subjective reflections on objective work: grotowski in...

Subjective Reflections on Objective Work: Grotowski in IrvineAuthor(s): Lisa WolfordSource: TDR (1988-), Vol. 35, No. 1 (Spring, 1991), pp. 165-180Published by: The MIT PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1146117 .

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Subjective Reflections on

Objective Work

Grotowski in Irvine

Lisa Wolford

Author's Note: As a participant of Mr. Grotowski's Objective Drama Work- session, I considered it appropriate to request permission before writing about the work. Grotowski's wariness regarding public documentation is well known, and can in part be attributed to his aversion toformulaic interpretation. After consider-

ing my request to write about Objective Drama, Grotowski consented, on condition that I frame my analysis as a subjective response, and refrain from directly quoting his statements made during the course of the seminar. I wish, therefore, to highlight the fact that any ideas or assertions I allude to as having emanated fiom Grotowski represent only my own subjective understanding of his intent. No photographic documentation of the work exists.

During the winter and spring of 1989, I participated in the Objective Drama Program at the University of California-Irvine. Objective Drama is the term used by Jerzy Grotowski to designate the phase of his activity begun in 1983, following his emigration to the United States. A 1984 "Research and Development Report" for the program describes Gro- towski's focus:

Objective Drama is concerned with those elements of the ancient rituals of various world cultures which have a precise and therefore objective impact on participants, quite apart from solely theological or symbolic significance. Mr. Grotowski's intention is to isolate and study such elements of performative movements, dances, songs, incantations, structures of language, rhythms and uses of space. Those elements are sought by means of a distillation process from the complex through the simple and through the separation of elements one from the other (Cohen I984).

"Objective," therefore, can be understood to designate a type of perform-

The Drama Review 35, no. 1 (T129), Spring 1991

I65



166 Lisa Wolford

ative technique which has a determinable effect on the participant's state of energy, analogous to the objective impact of undegenerated ritual. "Drama," in this context, refers not only to the enactment of scripted material (though this is one important aspect of the work), but to the performative impulse in all its forms.

Since I985, Grotowski's research has been carried out primarily in Pontedera, Italy, under the auspices of the Centro per la Sperimentazione e la Ricerca Teatrale. Grotowski also teaches at the University of California-Irvine (UCI) for approximately two weeks each spring. The continuing project at UCI, which still falls within the classification of Objective Drama Research, is recognized as an entirely separate activity from the research of the Italian Workcenter.

When I participated in U.C.-Irvine's Objective Drama Worksession in 1989, the bulk of instruction was administered by American director James Slowiak, Grotowski's assistant during the previous five years.1 Slowiak worked with the participants for five months prior to Gro- towski's arrival, instructing us in the basic techniques of Objective Drama and preparing various "performance structures" for presentation to Gro- towski. It is customary for Grotowski, in recent stages of his research, to allow great independence to trained assistants or "technical specialists" with whom he collaborates. Slowiak's work, rooted in a traditional West- ern understanding of theatre, represents one major aspect of Objective Drama Research.

The primary workspace for Objective Drama at UCI is a converted barn located at the edge of the campus, bordering a wildlife preserve. South of the barn stands a circular wooden building, the yurt, utilized for work on more intimately scaled actions. Certain exercises and activities also took place in the fields which stretch out behind these buildings.

Participants worked for an average of 19-30 hours per week under Slowiak's direction, including lengthy weekend sessions and occasional overnight marathons. During Grotowski's two-week residence the group met nightly, generally beginning at 7:oo P.M. and working till 3:oo or sometimes 5:00 A.M. While this is far less than the commitment required of participants at the center in Pontedera (minimum one year commitment, 6 days a week, 8-14 hours per day), it seemed excessive to actors conditioned by American standards of training. No one who applied for admittance to the worksession was denied, although a number of those present did not regard themselves primarily as actors. At the time of Grotowski's arrival in May, our ensemble consisted of 14 participants, all students or alumni of the University of California. The main body of our group work can be classified as follows: physical training, vocal work, individual actions, group activities, and development of performance structures.

Physical Training Since the time of Grotowski's "Theatre of Productions" phase, the

director's work has been associated with an arduously challenging method of physical training. Slowiak explained that the training structure as we encountered it, which lasted for approximately 30 minutes and could be completed by any reasonably healthy and persevering individual, had evolved from a more demanding regimen. Throughout the course of the work, the genuine limitations of each participant were respected. While participants were expected to work toward the perfect accomplish-



Jerzy Grotowski 167

ment of each element of the training, evaluation was consistently tem- pered by recognition of the individual's progress and stage of development.

With Slowiak's guidance, each participant developed six individual exercises. We were told that these should be difficult exercises, designed to recondition the body in a specific, tangible way. In designing a training regimen, we were instructed to consider our own areas of particular weakness. One actor's training would emphasize flexibility and equilib- rium, while another's would be geared towards improving strength and

speed. Slowiak discouraged "cotton" exercises (fashionable aerobics, for example, or activities which the participant could easily perform), in addition to purely gymnastic choices which might lead to mechanical

repetition. Many participants incorporated some variation of the "cat" and "bridge" exercises described by Grotowski in Towards a Poor Theatre (I968), along with the more mundane choices of sit-ups and push-ups. Occasionally training was performed in different locations (the smaller work space, a nearby field, the beach) to make us more attentive to the influence of changing environmental factors.

