore? Something that you dream about doing? Because the two types of process that you worked with, the traditional one and this one, are very different. But is there a third point? Another possibility?</em></p> <p>I'm not finished with this investigation of ordinary people. There is still so much to do, and it is what I want to do in the nearest future. To create characters like a film actor does; when you are playing a taxi driver you have to spend time with taxi drivers. Do research. The same goes for theatre. But maybe this is the third, a synthesis of both… Yes, that is my dream.  I dream about taking characters from the street, from the countryside, anywhere, and putting these characters in the traditional plays. That would be very, very interesting...</p> <p>That would be an ideal way of working and rehearsing for performances. Reading the play, thinking about this character, and then finding something like it in real life. Take this person and research. That would be a very, very, very interesting... result. To create a character that way.</p> <p>When we were working on <em>Latvian Stories</em> we asked ourselves if maybe we could bring these real people on stage? But then they became our stories. Some of the actors created roles, characters, talking in the first person. Some did it in the third person. But the audience was more alive and more vital when the actor was in character, in the first person.</p> <p>My story was in the third person, but a story about a guy my age. I think that the facts and the truths from these people’s lives are very, very strong and full of information, when put together with the actors’ way of telling a story. In <em>Long life</em> there are a lot of props and stuff. Thousands of small pieces from these old people’s lives, and these pieces are real and part of the decoration, part of the stage, also part of the story, the power of the story. These props are actors, too. Because they are very, very real. Full of information.</p> <p>A lot of them are really from old people’s houses. We had an agreement with the municipality of Riga that when an old person without family had died, our stage designer could go into the flat and find props for the performance. And when I spoke to my “guy” from <em>Latvian Stories</em> he said, "But I’m not special, I'm a very ordinary guy. Why me?" But almost every time it is interesting, because it's real.</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <!-- node-kunstner-teaser.tpl.php --> <h2>Kaspars Znotins</h2> <p> <p>Kaspars Znotins (born 1975) is an actor at The New Riga Theatre in Latvia. The theatre's artistic director Alvis Hermanis stages performances where the creative process is centered around the actors' own research and improvisation based on real people and real life stories.</p> </p> <p> <ul> <li><a href="http://www.jrt.lv/english.php" target="blank" class="homepage">www.jrt.lv</a></li> </ul> </p> Wed, 23 Mar 2011 18:49:32 +0000 barbara 41 at https://rehearsalmatters.org Sue Balint https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/interview/sue-balint Dramaturg, producer <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://rehearsalmatters.org/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/Sue%20Balint_interview_2.jpg?itok=EMXsgCyE" width="434" height="326" alt="" /> Toronto January 25, 2009 Interview: Barbara Simonsen <p><em>You have worked both as a dramaturg and a playwright. Is it either-or in the productions that you work on?</em></p> <p>I think in my first experiences I would have called myself a playwright and I moved on from that. I think it's very natural when you first start exploring what you want your role to be in theatre and creation, you find a title that's accepted whether it be "director" or "actor" or "playwright" or whatever. Then you gain a bit of maturity and a bit of insight and see that the ownership that you would have had of things you wrote originally (and I made really verbose stage directions because I knew exactly how I wanted everything to go) is something that you want to release.</p> <p>I don't want to present a finished script, because I think that then carries on through the whole creation process. If you have a finished script that is inflexible and you have a director who has a blueprint before he or she walks in on the first day, that's the least interesting option to me. But I wouldn't have said that when I first started writing. Because I had my idea, and I wanted to just see it on stage.</p> <p>In each individual collaboration, things sometimes develop so that it's clear that I'm not really the playwright, I'm more of a dramaturg or the person who's putting the jigsaw puzzle pieces together from all these other interesting ideas and all the input that is coming in.</p> <p>I’m by no means a professional dramaturg in the sense that that’s my specialty and my only role. There isn’t one specific way that I work. "Dramaturg" has always confused me as a phrase because everyone seems to have a different definition of it. My experience as a dramaturg is much more hands-on and not the researcher/analytical side of things, but as a member of a creative team, when we've been doing projects from scratch and starting from day one all together.</p> <p>A few years ago I worked on what was called The Sarajevo Project by a company in Toronto, Theatrefront. It happened over a three year period, so it was a long development process, and the first stage of it was that five of us from Canada went over to Sarajevo and worked with a director and three actors there, and we started the process with nothing. A month at the national theatre there. They gave us a space, and we started to explore... So where do you start? We were all fairly young artists at that time and we had to come up with a model of how we were going to work.</p> <p>There were the performers, a director from Canada, a director from Bosnia and myself who at the outset was the playwright, and we all had to find our place and how to work. And we were exploring stories, we  were exploring the linguistics, the sound of the different languages, we were exploring this rich, rich material. During this month of work it became clear that there is no playwright in a process like that, but there is something akin to a dramaturg. Some call that person a "scribe" - another way of looking at the person who basically stands back and takes in the room and takes copious notes. For me it was a really interesting process, I had never experienced anything like it. At that point I was used to sitting alone at a desk. Now this infusion of ideas and the environment of being in a different country and taking everyone’s ideas and then after eight hours of rehearsal each day, going home at night and trying to somehow transcribe that or come up with maybe a more polished or condensed version for them to try out the next day. It was a constant conveyor belt -  and overwhelming.