Along with the physical exercises, participants developed a precise flow of associations. Such associations might involve relation to a person or

object in the room, an image, or a specific memory. Once the basic

physical aspects of the training were mastered, participants devoted attention to interacting with the real or imaginary partner. While the external structure of the training was generally to remain unchanged, improvisation was encouraged in relation to the flow of associations.

The goals of training in Objective Drama, as well as many of the

techniques, are similar to those articulated by Grotowski in Towards a Poor Theatre. The primary purpose of training is to eradicate blocks in the actor's organism, so that no obstruction might interfere between im-

pulse and manifestation. When Grotowski evaluated the training of the

group, the participants who received highest praise were not the athletes and bodybuilders, but those who seemed least equipped to engage in strenuous physical activity. For these participants, the task of surmount- ing their physical limitations became the focus of the training, causing them to perform in a modest, persevering way.

Vocal Work

The significance of voice work in the context of Objective Drama is related not only to actor training, but also to what Grotowski calls the science of "yantra" and "organon." The yantra is an instrument "as precise as a surgeon's scalpel, which at the same time can connect you to the laws of the universe, of nature, as an instrument for astronomical observation."

These are instruments which are the result of long studies. You not only need to know how to construct them, as with certain types of dance and singing which have certain objective effect on you, but you also need to know how to use them to avoid committing stupidities, and to reach a totality, a fullness (I987:37).

"Stupidities" include, but are not limited to, syncretic combination of traditional material derived from different cultures, and the external imitation of a technique as opposed to the attempt to locate the sound or



I68 Lisa Wolford

movement pattern through exploration in the actor's own body. One example of such inappropriate combination in the group's work drew immediate and harsh criticism from Grotowski. During the months prior to Grotowski's arrival, we had experimented with an undulating Haitian dance, the yanvalou, in conjunction with our vocal training. Under Slow- iak's instruction, we had combined the dance with an American folk song, "Poor Wayfaring Stranger." Grotowski disapproved not only of our abysmal execution of the yanvalou, but also of the arbitrary and illogical juxtaposition of Haitian movement and American song.

The traditional songs of various cultures provide rich material for the distillation of yantra and organon. Grotowski distinguishes between "songs of quality," those which are rooted in a culture's ethnic or reli- gious traditions, and melodies of popular culture. The latter serve no purpose in his work, as a low-quality song cannot provide impetus for a high-quality action. A true song of quality, such as a Haitian incantation or a Shaker hymn, carries with it a specific pattern of vocal vibrations. This associated complex of vibrations, which cannot be conveyed by existing systems of musical notation, produces the creative response in the actor. "Westerners confuse song with melody," says Grotowski (I987:36). The dilettante is unable at first even to perceive these subtle vibratory patterns, or the way in which sound is produced through different resonators of the body.

As with any precise and delicate instrument, songs which function as yantra or organon must be handled respectfully. If a song of quality is coopted by popular culture, as for example the English ballad "Green- sleeves," the song eventually becomes desacralized and the original vibratory pattern distorted. Songs which were used in performance structures or as part of other actions were not to be sung inattentively or outside the context of the work.

This was particularly true of the Creole songs taught by Haitian ritual- ist Maud Robart. Paticipants were requested never to work with these songs save under Robart's supervision. The most basic reason, as the actors were explicitly told, was that they might begin to sing the songs incorrectly, creating patterns which would later be difficult to break. On another level, Robart's techniques and songs constitute some of the most sophisticated yantra of the Objective Drama program, and are capable of producing a profound inner effect on the participant. Participants who requested to audio tape Robart's songs were denied. Tape recordings, we were instructed, cannot capture the vibratory pattern. When teaching a new song to the group, one leader would repeat the song until other participants learned it well enough to follow.

Songs were repeated until the song "arrived." Sometimes a song would arrive after only a dozen repetitions; at other times, we worked with a single melody for an hour or more. This required attention not only to tempo and melody, but also to the use of appropriate resonators and the placement of the voice. Exercises described in Towards a Poor Theatre, devoted to opening different resonators of the body, were instrumental in our group work. As with all aspects of the training, emphasis was placed on maintaining connection with an outside partner. Actors were not told to use the head or lower belly resonators, but were instead directed to converse with the ceiling or sing to the floor, then listen for the echo.

For each song integrated into the group's vocal training, a simple structure of movement was developed. This could involve a particular type of walking, running in a certain pattern, or even a simple swaying mo-



Jerzy Grotowski I69

tion. These movement structures were perceived to be in service to the song, enabling the actor to sing more freely. As with all training structures and group activities, vocal work was regarded in some sense as performance. Participants dressed in white clothing, with women in loose, flowing skirts. Preparation for vocal work involved a specific arrangement of the space, and a particular type of lighting. We were consistently required to execute details of the songs and movement structures with the same degree of professionalism and attention which would be accorded to public presentation.