</p> <p>After this month of work I think there was like a year where we all had time to process, and then the Bosnian artists came over to Toronto and we had phase two of development. Same kind of process - we were back in the rehearsal hall trying to find a story or a through line. At each part in the process there was a public presentation at the end. Certainly well worth the price of admission, you weren’t going to get bored that you'd seen the same thing!</p> <p>I felt like I was a dramaturg when I was in the rehearsal hall and then a playwright in between each creation phase, where I had to piece things together. The whole  thing culminated in the performance<em>Return (The Sarajevo Project)</em> at Tarragon Theatre in Toronto in 2006. And it was lovely, an adventure. And I feel like there were ten plays that could have come out of it. But that was my process in that project; I was in the rehearsal hall every day and an equal voice in the ideas that were coming out of each phase.</p> <p>It's overwhelming and it's scary and you tear hair out at times, but especially doing that in another country is amazing. Because I'm a big fan of language. Language I don't fully understand is even better. I love the rhythm and the poetic sound of language. So exploring that whole aspect for me could have been a play on its own, removing it from text and literal meaning.</p> <p>Of the finished script maybe 30% was in Bosnian and the really exciting part for me was to work out: For someone who speaks both English and Bosnian how do I not repeat the same information twice - but if they only speak one of those languages how can they follow the entire play? There were scenes done completely in Bosnian and there were scenes completely in English, and scenes where we had both overlapping, and of course the Canadian characters not understanding what the Bosnians were saying… Comic stuff like that.</p> <p>It was a jigsaw puzzle and I loved it, being able to piece those two languages together. At the same time you're expressing some of the confusion of not understanding that  we as travelers had experienced, and in general it's a metaphor for all different types of displacement in that situation.</p> <p><em>So from your angle of playwright and dramaturg, what would you say is the essential element for a process to be successful?</em></p> <p>I'm still looking for the ideal... I'm fascinated by what the ideal collective looks like. Those elements that you put together. I would want from day one of the creation all disciplines involved. It's really important for me that all the elements of the technical set - sound, lighting, all those things - are present from day one. I want a director, and I want dancers, and I want the performers, and I want a playwright, and I want everyone in the room.</p> <p>And I don't know what the secret is to “release an ego” in the world, so that all those people can get together. I know it happens, I've seen productions where I get a feeling that all those people somehow got on the same page at some point pretty early on, and it worked, and they channeled it the right way. But how that matchmaking works, I don't know. I've certainly experienced elements or moments of it in the different creative processes that I've been involved in.</p> <p>The most ideal creative experience I've ever had was here in Toronto. It was called <em>The Large Glass</em>, done by DNA Theatre in 2005. Essentially we were given - I mean it's a dream come true to begin with - a month of free time and space on the 24th floor of the Toronto Star Building. Through some miracle of real estate… It was a bare office building with no dividers, so it's huge, and there were 360 degree  windows all around it, overlooking the harbour in one direction, overlooking the city in the other, so it's beautiful to begin with. The DNA Theatre is an interdisciplinary company by nature, and the concept from day one was labyrinths, which is something that I love. Sacred geometry and labyrinths,  and “The Large Glass” refers to Marcel Duchamp, and there was this whole image of what that might evoke. Co-conceivers David Duclos and Hillar Liitoja picked the people that would each create a space within this environment, and they did a wonderful job. Some had dance as their main interest, and my idea was more text based, and there were beautiful things going on in that space, and we had a month to play.</p> <p>The last two weeks, but only maybe for about three-four hours each night, guests would walk through one by one. They had dings and bells to tell them when to move on to next space. From sunset the show started in two-minute intervals until maybe 10 o'clock at night, so you got to see the whole outside environment of the city and the way the light was shining through.</p> <p>The elements that were perfect were that we had the time, we had the space, we had this group of people that was open to every idea. And yet there was safety because we were all given our own piece of the puzzle, and we were all given a space that we owned. Maybe that's what appeals to the ego enough to allow for a collaboration in the larger sense. I don't know. It worked well.</p> <p><em>And good matchmaking.</em></p> <p>Definitely. Obviously we were all visible and audible to each other while we were performing within our own spaces, and interactions would spontaneously occur. Because there was no script, there was no predictability of how any given night was going to go. The interactions would spontaneously occur; a sound would occur in another area of this huge building and the response would come from someone else, maybe an audience member. The audience was equally involved in the experience, it was like the unknown cast member that would walk in. Or a certain rhythm would start with the sound design that would completely influence the way the dancer worked for that evening. That interaction was actively encouraged, it was part of the process and it was ongoing. It wasn't like 8 pm on opening night: This is how the play is going to be for the rest of the run - and I loved that. The spontaneity.</p> <p><em>So again, from your point of view, what is the problem of the rehearsal process?</em></p> <p>Shall I return to ego? Does everyone say that? It’s a given, it’s human nature, and I think the traditional model of theatre is also built on an assumption that there is an answer that we have to arrive at and usually the director has it. And if the director doesn't have it, it's in the text. So between those two everything can be resolved and like I said before, that's the least interesting option to me. It's not that you're going to end up with a poor, poor, poor product, but it's not an exciting way for me to work. To always have a person or a timeframe at which you arrive at a definitive answer.</p> <p>And a lot of that comes from time restraints. Rehearsal processes are too short, I think. That's kind of universal... If we had more time, more freedom, more energy to experiment and less fear. I think there's a safety net that people fall back on too much, and we know what an audience responds to, and even if we don't like what the audience responds to it seems to be the fall back position. Finances play a large part of that as well. But in my ideal world, I would remove ego and I would remove rules.</p> <p><em>For you personally, how does it feel to hold on to the ego?</em></p> <p>I aspire to remove myself from ego. That’s completely ridiculous, right? … Everyone has too big an ego. Sorry that I'm speaking in these metaphysical terms! But it's extremely scary - when I go back to my initial work as a playwright, the ego is there and the ego is attached to the verbose stage directions and the very clear idea of what the visual images should be. Or the particular line that you loved when you wrote it and you just don't - no matter how much you know that it shouldn't be in the play anymore - and it refers to the character that got cut three months ago and you still want it there. Because you think: "That's proof that I'm a good writer", and you want everyone to see it. So it's impossible to catch yourself every time, and I can see it in myself. It's very scary to try to release that and it's really scary to get in a room with a bunch of  collaborators and hope that everyone else is trying to release it as well.</p> <p>I think you know sometimes when you've encountered a collaborator where it's not going to happen. So this whole model you have for the ideal situation goes. And I don't know what happens at that point. Do you pack it in for that production or find a better offer for them? It's hard. It's something that you’re still working on when you're 80 years old.</p> <p><em>Apart from these ideal scenarios, is there something that you would like to try out? Something completely impossible, something that you would change?</em></p> <p>I would like to do more work outdoors. I really love large scale environmental work. This maybe off on a completely different tangent, but the past couple of summers I've been working on projects with Murray Schafer, a Canadian composer. Beautiful man. He lives out on a large property a couple hours east of here and he writes “environmental operas”. He has surrendered most of his property to a group of 30-40 people coming in camping there each summer and building this environmental set for a production of his called <em>Patria</em> and it's fantastic! The freedom of the space and the mentality of doing all this work and living in a sort of commune. Sleeping and eating and living with all these people for a month at a time, which is what I did the first summer that I was there long term. It's fantastic. It's not even interdisciplinary, it's more than that, because it's not just artists, it’s landscape architects, it’s an astronomer and just people who want to be a part of that environment and are there to cook, maybe, but just want to be part of this creative place. So it's much more of a 24 hour a day feeling rather than checking in for rehearsal.  And I would like to do more work like that, which feels all-encompassing, and find those other people that want to do that as well.</p> <p>Here also the audience members walks through one by one and explore the space on their own, and his operas can be nine hours long. He'll write specifically: " This is meant to take place on a beach at sunrise", and people travel and camp overnight and wake up at 5 am, and they canoe out to the place where the opera is taking place. He has so many people interested in his work for a reason, because there are very few things like it, and it's not just a piece of theatre, dare I say, it's more of a spiritual experience and there's a commitment. I firmly believe in audience members having made a commitment and I love them having to make a physical journey of three or four hours and having to find a place to camp overnight before. As an audience member myself I want to meet a creative process halfway. It's not interesting to sit with a programme and a safety net in front of you. I appreciate creators that force those experiences on people as well.</p> <p> </p> <!-- node-kunstner-teaser.tpl.php --> <h2>Sue Balint</h2> <p> <p lang="en-US" xml:lang="en-US">Sue Balint is dramaturg and producer at Modern Times Stage Company in Toronto, Canada, a widely acclaimed company led by Iranian-Canadian director Soheil Parsa and actor Peter Farbridge. Sue Balint also works as a playwright and is a founding member of Theatrefront since 1998, an award-winning and experimenting company that develops and presents new plays.</p> </p> <p> <ul> <li><a href="http://www.theatrefront.com" target="blank" class="homepage">www.theatrefront.com</a></li> <li><a href="http://www.moderntimesstage.com" target="blank" class="homepage">www.moderntimesstage.com</a></li> </ul> </p> Wed, 23 Mar 2011 15:01:29 +0000 barbara 26 at https://rehearsalmatters.org Signa Sørensen https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/interview/signa-s%C3%B8rensen Konceptudvikler, iscenesætter, performer, medstifter af SIGNA <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://rehearsalmatters.org/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/Signa%20S%C3%B8rensen_interview_1.jpg?itok=aSDv3c8N" width="434" height="326" alt="" /> København 24. oktober 2009 Interview: Isabelle ReynaudEdited by: Rasmus Skov Jeppesen <p><em>Hvorfor valgte du at lave performance?</em></p> <p>Jeg valgte egentlig at lave installationskunst og ikke performance. Sådan så jeg ikke på det. Jeg lavede sådan en mere konventionel installation i januar 2001, og da jeg havde lavet den, var jeg ret tilfreds med det, jeg havde fået ud af det. Jeg havde stillet de her objekter op i et rum og arbejdet med det et stykke tid. Så forlod jeg det, men syntes ikke, der var nogen frugtbar dialog med beskueren. Jeg prøvede at arrangere seminarer og fester osv. derinde, men det virkede på en eller anden måde underligt påhæftet. Da jeg på det tidspunkt sideløbende med mine studier i kunsthistorie ved Københavns Universitet arbejdede i en natklub som såkaldt champagnepige, var jeg allerede ret erfaren med iscenesatte intime møder – one-on-one. Derfor var det meget nærliggende for mig at integrere mig selv i værket. Så allerede i det andet projekt jeg lavede, var jeg der selv, i en kælderlejlighed her i København, nonstop i en uge. Jeg så ikke på det som teater. Jeg så heller ikke på det som performance – jeg er som sagt uddannet i kunsthistorie. Jeg havde ikke nogen teatererfaring, heller ikke nogen større interesse for scenekunst. Min interesse for performance var nok nærmere det, jeg havde stiftet bekendtskab med i mine kunststudier – f.eks. art performances på gallerier. Min primære interesse var installationskunst.</p> <p><em>Du deltager selv som performer i dine forestillinger for at få mere kontakt til publikum? </em></p> <p>Ja. Det er også en måde at manipulere publikums blik på, når man selv er der. Så kan man påvirke den måde, de oplever rummet på, ved at man selv er til stede. Og den fiktion, man bygger ind i rummet, kan man også bibringe dem. Det er ikke så enkelt, men der er mange muligheder, når man selv er til stede. Jeg vil dog også skynde mig at sige, at jeg aldrig har været der som mig. Jeg har altid været til stede i kraft af en fiktiv karakter</p> <p><em>Kan du give en kort indføring i din arbejdsmåde – fra den første idé til det endelige produkt? Hvordan vælger du f.eks. temaet for din næste performanceforestilling?