The majority of songs incorporated into our group's vocal structure consisted of hymns from the American Shaker movement. "This is something that's always been missing from the work," Slowiak mused, "genuine traditional material for Americans." Our encounter with the values encoded in the Shaker songs, such as simplicity, humility, and impeccable attention to details of craftsmanship, provided us with a challenge which infused and richly inspired our way of working. While certain elements of Shaker tradition, for example separation by gender, informed our development of movement structures, in no instance did we attempt to imitate or reconstruct authentic Shaker dance.

Group Activities

In addition to our physical and vocal training regimens, participants worked with a number of structured physical activities. These group activities, which involved neither narrative nor dialog, centered on the execution of specific objectives within a predetermined structure. An exercise called "the Motions" [see I Wayan Lendra's description in this issue] represents the most rigidly structured of such activities, while the gamelike "Watching" illustrates a freer, more improvisational structure.

"The purpose of the Watching, quite simply," Slowiak prefaced, "is to watch." In the context of this activity, however, watching is not to be equated with passive observation. The participant is required simultaneously to maintain active engagement and detached awareness. The Watching is structured in such a way as to bring every participant, regard- less of physical condition, into confrontation with her/his own limits of attention and endurance. Watching is led by a select team wearing white clothing. One leader designates the parameters of the work site and in- structs newcomers in the rules of the game: no verbalization, no touching, no collisions, no daily-life activity, no imitation of animals, and no crawling on hands and knees. The participants, positioned throughout the space by the leader, are told to follow along until they discover the structure of the game. They are instructed that they should not imitate the leaders, but rather should respond attentively to the various component activities demonstrated by the Watching team. Once the game has begun, participants should not stop for any reason. The structure involves various types of physical movement, most particularly running and dance. A section called "pulsations," for example, involves running back and forth from the periphery of the space to the center point, following the leader's rhythm. In another segment, "half moons," participants describe arcs at various distances from the center point, moving like spiders constructing a giant web. Watching culminates in a sequence of "connec- tions/disconnections": physical dialog between pairs of actors. "This shouldn't be cocktail party chatter," Slowiak explained. "You should have a specific and meaningful reason for contact with your partner."



170 Lisa Wolford

Individual Actions

An "Individual Action" is a solo performance using as a point of depar- ture text, song, or situation. This classification can be applied to a wide variety of solo performances, ranging from brief fragments with neither story nor discursive speech, to fully developed, scripted actions. The first such action, the "Companion Action," required that each of us choose a literary, historical, or mythological figure of our own gender about whom we could compile research. We were then assigned to develop a brief action suggested by some aspect of the character's life. Dialog was proscribed, although we could, if desired, introduce text in the form of song. Actors were discouraged from conveying situation in a cliched manner through use of props. Witnesses were instructed to begin with two questions in their evaluation of such Actions: "Did you believe it?" and/or "Did you understand it?" Actions were judged to be successful insofar as they fulfilled either or both of these criteria. Similar assignments involved construction of a dream Action, a simple story set to one of the Shaker songs, and an Action using verses from the book Indian Tales by Jaime De Angulo.

After participants had developed a repeatable score, Slowiak created a performance montage by juxtaposing the Actions of different participants, instructing actors to adjust their individual scores in response to the partner. At times, such combinations seemed arbitrary; when successful, however, the juxtaposition of such Actions created a larger story line which synthesized individual fragments and suggested a coherent meaning to the observer.

Grotowski discusses another variety of such structures, which he calls a sort of "individual ethno-drama" in "Tu es lefils de quelqu'un" (1987). This structure, which figures prominently in Objective Drama research, also features elements which foreshadow the transition to Grotowski's next phase of work, "Art as a Vehicle." One Action which demonstrated such possibilities was developed by an Iranian actor who had participated in the project during the previous five years. It was based on the Sufi fable "Exile in the Occident." While the narrative text was in English, the action featured Farsi songs and performative aspects of the dervish tradition.

The actor began in a seated position, his gaze moving sharply from left to right as he repeated the words "beginning, end." This motion carried him to his feet and into a slow, deliberate dance. He spoke of hunting with his brother in hostile lands, and having been imprisoned by men who denied his God. The actor guided witnesses on a magical journey to his Father's house. A circle of black cloth on the floor became his prison, which he entered by means of a slow somersault. The hoopoe which visited him there was created by a swathe of fabric wound around the actor's arm, and a tower he later ascended was suggested by a white robe suspended from the ceiling. Upon reaching the Father's house, the hunter was told that he must for a time return to the Occidental prison. The actor was propelled, whirling, through the space, and collapsed again into his tiny cell. "May the Father deliver us from the captivity of nature," he whispered, directly addressing the witnesses. "Amen."

When Grotowski viewed this Action, he praised it as an excellent example of art-as-meditation, a vehicle through which the actor might encounter his own cultural traditions in a way which could further his journey of personal development. While he criticized technical aspects of



Jerzy Grotowski 171

the performance, Grotowski encouraged the actor to continue exploring the possibilities of the structure.