</em></p> <p>Nu er det måske ikke så enkelt at give en kort indføring i arbejdsmetoden, da den er meget forskelligt fra projekt til projekt<em>. </em>Dog vil jeg sige, i de fleste tilfælde starter vi med rummet. Altså, vi får en bygning, og ud fra den udvikler vi konceptet specielt til stedet. Det kan også være den helt anden vej rundt. Nu står vi midt i produktionen af <em>Salò</em>, som på mange måder adskiller sig fra andre projekter. For det første har den Passolinis film fra 1975 som forlæg, og for det andet havde vi ikke bygningen, da vi besluttede os for at lave det projekt. Den har vi så heldigvis fundet nu – efter lang tids søgen.</p> <p>Idéen kommer meget tit på én gang. Når jeg ser stedet, så bliver det meget hurtigt klart, hvad det er, der skal laves der. Og det bliver der så elaboreret på. Faktisk vil det sige, at det endelige værk er ret tæt på den oprindelige idé. Grundidéen bliver ikke lavet om, der bliver bare bygget rigtig rigtig meget på det. I forhold til installationsdelen, eller scenografien, som man kalder det, hvis man skal bruge en teaterterm, så arbejder vi meget med ting, vi finder. Alt hvad vi bruger er ready-mades, og det er selvfølgelig meget afhængig af, hvad vi finder. Det er rigtig mange ting - vi har et kæmpestort lager. Vi går meget højt op i, at alt helt ned i den mindste detalje – lightere, en kop, folks undertøj, deres strømper osv. er gennemtænkt og passer ind i det univers, vi prøver at skabe. Der er altså et stort arbejde med at få samlet de her ting.</p> <p>Videre om arbejdsmetoden... Måske skal jeg ridse det sådan lidt punktvis op.</p> <ul><li>Vi får et sted</li> <li>Vi udvikler et koncept</li> <li>Vi finder medvirkende</li> </ul><p>... og det kan være skuespillere, det kan være folk med alle mulige forskellige baggrunde. Også mange forskellige nationaliteter, som regel. Så laver vi workshops, hvor vi snakker enormt meget. Alle får en karakter, og den er de selv med til at bygge videre på i samspil med os. Derudover arbejder alle skuespillerne også praktisk på settet. Tapetserer, maler, alt muligt. Og faktisk ofte sådan noget som elektricitet. Men det kan også være PR eller hjemmeside eller lyd, alt efter hvilke kompetencer de har. Det er meget vigtigt, at skuespillerne også er involverede i alle mulige andre områder; både fordi gruppefølelsen er rigtig vigtig, og fordi det er vigtigt, at de får et forhold til rummet, til bygningen. Derfor er de nødt til at have hænderne i det praktiske arbejde. Og så fem minutter inden premieren bliver vi nødt til at holde op. Ellers kunne vi bare blive ved og ved og ved. Ja, og så sker der jo rigtig meget, mens vi spiller. Det udvikler sig meget fra dag til dag. Det er altid et kontinuerligt forløb.</p> <p><em>Hvad er så det vigtigste for, at en proces lykkes? </em></p> <p>Det vigtigste for, at en proces lykkes... Jeg synes, det lykkes hver gang. Men jeg synes også, at det er ret mirakuløst, at det er lykkedes hver gang. Man er nok nødt til at være ret åben i forhold til, hvordan tingene udvikler sig. Man er nødt til at stole rigtig meget på, at det udvikler sig i den rigtige retning, og når tingene ikke bliver, som man umiddelbart havde håbet på, så ikke at se det som et set-back, men se det som en naturlig udvikling.</p> <p><em>Så det vil sige åbenhed og...?</em></p> <p>Det er jo ikke så enkelt at svare på. Det er meget komplekst, fordi der er rigtigt mange mennesker involveret, og rigtigt mange forskellige faktorer. Publikums tilstedeværelse spiller også en større rolle hos os, fordi vi hele tiden er i dialog med dem. Dvs. det er også afhængig af hver eneste publikum, når vi spiller. Der er selvfølgelig øjeblikke, der lykkes bedre end andre, men der er aldrig noget tidspunkt, hvor man kan hvile på laurbærrene og sige: nu er værket færdigt. Det findes ikke hos os. Hvert eneste sekund bliver det faktisk til igen. Jeg tror, at noget af det allervigtigste er at lade det udvikle sig derhen, hvor det vil, uden at man er bange for det, uden at man holder igen eller bliver usikker. Man skal ikke tvivle for meget på det. Jeg er klar over, at det er meget abstrakte formuleringer, men jeg kan ikke sådan sige den magiske formel.</p> <p><em>Kan du fortælle om den bedste prøveprocess og skabelsesproces du har oplevet, helt konkret? Et eksempel hvor det gik rigtig godt? Og hvorfor?</em></p> <p>Jeg synes altid, det er meget dejlige perioder. I den sidste forestilling manglede der noget af det praktiske arbejde. Tit har det føltes som en byrde og man har følt, at man skulle piske skuespillerne meget for at lave det her arbejde, som de måske i virkeligheden ikke har meget erfaring i – f.eks. at tapetsere. Men mange af skuespillerne arbejder med os igen og igen, og de samarbejder. Det er meget vigtigt, at man er sammen om at bygge, et helt konkret, praktisk eller manuelt arbejde. I den forestilling, vi lavede inden <em>Hades Fraktur</em> i Køln, synes jeg, at det var en god periode og en god størrelse gruppe. Der var 25 skuespillere, hvor vi tidligere har været helt op til 62 medvirkende – det er for meget. Men de her 25, det var et behageligt antal og det var heller ikke for koldt. Vi har bl.a. arbejdet om vinteren i store fabrikshaller og bygget 25 små huse op med alt, hvad der skal være i sådan nogle. Det er virkelig meget, virkelig koldt og virkelig beskidt – der var det ubehageligt. Jeg læste et citat om, at succes et langt stykke af vejen er afhængig af, hvor meget smerte man er i stand til at tage. Og hver proces er jo også smertefuld, fordi der bare er enormt meget arbejde.</p> <p><em>Hvilke problemer synes du er uløselige? Hvilke problemer vil du aldrig mere opleve i forbindelse med udviklings/skabelsesfasen?</em></p> <p>De problemer, der er uløselige, vil jeg nok komme til at opleve igen og igen. Ellers ville jeg ikke kunne arbejde. Jeg tror, at noget af det jeg nogle gange synes, er meget hårdt, når jeg skal lave det her arbejde, er at prøve at formidle de her tanker jeg har. Eller måske bare det at formidle konkrete ting – f.eks. ”det er sådan her, vi gør” eller ”det er sådan her, det skal være”. Og det, der overrasker mig gang på gang, er hvor stor en del, der ikke bliver forstået, selv om det bliver sagt mange gange. Der er selvfølgelig også en ekstra udfordring, at vi arbejder med folk, som taler forskellige sprog.</p> <p>Men nu kan man sige, at jeg jo efterhånden har lavet 25-27 af de her projekter, så meget af det er man så vant til – det er en del af det. Og som sagt er man nødt til at have tillid til, at alt er som det skal være og at de her problemer også hører med. En anden udfordring er udmattelsen… Jeg ville ønske, at man ikke behøvede at være så udmattet. At det, vi kalder postperformance-depressionen, ikke var så uundgåelig.</p> <p><em>Og i samarbejdet mellem jer og skuespillerne – har der været nogen problemer, hvor du ikke kunne finde en løsning?</em></p> <p>Jeg synes, at vores gruppe – her taler jeg i første omgang om mig selv, min mand Arthur og vores faste set-designer Thomas Bo Nilsson – kommunikerer godt. Selvfølgelig har vi vores små uoverensstemmelser, og det er surt nogle gange, men det er ikke på den måde problematisk. Problemerne ligger nok oftere i samarbejdet med de skuespilhuse eller festivaler og organisationer, hvor vi arbejder, fordi det vi laver er så langt fra konventionelt teater og de processer, man dér har. I de sammenhænge er det tit svært at formidle, hvad det er, vi har brug for. Og det kan godt lede til gensidig frustration. De synes, vi er besværlige, og vi synes ikke de understøtter os. De er vant til at tænke i nogle bestemte kasser og nogle bestemte processer, og når vi så beder om noget på en anden måde, så er det tit svært for dem at omstille sig. Det er f.eks. et problem i Schauspiel Köln. Selv om det er et sted, vi er rigtig glade for at arbejde, så er det også svært, fordi de har det her monsterstore skuespilhus med 6-700 ansatte, med mange afdelinger og bureaukrati. Lige så snart man går ud over den måde, de plejer at lave en produktion på, så opstår der forvirring i mange led. Og det er svært at komme ud over. Vi ved, at hver gang vi starter i et nyt hus, så skal vi igennem nogle konfliktfyldte faser, hvor vi skal prøve at forstå hinanden. Det får vi selvfølgelig også mere erfaring i – hvad vi skal sige i starten. Der er jo ingen af os, der har lavet konventionelt teater, så vi ved måske heller ikke, hvad de tager for givet. Og der er også ting, som vi tager for givet, at de forstår, men som for dem er en fuldstændig fremmed verden.</p> <p><em>Er det dig, der kommer med konceptet? Eller er det også noget fælles?</em></p> <p>Det er mig, der kommer med grundkonceptet, og så bygger vi det op i fællesskab derudfra, min mand og jeg. Jeg kommer typisk med en ramme. Jeg synes, temaerne vi tager op har meget med samfundet at gøre. Måske ikke sådan direkte realpolitisk, men det som interesserer os, som interesserer mig rigtig meget, er magtstrukturer i det hele taget og identitet. Visse forestillinger er vældig kønspolitiske også. Det problematiske i at sige politisk er, at det godt kan få sådan en klang af noget didaktisk. For os er det mere det at undersøge problematikker, som i høj grad har med politik, med magt, at gøre. Det går egentlig igen i alle forestillingerne. Det bliver undersøgelser af individet i forhold til forskellige sociale subkulturer, samfundsmæssige strukturer.</p> <p>Gennemgående kan man sige, at alle forestillingerne har været interaktive. Det er en strategi i forholdet til publikum, der bevæger sig rundt og er i dialog med skuespillerne. Der er brugt meget energi på at skabe den rumlige installation. Og tematikkerne omkring magtstruktur, som jeg nævnte før – det er også noget gennemgående. Derudover er der nogle performances, som vi har lavet i flere dele. F.eks. har vi arbejdet med hospitalsmiljøer i tre performances, hvor flere karakterer gik igen. Vi har også lavet en anden serie, som efterhånden er i mange dele, kaldet <em>The Game</em>. Det er sådan et barokt, absurd univers, sådan et slags hemmeligt samfund af Game Masters, som rejser rundt med deres tjenestestab og finder forskellige mennesker, som de udnytter i det her spil. Det er et show, der er godt at rejse med. Det er ret hurtigt sat op, og det har sådan en rock 'n' roll kvalitet. Det genererer meget energi i sig selv. Det kan også virke meget forskelligt alt efter, hvor man laver det, og med hvem, selvfølgelig.</p> <p><em>Nu til det utopiske spørgsmål. Hvis der nu ikke eksisterede nogle fysiske, biologiske, geografiske grænser, og alt var muligt, var der så noget du ville afprøve?</em></p> <p>Der er da rigtigt mange ting. Jeg kunne godt tænke mig at lave noget over rigtig lang tid eller at have rigtig mange heste med i et projekt. Eller have kæmpestore slotte, nej, faktisk ikke så meget kæmpestore slotte som højhuse. Jeg kunne godt tænke mig sådan et helt forstadshøjhuskompleks med mange høje huse. At arbejde på noget i meget lang tid sådan et sted. I flere år... Jeg kunne også godt tænke mig at lave noget, som var sådan mere integreret ét geografisk sted. F.eks. at arbejde i et boligkompleks gennem længere tid med de folk, der levede der. Det skulle være over længere tid, for at det skal være meningsfyldt. Og så vil jeg rigtig gerne lave en film. Det kommer også til at ske på et eller andet tidspunkt. Der er mange idéer... Det skal nok komme hen ad vejen.</p> <p>Hvis det skal være noget helt andet, så kunne jeg godt tænke mig at prøve at lave en forestilling på en scene. Eller prøve at arbejde på et slagteri, hvis jeg skal gå helt væk fra det, jeg ellers laver. Jeg kunne godt tænke mig at prøve at arbejde i Aldi – at have et almindeligt job. Det har jeg aldrig haft. Det er noget helt andet, ikke? Der er mange muligheder.</p> <p><em>Hvis du f.eks. kunne arbejde med afdøde kunstnere, helt utopisk?</em></p> <p>Hvis jeg skulle lave en film, kunne jeg godt tænke mig f.eks. at arbejde med Marlon Brando og Michael Jackson, men det er jo sådan lidt for sjov. Der er mange ting, man så kunne, men jeg synes, det er meget interessant at få det umulige ud af de ting, som faktisk er mulige. Det synes jeg også tit, vi gør. Vi sætter os nogle ret umulige mål, for at vi så egentlig kan nå ret langt derudaf alligevel.</p> <p><em>Har du nogle nulevende kollegaer, som du virkelig godt kunne tænke dig at lave noget med? </em></p> <p>Jeg er måske sådan lidt selvtilstrækkelig. Det har så meget at gøre med, hvad der opstår i det møde. Det kan man ikke vide. Der er jo mange kunstnere, som jeg ser op til, eller forfattere osv., som jeg synes laver noget fantastisk, men det er ikke ensbetydende med, at jeg vil arbejde sammen med dem. Ofte tværtimod. Jeg synes det, de laver, er helt og smukt i sin egen ret. Og jeg ved, hvordan jeg selv er i forhold til det, jeg laver, og det bliver ikke nødvendigvis bedre af, at man tager to ting, der er gode, og sætter dem sammen. For mange kokke fordærver maden...</p> <p>Jeg tror, at hvis jeg skulle arbejde sammen med nogen, så er det mere sådan noget som en fantastisk sanger eller en meget smuk kvinde. Altså ikke en egentlig skabende kunstner, men mere en udøvende kunstner, som kunne bidrage med noget fantastisk på den måde. Det kan måske lyde, som om jeg vil sidde alene på tronen. Man kan godt lade sig inspirere af andre, men jeg tror også, det er vigtigt, at man har plads til at træffe en beslutning suverænt som kunstnerisk leder. Og hvis man er to, kan det være svært. Jeg har så mange idéer, så hvis vi var to, så ved jeg da slet ikke, hvad jeg skulle gøre! Men hvis der er noget, jeg virkelig fortryder i mit liv, så er det, at jeg ikke har mere tid til at beskæftige mig med andre menneskers kunst. Jeg synes, der er så mange ting, som er fantastiske og inspirerende. Men det her arbejde er så altopslugende, at man for sjældent har tid til at komme ud og se, hvad andre laver.</p> <!