Performance Structures

Perhaps the most significant aspect of our group's work centered on the development of performance structures. Performance structures, which most closely correspond to a conventional Western understanding of theatre art, are developed actions with a repeatable structure, involving narrative, characterization, mise-en-scene, and montage, and, usually, scripted dialog, either spoken or in the form of song. Slowiak directed participants in the development of two major performance structures, one based on the Egyptian Book of the Dead and another on the Native American stories retold by Jaime De Angulo. The use of the term "performance structure," as opposed to scene, play, or performance, serves to erase the distinction between rehearsal and presentation. Since the work of Objective Drama most frequently occurs without public witness, the spectre of some future performance date is not allowed to dictate the pace of development of an action. Work performed for presentation is not privileged over the daily effort of discovery. By the same token, the safeguard of "rehearsal" no longer exists as an excuse for lazy or half- hearted efforts.

The process of rendering is governed by a number of rules: no improvised conversation, no random violence, no stomping on the floor, no imitation of animals, no crawling on hands and knees, no imitation of trance states, and no processions, to name a few.

Slowiak used the term "rendering" as interchangeable with "performance structure." "Rendering," as a verb, was used in place of the word "improvisation," a somewhat suspect term in Grotowskian vocabulary. Slowiak linked the term "rendering" to a designer's sketch or working drawing, which conveys the basic parameters of a concept in unpolished form. He also evoked a secondary meaning of the word as illustrated in the process of rendering butter, the distillation of an object to its essence.

The process of rendering is governed by a number of rules: no improvised conversation, no random violence, no stomping on the floor, no imitation of animals, no crawling on hands and knees, no imitation of trance states, and no processions, to name a few. These elements, deliber- ately proscribed from our work, characterize certain cliches of avant- garde and ritual theatre which have falsely been associated with the work of Grotowski.

When our group began work on performance structures, in the first instance a montage based on the Egyptian Book of the Dead, we were instructed that our primary task was to tell a story. Slowiak had distilled the Book of the Dead to its simplest narrative form. A young man dies and his soul is separated from his body. The spirit of the young man enters the underworld, where his heart is weighed and he is judged to



172 Lisa Wolford

be righteous. He then progresses through a variety of challenges and temptations, aided by the spirit of his Guardian Brother, and is ultimately granted eternal life after reaching the palace of the Great Mother. Slowiak began by assigning each participant a number of roles and specific tasks which he or she was to perform. We were then given one hour to prepare our first version of the action. At the end of an allotted time, actors' proposals were presented to Slowiak for approval.

During early stages of development, our actions were explored nonver- bally. When verbalization was necessary, we were instructed to use song rather than improvised dialog. This should not be a hummed or improvised song, but rather a genuine, known melody. Only when a fragment of action arrived at a fairly developed structure was minimal dialog intro- duced to clarify action and elucidate narrative.

It was not uncommon to spend hours or even days developing a fragment which comprised only moments of the eventual structure. The actor in this context is required not only to remember the basic outlines of an action (here I pick up the knife, here I cross to the corpse . . .), but also to execute each task with precise attention to the details which characterize lived experience (where is the tension in my hands as I hold the knife?). Stanislavski's Method of Physical Actions, which stresses the importance

Critics who suggest that Grotowski's recent research bears no relevance to theatre practice reveal their ignorance of the full range of experimentation conducted under his aegis.

of physical detail in creating a character's inner life, is a fundamental component of this type of work. Vasily Toporkov's book, Stanislavski in Rehearsal (I979), was a required text for the course.

Despite this emphasis on the methods of Stanislavski, the Book of the Dead rendering could by no means be regarded as an example of naturalistic theatre. Characters of the Book of the Dead are superhuman, sometimes divine animals, and can in no sense be encompassed or depicted within the limited parameters of naturalistic behavior. While developing this performance structure, we were discouraged from formulating our characters based on theological or mythological abstractions, an approach which would inevitably have led to vague and superficial characterization. Instead, we were directed to explore and discover our characters beginning with manifest elements of physical reality-a way of walking, a timbre of speech.

Certain fragments of the Book of the Dead structure resembled daily interaction more closely than did others. An exchange between the Trav- eler and the Keeper of the Scales, for example, grew from an image of dickering salesmen in a marketplace, though the objects of trade were sacred weapons awarded the Traveler in the course of his journey. Other actions, by contrast, were highly stylized. When the Traveler crossed a river on his way to the East Side of the Sky, this barrier was suggested by a line of women performing an intricately synchronized score of individual actions, freely adapted from descriptions of a Shaker dance. The



Jerzy Grotowski I73

Traveler's encounter with the Divine Crocodile and his subsequent rescue by the Guardian Brother also took the form of an elaborate dance. Even episodes such as this, however, were underscored with personal associations. While on one level the actress was directed to play the Crocodile as divine monster, at another she was told to work with the association of a mischievous sister terrorizing her younger brother.

The Book of the Dead rendering, in its most developed version, featured a broad range of theatrical spectacle, including lighting, costume, and minimal scenic elements. Clothing and objects were actor-generated, and for the most part were intended to suggest an Egyptian influence. The responsibility to communicate a clear and coherent narrative, to perform an action as a testimonial before witnesses, figured prominently in our development process. In every conceivable sense, this work represented a realized and disciplined theatrical performance. Critics who suggest that Grotowski's recent research bears no relevance to theatre practice reveal their ignorance of the full range of experimentation conducted under his aegis.

Grotowski's Seminar

Grotowski's arrival in May signaled a transition into a very different sort of working process. Although Slowiak had attempted, throughout the course of the worksession, to defuse the notion that our five months of creative activity existed only as preparation for Grotowski's arrival, the final weeks of our preliminary work were characterized by a more focused intensity of purpose, as well as by anxiety and anticipation.

During the first night of Grotowski's attendance, participants presented their work on the Book of the Dead and Indian Tales performance structures, as well as other prepared actions and various songs from our vocal training structure. Grotowski offered no response at this time, but observed silently from his table in the corner. The following night's session, we were told, would consist of analysis. Participants arrived the next evening to find rows of stools set up inside the barn, an arrangement which came to signal a time for verbal or analytical response. Grotowski asked that participants refrain from taking notes, as he did not offer formulas, but rather sought to communicate a general understanding.

Descriptions ofJerzy Grotowski as a personality are many and varied. Taken together, they comprise a colorful, contradictory array of fictions and projections, which I would be loath to increase. One aspect of Gro- towski's manner which does not fully emerge in such descriptions is the man's extraordinary warmth and unparalleled ability to charm. During this first verbal session, it seemed he wished to welcome the group and put us at our ease. His harshest criticisms were softened by humor, his remarks punctuated by laughter and an engaging smile. In discussing our work on Indian Tales, Grotowski mentioned that he identified himself with the character of Old Man Coyote, the mischievous Master/Trick- ster. "I am Coyote Old Man," he quoted, speaking for the first time in English. "I am very old. I am so old" (and here he paused and smiled, leaning forward as if inviting us to share some secret, his expansive voice echoing throughout the room) "that I know what was before after, and after before." Participants responded with joyous laughter, for the first time relaxing in the presence of this enigmatic man; we had been won, and in some fashion, also warned.

Grotowski began his analysis by speaking briefly about our work on



I74 Lisa Wolford

the Book of the Dead, praising the fact that we had developed a precise and repeatable structure. This, he said, was in the best sense, not amateur. However, he continued, there is a difference between structure and life. While it is possible for the amateur to create life without structure, this would be like a vision sculpted in smoke, something which could not endure and could not be reconstructed. We had, in the Book of the Dead performance, discovered the structure, the vehicle for life, but not the way to infuse this structure with vibrancy. Only in our presentation of Shaker songs, Grotowski observed, did life break through.

Grotowski criticized the second of our performance structures, scenes from Indian Tales, because we had in this instance failed also at the level of conveying narrative. In constructing a performance text, he observed, one could either begin with communicating story and then proceed to exploration of meaning, or begin with an idea of meaning and discover the way to present this in story form. Only as a third step, he indicated, should one's focus turn to depiction of the incidents or individual actions. Our presentation of Indian Tales, essentially a montage of disparate vi- gnettes, had inverted the logic of this process.

Grotowski commented specifically on the action of aJewish actor based on the memory of her grandmother, which comprised one element of the Indian Tales structure. While he acknowledged that his attention had been held by the actor's characterization, Grotowski chided her for ob- scuring the narrative of the scene. In the original text, the episode in question is written as an exchange between two characters. The actor's choice to stage the episode as a one-person scene, without any clear attempt to delineate separate characters, made it impossible for the observer to follow the logic of the text. Grotowski observed that such a choice of staging was highly irresponsible. The actor, he stressed, is under obliga- tion to make her work clear and comprehensible to the spectator. This does not mean, he qualified, that the actor should court the spectator of the marketplace, far from it. Rather, the actor's performance must be motivated by an impulse to communicate with something, some witness, outside the self, otherwise the work degenerates into self-indulgence.

Grotowski's observations on the responsibility of the actor to communicate led him to discuss a series of "so-called individual actions" based on verses from the book Indian Tales. Grotowski noted that throughout these actions participants generally did not direct attention outward, towards some partner, but instead remained focused on their own internal processes. He wryly observed that the majority of participants' actions had involved lying on the floor curled up in fetal position. "Embryos," he whispered in a tiny, high-pitched voice, curling forward in his chair, "embryos. .." Our laughter softened his frank criticism of the work. If we had no more refined dramatic sense, might we at least pay attention to balancing the space? Nothing in drama can happen, he stressed, except in relation to the partner, to some Other. In actions such as these, where is the partner, what is the story? For what, outside oneself, is the action being done?

Returning to the Book of the Dead structure, Grotowski did not seem displeased with the dramaturgy, though here as well he made various comments regarding clarity. He cited an instance near the beginning of the action in which the soul, or Traveler, is blinded by a black hood placed over his head. Slowiak intended this to represent the near-death experience in which the dying person recalls moving rapidly through a black tunnel before emerging into a blaze of light. For Grotowski, this



Jerzy Grotowski I75

intention was not conveyed. As a witness he saw one actor getting a silly hat, which did not evoke the sense of movement through a tunnel. The first and most basic level on which meaning is created, Grotowski observed, is that of manifest physical reality. One cannot ignore the presence of the actor's body as sign. Gender, age, physical appearance are all signi- fiers which the witness immediately registers, and which dominate her/ his reading of an action. An incident which occurred several days later, during our work on this structure, further illustrates Grotowski's point. At a certain moment in the Book of the Dead action, the soul of the Traveler for the first time encounters the Guardian Brother face-to-face. The Brother, to simulate a physical resemblance to the Traveler, wears a long black wig and a similar costume, comprised of a brief linen wrap. Traveler and Brother meet and, hand-in-hand, survey the journey the Traveler has undergone. Grotowski asked his assistant, Maud Robart, to describe whe she observed in this action. Slowiak translated from Ro- bart's French: "I see two men ... in love... on a beach in California." This answer produced a spate of embarrassed laughter from the actors, and a wry, affirming nod from Grotowski.