-- node-kunstner-teaser.tpl.php --> <h2>Signa Sørensen </h2> <p> <p>Signa Sørensen (born 1975) works internationally with large site-specific fictional works and universes of experiences. Non-actors participate in installations where the audience moves freely and interactively create their own experience. Signa Sørensen has founded the artistic partnership SIGNA with the Austrian performer and media artist Arthur Koestler.</p> </p> <p> <ul> <li><a href="http://www.signa.dk/" target="blank" class="homepage">www.signa.dk</a></li> </ul> </p> Tue, 22 Mar 2011 23:31:49 +0000 editortest 23 at https://rehearsalmatters.org Lotte van den Berg https://rehearsalmatters.org/da/interview/lotte-van-den-berg Director <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="https://rehearsalmatters.org/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/Interview%20with%20LOTTE%20VAN%20DEN%20BERG_Page_5_Image_0001.jpg?itok=2xVFLx-f" width="480" height="278" alt="" /> Dordrecht January 2009 Interview: Deborah Vlaeymans <p><em>How did you start working with theatre?</em></p> <p>I am born into the world of the theatre. My dad was an actor and puppeteer, although he didn't want to be called one. He came out from behind the puppet box with the puppets on his hands and did shows on his own. We travelled around during summertime. You could say that I was a kind of gipsy daughter. At least we pretended to be like that, living in a wagon. When I was around 4 or 5 years old he began performing more in big theatres and buildings. At first in the Netherlands and Belgium and later throughout the whole world.</p> <p>That happened when I was a child and I was closely involved in these activities for a long time. At home he had a theatre and work place in his garden shed. A lot of people came to visit us. During my life I never had any moment where I thought, “Oh, I want to do theatre too".</p> <p>Actually, what I tried to do was not to do it. At the age of 15 or 16, I thought about what I wanted to do after school and at first I decided not to do theatre. I expected that I would never be as good as my father anyway. That would frustrate me a lot and I really didn't want to copy him or compare myself to him all the time. So I started doing other studies. But - the blood in your veins will always find its way around – soon I changed to theatre studies. When I was 21 I applied for a theatre director education programme, because I knew that I didn’t want to be an actress. I like to take the lead. For me that is one of the best things about making theatre. It is a social process. You do it together. You are always busy inspiring each other and motivating each other. I like to start things, to make the first move and bring people together.</p> <p>I have done some acting, but I consider myself rather an annoying opponent since I'm continuously occupied with the whole thing. Not really in it. I am somebody who is also a spectator at the same time. I take a step back and I observe and watch. I name.</p> <p><em>Let’s talk about how you start to create. How do you get an idea and make it happen?</em></p> <p>For me it starts exactly with questions like that: How does an idea arise, what am I inspired by, what do I start working with, and how do I start working? They all concern artistic choices. You don't make those choices when you are inside the rehearsal room or studio. You make them before. Who will you work for, with whom, where will you present the piece? These questions may sound very organisational, but to me they address artistic issues. I start by asking the question you just asked me.</p> <p><em>And how do you start your work? Do you have a particular method or are there any recurrent phases in your work process?</em></p> <p>That is a lot of questions. First of all, I don't have a method yet or I try always to push myself to find new ways of working and developing my work. It depends on my own energy in relation to the people I’m working with. 4 weeks ago I just started a new ensemble here in Dordrecht. It can still become anything. At this moment I'm developing my own methodology. I want to name it while I’m working on it. I don't feel that I need to know my method beforehand, and afterwards put it into practice.</p> <p>Up till now I have made many performances that were developed from an idea, a fascination, or a question. I've also created performances that were the result of books I had read. For example the performance <em>Braakland</em> which is based on a book written by Coetzee. All the actors and the other people I worked with read the 3 books. Then we asked ourselves, what happens in the moment when a human being chooses a vulnerable position when confronted with violence. What happens in the moment when you decide not to defend yourself against violence or death? When you accept your own mortality and the mortality of the others? These questions result in a desperate world view where life doesn't seem important, or where it is not necessary to defend yourself. I was also inspired by certain scenes that Coetzee wrote, although I don't feel that I am presenting his book or his story in every detail. I let myself be inspired by the story. It has never happened that I did a project where I knew beforehand the images that I wanted to see. Instead I create starting points, almost like research questions.</p> <p>I created the performance <em>Gerucht</em> two summers ago for Toneelhuis [Belgium]. I wanted it to deal with the hectic life of a city. With the multiplicity of impressions that a city creates. People often talk about this issue: that there is too much information, too many stressful impulses to deal with. I wondered if that is because of the surroundings or because of the way in which you deal with it. I decided to make a sound proof space 10 x 10 meters, 4 meters high, with a small tribune in it for 70 people, and a wall of glass. Through the wall you could look outside but you couldn't hear anything. We placed the box in the centre of different cities. For example at the bus station or in a busy square. There were 4 actors outside with microphones attached. I created this because I wanted to do something where people were placed in a busy environment, faced with a lot of impressions, and other people in motion. How do you cope with it? Can you become conscious of the way you are reacting to it? I disconnected the sound from the image. While the performance was going on, as a spectator you would notice that you are continuously manipulating and interpreting. That there is not one image of the outside world, that it depends on your wish to see certain things. What you wish for you will see. It depends on the information you get, the sounds you hear, how you look at the images.</p> <p>This example shows that my work process doesn’t start with a fixed idea or with a particular image I have beforehand. It is rather based on a dynamic, urgent, and personal question.</p> <p>As for my current work, there are various directions in which it may go...