While he encouraged us to grapple with issues of profound content, Grotowski simultaneously warned us against the dangers of sentimental, symbolic, or "mumbo jumbo" work. Various elements of our Book of the Dead structure were cited as evidence of our indulgence in such ten- dencies. First among these was the choice of lighting: dozens of white candles placed throughout the room. The primary purpose of lighting, Grotowski mused, is quite simply to light. Our choice was ineffective in this sense, as witnesses frequently had difficulty discerning details of the action. Any use of lighting to create atmosphere or general mood was judged to be false and "symbolic." Grotowski pointed out that we could have utilized many alternatives other than candlelight, for example kero- sene lanterns or even "good old electricity."

The use of natural elements-fire, water, earth-presents special dangers in the realm of symbolic action. Such elements immediately evoke a vast complex of emotional associations and must be utilized only in those situations where the introduction of the element in and of itself fulfills a precise function within the action. Grotowski questioned our use of fire (to symbolize purification), earth (to symbolize rebirth), and water (to symbolize the Mother's compassionate love). He returned to this issue frequently throughout the course of the workshop, and on one occasion delivered a fierce diatribe against artists who used such elements in a manipulative or imprecise fashion. He remarked that he had, indeed, used natural elements in the scenography of his own work, but that this choice had always been dictated by precise technical considerations. Other artists (and Slowiak's work with the group was included in this general condemnation) were held culpable for using such items merely to create an emotional response or general mood. Grotowski's first proposal was to do away with such symbolic factors, as well as with our cumbersome array of objects and suggestions of Egyptian costume. In addition, he proposed composition of a new action based on the same narrative, in which Robart would use traditional Haitian material.

THE BOOK OF THE DEAD

Grotowski was careful that his experiments with the Book of the Dead not be interpreted as restaging another director's work. Rather, he wished



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to demonstrate various approaches for further development of the presentation. Having discovered a repeatable score, Grotowski noted, we had allowed the vitality of the performance to die away, clinging instead to superficial forms and images. Grotowski insisted that we eliminate all inessential objects, as the work should not be about such items, but rather about characters and actions.

Our first evening of work focused on the death of the protagonist and the separation of corpse from soul. Grotowski addressed the level of meaning created by choices of casting and costume. Why, he queried, if the Traveler is intended to represent the soul, is this character portrayed by the most definitively carnal actor in the room? Carnality, Grotowski emphasized, is not a matter of the body per se, but rather of the way in which one regards the body. Of itself the body is innocent; it is the human attitude which transforms corporality into object by participating in the game of mirrors, seeing one's image in the eyes of the Other. The actor who portrayed the Traveler is a young man of developed physique who would be judged handsome by the aesthetic criteria of Western culture. His brief costume further emphasized the actor's physicality. The actor who played the corpse was, by contrast, dressed in black shirt and trousers, his body almost completely obscured. Grotowski pointed out that given these performers and this set of circumstances, the witness perceives the Traveler not as soul, bur rather as animal energy and vital force. He instructed the two actors to exchange roles and costumes, then asked witnesses what they received from this new set of signals. Observ- ers concurred that the new actor's execution of the score conveyed greater vulnerability, due not only to the actor's less defined musculature, but also to an elusive quality of innocence which characterized his manner and bearing.

During another session, Grotowski used an element of one actor's score to demonstrate the difference between action and gesture. The Keeper of the Scales must, in a certain moment, attract the attention of the sleeping Chorus so that they may judge the Traveler's worthiness. "Lift up your faces and look at him!" she commands. The actor had developed a set hand gesture intended both to indicate the Chorus to the Traveler, and to elicit their response. Grotowski observed that this gesture did not emanate from inside the body, as with any true impulse, but rather began at the shoulder, weakly dissociating the arm from the body. Physical action combines impulse and intention. What do you want to do to your partner? How do you wish to make him/her react? Action emanates always from some intention towards the Other, made manifest through the body. The physical score is comprised of such actions/intentions, not of their manifestation through details of gesture. Grotowski suggested that we abandon all elements of the strict, external score, directing us instead to rediscover the true line of impulses, actions, and intentions.

MAUD ROBART'S ACTION

Maud Robart, a long-time associate of Grotowski's and a continuing leader in the Objective Drama Program, constructed a very different sort of action based on themes presented in the Egyptian Book of the Dead. A specialist in singing and traditional Haitian performative material, Robart has collaborated with Grotowski periodically since the Theatre of Sources phase. For her action Robart selected those participants she judged most capable of quickly learning the yanvalou and the complex Creole songs.