</p> <p>One desire I have is to create a movement that comes less from my own "internal" being. To leave the very personal questions I have inside me and look outside instead, to see what approaches me. I want to create situations for myself where things can approach me and where I can react on them. I've done this before, but now I want to be more extreme. You bring yourself in situations that are confusing and raise questions. This will demand that you deal with it, let yourself be inspired by it. In a way it is about getting back to earth and being in direct contact with things, the substance and the people. And not relying on abstractions, other’s opinions and images.</p> <p>With my new house and working space here in Dordrecht I also decided I would like to invite people to come and work here. I've already asked a couple of young actors, theatre makers, artists, and film makers to come and work here and to do their own projects. I want to give other people possibilities and a space to work in, and let all this influence my work. I’m interested in people's different reactions to the same thing. When you are looking at the same situation with 5 other people, everybody does something different with it. To see all these different stories alongside each other is very interesting to me. That movement feels somehow less cramped because we are not sayning, "THIS is the performance we will make”. I used to work a lot with improvisation exercises with the actors in the studio during the 6 to 8 rehearsal weeks. Now I feel that I'm doing an improvisation exercise with the whole company and with many more people. The different projects are presented alongside each other. Together they mean something.</p> <p><em>Could you tell us a bit more about how you developed your work in your former work process?</em></p> <p>I worked a lot outside - not in a studio. At school I did some site-specific projects that were documentary in style: a neighbour telling a story that I wrote down and then we played that story. Now, I let myself be inspired by a surrounding and less by a story. For example, I worked in a prison. I made a performance in the prison of Antwerp with 7 prisoners. I worked for 2 months, 3 hours a day in the prison. The 7 prisoners were not always all present, because then one had to go see the judge, another one had a punishment, or another one is outside taking a walk... Working there meant being sharp all the time because they had no idea what theatre was all about and didn’t see the importance of it. I liked that. It was not self-evident at all to create theatre in there.</p> <p>When I started working with them I told them from the start that I didn't know what it would turn out to be. I had no idea what it would be about or what the story would be. I told them that we would do a kind of research for the first 3 weeks. They talked a lot and we did exercises with playing games. They wrote texts and made drawings on paper. In all kinds of ways we collected material. It was also important for me to experience the surroundings. Every day entering through this door with beeps and handing over my passport. All that rumble. And the cards... Experiencing for myself the hierarchy and the isolation that they are living in.</p> <p>I'm fond of this open attitude with which I entered the project. I'm still inspired by it right now. Working in this immensely large building with all sorts of possibilities, located in the middle of a provincial town, "Dordrecht". I still say to everybody, “I don't know yet what it will be about”. That is for me the important thing. That you take your time to start and see where you are. Who is standing around you? What sort of city is it? What is it that you want to say about it?</p> <p><em>What is your deadline? Are you expected to produce something for example by spring?</em></p> <p>Yes, around summer time I should have a result. But above all it is written in my plans that I have ultimate freedom. To be able to create a real meeting or contact with somebody, you need absolute openness and you need time. From the moment you run ahead and start knowing what you need to know from somebody you don't know yet, what happens then? Is it possible to work without this deadline and all those images that are supposed to be there?</p> <p><em>Is this comparable with your earlier creations? Or is this something completely new?</em></p> <p>No, it is comparable with my earlier work but now it is on a larger scale. At the moment I am also expected to take part in the whole organization, in the technique, the production and all that. To be as open and flexible as possible in relation to what will happen. That way you can make theatre less heavy and more changeable.</p> <p>For example, I am not the sort of person that prepares for rehearsals. I don't do that. I don't know... I don't feel the need for that. Things happen and then I react to what I see. I trust the energy that is in me. The concentration with which one can watch. If I already start by watching for what I would like to see - then I'm not watching. It is the most important thing in directing theatre that you watch and that you don't see what you want to see.</p> <p><em>What do you say or do on the very first day when you meet the group or the performers? </em></p> <p><em></em>Well, I never ask people, "Do you want to be in my performance"? I have asked people if they could do their own projects, here in this city. I've said that there is a possibility that we will make something together or that I will do a big performance where he or she can be involved. But it is not certain. So actually, I've also asked all the performers involved in the house to accept this extremely open process. Some people get nervous and feel challenged by that. I've asked the people where I felt that it was right. People who said that they would like to do that.</p> <p><em>Besides accepting the openness of the process, what is in your view essential for this sort of creation process to succeed? Or, what is essential in a creation process?</em></p> <p>To be honest, I don't know that yet. What is important for me right now is that things start to move and keep on moving. That you experience something and that you react to it, just as it is the case in a rehearsal process. You put something on the table, a sketch or a story, and people react to it. Through the movements they make or the dramatic scenes they create. That is important from the start. That energy is generated.  It is a motion that is kind of like a drop of oil. It spreads.</p> <p>That one action generates the next action. That you experience something and you start looking for ways in which you can tell this to others, to an audience. It doesn't necessarily have to be theatre. Not that I don't like theatre or don't value its importance. But I think there are also other ways. Because not every feeling or every experience demands the same shape. The motion that we initiate here in Dordrecht should be something that leads to further projects. I'm really trying hard not to think from one project to the next project. I hope that the things we do now will make the next movements necessary. And also make them possible. So that you let your next projects arise out of what is happening now.