Jerzy Grotowski 177

In the essay "Performer," Grotowski defines ritual as "performance, an accomplished action, an act" (1988:36). Robart's performance structure beautifully illustrated ritual in this sense. Constructing a story using song and simple activities, Robart became the leader/participant of an unpre- tentious funeral rite. No attempt was made to pretend that the student- participants were Haitian villagers or experts in the material; rather, they appeared as themselves, or nearly so-apprentices following the lead of a trained practitioner. The story of the overall action was clear, and the purpose of each component unambiguous. Objects were few (a white sheet, a suit of black clothing, items which would be needed by the dead man in the next world) and were selected for their pragmatic, literal function, rather than to trigger emotional connotations. The action was performed in full, direct lighting, and bore no trace of the cliches of so-called ritual performance or corrupted voudoun. No one, including Robart, experienced ecstatic trance.

THE SHAKER STRUCTURE

The most exciting discovery of the session, in Grotowski's view, arrived by means of our work with Shaker songs. He recognized and responded to the group's particular regard for these songs and acknowledged the value of these songs as traditional material, grown out of American soil and rooted in an Anglo-Protestant cultural heritage. Clearly, the Shaker songs held rich potential in terms of yantra and organon. Grotowski proposed that we develop some sort of narrative structure as a framework for these songs, concentrating attention on this as the main work of the seminar.

The narrative frame, Grotowski advised, should be a simple, easily understood tale with minimal subtext. Ideally, we should find some story which would highlight the contrast between the Shaker way of life, drinking from the deep well of tradition, and the shallow sterility of modern culture. Perhaps we could be travelers, he suggested, who discover a barn once used by Shakers and sleep there for a night. While there we might find some traces of those who had erected the building and used it for their worship. Ultimately, this was the story we chose.

Our first rendering, of which developed this tourist premise through improvised dialog, triggered Grotowski's assertion that nothing good can come from improvisation. The text must be written, he advised. He suggested that we find an American equivalent to Ionesco, some master- ful construction of contentless speech. Failing this, Slowiak and I com- piled several pages of "Stupid American Dialog" culled from plays by David Rabe, David Mamet, and Lanford Wilson.

Once we had prepared the text, Grotowski began around-the-table work with a meticulousness alien to an American sensibility. In our society's traditional rehearsal process, an actor is judged to be doing capable work if s/he can read the text in a manner which passes for natural speech. Grotowski found this insufficient. You must know what you are saying, he insisted, you must have some understanding of the text. Action must not illustrate dialog. Most frequently, a character's words disguise intentions, or else communicate meaning on multiple-levels. It would be wrong to assume that a line such as "Where's the bathroom?" (the opening line of the montage) refers only to a character's desire to exercise natural functions. Grotowski worked with the actor who delivered this line, suggesting that perhaps "bathroom" represented for her a place of



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sanctuary, a refuge from her intrusive companions. In her own mind then, perhaps the word "bathroom" should be substituted with "libera- tion" or some other grand, romantic conception of freedom. Grotowski insisted that the actor repeat the line, using a variety of images, until he as spectator could recognize the magnitude of this association for her character. The same process was repeated for each fragment of text. Once participants began to discover the potential actions within their text, Gro- towski shifted emphasis to creating relationships among characters. Here as well, he refused to settle for passive or ambiguous intentions. Each line was repeated until intentions were clear both for actor and observer. At the end of three hours, we had progressed through less than a page of text.

Of the Shaker songs selected, several had movement patterns which Grotowski judged workable. For the remaining songs, we attempted to discover appropriate structures of movement. After several days' work, the number of songs was reduced from five to three to allow for adequate development.

The performance opened with the group of actors noisily entering the abandoned barn. One voice rose above another as each struggled to erect some verbal shield against the unfamiliar situation. "We gotta spend the night here?" one woman whined. "In the morning we can fix the bus," her companion reassured. "Who's gonna fix it," another screeched, "Gomer Pyle?" "What's that noise?" a woman asked, frightened by brief silence. "The wind under the door," her friend replied. Engaged in the meaningless rituals of their daily lives, the travelers for a time drowned out the quiet voices echoing within the ancient walls.

As the others settled down to sleep, one woman, unnoticed by her companions, paused in the center of the room. "Oh the . . . happy journey ...," she whispered a broken fragment of melody. Slowly, tentatively, she explored the distant echo of a song, one phrase of which seemed to emanate from a high window, another from a wall, the next from a point near the floor. Another traveler, curious, moved to join her and together they discovered the remainder of the song. "Let all be awakened and up and be doing/That we may attain to our destined home." After a time a pair of women began marching briskly in a clock- wise circle along the periphery of the space. Others joined, until all the women moved as a single unit, circling the men who turned with a precise marching step at the center. As the song built in strength, the brittle personae of the travelers crumbled away, revealing quiet figures who moved with a serene, ordered purpose-the Shakers who had come to inhabit their bodies.