</p> <p>But of course in theatre business you need to plan ahead. I try to go against this. This goes for partnerships, the programming, and the performers or the people that I work with. First of all I want to agree on working with a "carte blanche" based on trust. It is a reaction towards our time where one has to deal with subsidies and their conditions. It is always about a specific format. People really have a need to name all things, and to name them according to the result. "What will it become, what is it about, what will it mean"? Maybe it is a sort of absolute fear of unclarity.</p> <p>I think art should challenge people and let them be confused. Art should challenge them to get lost and not to know, or letting the "not to know" exist. I think you can demand this of your audience. If you work within a well defined format and you tell about the not knowing and getting lost from within a very clear frame it is rather hypocritical.</p> <p>I appreciate the not knowing. Actually there is no other way. It will always happen during the creation process. I experience it all the time. I was going to make a performance about touch, the unconditional need for physical touch. Just before we started rehearsing my relationship with my partner ended. Just when I thought I really wanted to create something about this theme, I absolutely didn't want to create something about it. On the other hand, it really  pinpoints it. The theme you deal with catches up with you. I think it is very complicated, but also very healthy. It should make the project a success.</p> <p>I gave my new project the name: “Getting lost mapped”. We will map the “getting lost”, even though it is not really possible. I really do hope that we get lost; that we bring ourselves in situations where we really don't know. I hope it will be an inspiration.</p> <p><em>Can you imagine an ideal rehearsal process? What would that be like?</em></p> <p>Well, I think it is happening right now - possibly because I'm starting up here in Dordrecht.</p> <p>I'm sitting here in the kitchen, believing in this utopia. A year from now it will probably look different. But because of this, I let myself be pushed forward in a way. I don't think it is the ideal creation process for everybody. But to me, right at this moment, to have this house with all the space, all the possibilities, not only working alone but giving others the chance to work here too – is all very important to me.</p> <p>On the other hand, I believe that an ideal creation process is far from ideal. That it is not very well shaped and not delivered within perfect surroundings. As I said before, nothing was ideal about working in the prison – and that made it precisely ideal to me. That you don't have the perfect conditions, but that you are continuously dealing with situations. That you need to react all the time to what is approaching; circumstances that confuse you and urge you to take a step further. Something you would never have come up with yourself and probably never would have wished for either. But it gives you new impulses. When you are reacting more than creating. I associate such a process with something more public, that these impulses comes from outside. I find it hard to imagine it happening in a black box. But of course it is possible. It could happen. Still I associate it with a process where creating means being influenced by the real world around you.</p> <p>Which is also one of the reasons why I choose for my performances to take place outside. In one way they are very detailed and outlined, but still birds will fly over it anyway. Or there is a tree moving back and forth. That is very important to me. The performance should be enclosed by the world, an environment that gives a rhythm and a movement. No matter how small it is. People could pass by, the noise of the highway far off, something that is continuously present and doesn't stop for as long as the performance is happening.</p> <p><em>Do you have an idea that you would like to try out if anything was possible, no limitations what so ever?</em></p> <p>Yes, again it has to do with my activities right now. But there are all kinds of physical limitations here, also financial limitations. Even though we've received money, we always need more.</p> <p>First of all, the days should be longer. Right now the restriction here is that it's already getting dark again. I should have my own time. Also, I think it is very important that I'm closely involved in the organization. Involved in questions like: Where will we put this table, and what to do with this desk? How will we divide the rooms? What to do with the floors? These are really important questions. At the same time you want to be involved in the projects, and the people creating material. You want to look at them and give them your full attention. You can't do this all at the same time.</p> <p>What I want to do and what I will do is not only working here in Dordrecht, but going abroad. The first year we will work locally in this little city in the Netherlands. We do this very consciously. Next year we will go on a long journey, probably to Africa with a group of people, around 12 to 15 people for 6 months. We will work there according to the same principles and do presentations. Afterwards we will return to Dordrecht with these projects. I'm trying right now to get a sort of “carte blanche” from different organizations and theatres in the Netherlands.</p> <p>It means for example that they will reserve the theatre for us for one week or 10 days without knowing what we will present. I hope to meet this openness from my actors, from the organizations I work for, programme managers, and from the audience.  That together we take this risk and carry this risk. Openness not only as the theme of the performance, but also  as a definition of my work process.</p> <p>We look openly at things and don't immediately start by our own presumptions. To have faith and let things approach you.</p> <p>The result could be 10 small performances or it could be one big performance. Maybe a dance performance using a book. The problem is that as soon as you start programming and you know beforehand that it must be a 1½ hour performance for a theatre with 400 seats, then you have limited yourself again. We haven’t figured that out yet and it is not certain where it will take us. We will experience it during the process. It will be a real experiment.</p> <p> </p> <!-- node-kunstner-teaser.tpl.php --> <h2>Lotte van den Berg</h2> <p> <p>Lotte van den Berg (b. 1973) creates work that sits between the worlds of mime, dance and theatre, characterised by the wish to create a space without words or rules, where the spectator becomes a participant. Much of her work is created on location, and she chooses to work not only with professional actors, but also with young people and amateurs.</p> </p> <p> <ul> <li><a href="http://www.omsk.nl/" target="blank" class="homepage">www.omsk.nl</a></li> </ul> </p> Sun, 13 Mar 2011 15:56:36 +0000 turegjorup 4 at https://rehearsalmatters.org