The singers stopped in response to a signal from one leader. Confused and somewhat embarrassed, they stared at one another, hurriedly at- tempting to reconstruct the masks of their daily lives. Each mechanically repeated the words and actions of the opening sequence. Suddenly a man's clear voice cut forcefully through the din. "I will roar, roar, roar," he sang, the power of the melody transforming him into a resolute war- rior. "Ye and I'll howl, howl, howl in my fury sayeth the Lord!" He began to run in a spiraling motion through the room. Others fell in behind him, following as he led them into an ever tightening spiral, then turned and signaled to a second leader at the far end of the line. Song and action continued until a climax was reached, at which point the first leader silently commanded his warriors to stop. Immediately, a Shaker woman began another song, this one clearly recognized by other mem-



Jerzy Grotowski I79

bers of the group. "Come life, Shaker life, come life eternal," she sang, directing her words to the leader of the previous action. "Shake, shake out of me all that is carnal." The man responded as if compelled by her words, dancing in such a way as to cast off the bonds of sensuality which tied him to the transience of mortal life. The remaining Shakers quietly formed a chorus in one corer of the room, offering their song in support for their Brother's attempt at transcendence.

When the action had finished, the Shakers stood reflectively in their places. After a time, one woman responded, uncomprehendingly, to the echo of a distant voice. "Where's the . . . bathroom?" she asked, looking questioningly to the Sister by her side. "They got ... a bathroom?" a Shaker Brother replied, moving to find the source of the sound. In this manner the Shakers rediscovered the personae of the tourists, slowly dissolving in the habits of daily interaction. Someone announced that it was morning, time to go. The travelers gathered their belongings and resumed their previous patterns of relationship. As they left they were gentler, more subdued, slightly changed by their encounter with another people and another way of life.

Conclusions and Synthesis Richard Schechner, in a discussion of Objective Drama which dates

from the earliest phase of the work, suggests that this research might "synthesize Grotowski's multifaceted career-poor theater, paratheater, theater of sources-into something that includes a reintegrative phase" (I985:106). Schechner voices misgivings regarding earlier stages of Gro- towski's research, in which the participant goes through the separation or breakdown phase of initiation, but is "not then 'reconstructed,' either by being integrated into a society or by being given specific roles to play in a performance" (255). Objective Drama, however, with its emphasis on the technical/performative aspect of traditional material and techniques, "supplies the constructive reintegrative phase of the process" (257).

Clearly the work of Objective Drama, as evidenced both by Robart's and Slowiak's lines of research, focuses on instructing the participant in the pragmatic skills of the actor's craft. Participants are taught various forms of singing and dance, as well as an approach for constructing performance which owes much to Stanislavski's Method of Physical Actions. Such skills are immediately applicable to the art and practice of theatre production. Any transference of the specific ritual material of Objective Drama, as for example employing the authentic yanvalou as a decorative element in a commercial production, would, however, be disastrous. Grotowski's approach to traditional performative material is neither can- nibalistic nor syncretistic. By examining and comparing disparate elements of individual cultures' performative techniques, Grotowski seeks to discover certain irreducible common elements.

Grotowski insists that Objective Drama cannot be understood as a continuation of Theatre of Sources. It is perhaps more appropriate to view this project in terms of a dialectic with Theatre of Participation and Theatre of Sources work. Grotowski's development, which has progressed in spiral rather than linear form, has returned to an emphasis on technical/performative aspects of craft. To anticipate that this would lead Grotowski himself once more toward the arena of public production would, however, be most unlikely. "People were still asking the same



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question after 20 years," Slowiak sighed, describing a lecture/conference held in Irvine in I988. "'When are you going back to doing performances?"' Slowiak paraphrased Grotowski's response as a denial that such an event would ever occur.

On various occasions, Grotowski has stated that he is in a stage of life in which he finds it appropriate to concentrate on sharing with artists of a younger generation the skills and knowledge resulting from his many years of research. The work of Objective Drama is, in some sense, most concerned with the training of leaders/technical specialists, persons with developed skills and areas of expertise who enter into long-term appren- ticeship with Grotowski. Such leaders work directly with novice participants, preparing structures which are then presented to Grotowski for analysis. In addition to the feedback received during group sessions, Gro- towski works extensively with each leader through one-on-one consulta- tion. Many group leaders eventually go on to pursue independent careers in theatre. When asked what precisely he felt Grotowski endeavors to teach, Slowiak's response was simple and direct: "The skill of doing something well, not to be amateur, as most of us in this country have become."

Note

i. James Slowiak has worked as an assistant to Jerzy Grotowski since 1983, both in California and in Italy. He has directed over 30 stage productions in Europe and America, and was the artistic producing director of At Random Theatre in St. Paul, Minnesota. He is currently Assistant Professor of Theatre Arts at the University of Akron.

References

Cohen, Robert I984 "Research and Development Report." Unpublished manuscript, Univer-

sity of California-Irvine.

Grotowski, Jerzy 1975 [1968] Towards a Poor Theatre. New York: Methuen. 1987 "Tu es lefils de quelqu'un." The Drama Review 31, no. 3 (TII5):30-4I. 1988 "Performer." In Workcenter ofJerzy Grotowski, 36-4I. Pontedera, Italy:

Centro per la Sperimentazione e la Ricerca Teatrale. Privately distributed pamphlet.

Schechner, Richard I985 Between Theater and Anthropology. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylva-

nia Press.

Toporkov, Vasily Osipovich 1979 Stanislavski in Rehearsal. Translated by Christine Edwards. New York:

Theatre Arts Books.

Lisa Wolford is an MFA candidate in dramaturgy at the University of California-San Diego.



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