Performance: Critical Concepts in Literary and Cultural Studies Vol 1

leuels of Aud ie nce Par t icip a ríon

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stallls v i pcrfonllcl is t.:0 11 Ii:rn.:d 1111 ;111 pa rti¡,;ipants. The q ueslioll 01' wlw is tlll' pc rl'o rlllcr anu wlw is Iltc alldit~IICC b moo t; a ny díslint.:tion bClwccn perfo rm ance evcn t and "rea l lire" would be mea ningless, without referent.+1 AIl pa rtici pa nts beco me perfo rmers within a spccch communi ty, governed by prcvailing social, poli tieéll, and ethical norms, T he social community al one sanctions va lue in a given perform ancc. Impli cit in a move from inacti vc to proac1ive levels of pa rt icipation are a number of issues. Fin;t. questions ofpower mise when decidi ng who (performer and/or audience) m ay be given (or denicd) the right to in itiate an aesthetic inter­ action. A performer's license lo initiate within a social comm lln ity requires enculturation and social privilege but m ay nol req uire specialized artistic t rain­ ing. Second, q uesti ons of a.ccountability arise when assigning vmying degrees ofresponsibility for artistic achievement to perforrncrs ami audiences. On the one hand , an artistic event may be viewed as the artist's monolog ue; on the other hand , an aesthetic discourse m ay be seen as a d ialogue emerging from a l1 participants within the cvent. Third, q uestions o f eVéllua tion derive fro m the differences belween communal and expert standards. W hat may be sane­ tioned within the special world of artists by their own elite a uthority may not find general support within a given community. By denying special privilege among competing critica I vo iees, several important implications follow. First, egual status is given to each audience member's perccptions. Rejecting the notion that on ly an educated elite is empowered to valida te artistic expcrience liberales aesthetic comrn unicalio n. Seco nd, rejecting priviJeged voices a lters traditional cri tical vaJues. Em ­ powering audience members to cn~ ate texts b y their part icipa tíon makes ma in ­ taining the autonomy of a preset tcxt in performance a troublesome norm . Communal aesthctic standards ma y not al ways coincide with inherited arti stic values. The performance studies practitioner must exercise ethical caution in imposing traditional performance conventions on cultural definitions of theatricality. Thc burden for the performance studies practitioner is to find new critical vocabulary that is sensitive to the interactive and proactive audiences and to take into account different aesthe tic norm s, al1 carrying cultural, political, and ethieal values. Perjormallce studÚ!s alld oral ulterpretatioll

The preccding discllssion has pres umed a disciplinary identity for " perform­ ance studies" and has asserted definitional parameters_. The ascribed domain 01' performance studies- the practice of aesthettc communication- accepts a dynamie descripti on oí' aesthetic in teraction demélnding only that definition al rcs po nsibility he borne by perfo rmer or audicnce, T he fleld 's proced ural ImHoco! ma nda tes participat io n. C haracteristie orientations of perform ance s tuuics inelud e a nonca non il',, 1 attitl.lde toward texts and an inclusi onary il11p ll lsl' lowürd p\!r t'ormcrs il ll ~ 1 jllld icl1ccs. By granting paradigmatic status l ·j ",

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lo performance slull ies. Lhe Ll iscussion lhu s tal' has Ilskcu Ihe lab\:! 01" "rnani festo:' a p urposeflll cho ice cakul~11CÚ lo bri ug iss ue:i lo lhe rore aud to acknowledge lhe politicaJ potency of definili ona l questions. To m ake this hypothetical case, we have su rveyed ap plicable fe::;ea n.:h under lhe head ings "event," "text," "performer," and "a lldience," often im posing performance studies identity on sch olars who wo uld more ch aracteristi cally daim the labels of oral in terpretation, thealrc, in terperso nal comm unication, fo lk lore, anth ro po logy, o r popular culture. We now ret llrn to lhe q uestion posed at the outset: Is " performance studies" in relati on lo " oral interpretation" an insta nce of magical renam ing, él slage of evol utionary development, a revisiorust reading. or a revoluti onary denía l? To answer the q uestion , we hold up the cJaims asserted by our hypothet ical case aga inst a read ing of modern inter­ pretation praclice. We believe that the defining üharacteristics of a performance studies model ha ve antecedents in the traditionaJ study an d practice of oral interpretation. Some themes are sounded c1early wh ile others are mere fragments, sugges­ tions, or potentialities in the prio r schema. A noncanonical attitudc toward texts runs counter to the standard pr iv­ iJege accorded to Iitera ry masterpieces by ora l in terpretation. To U,e extent that oral interpreta lion has accepted an inheritance of canonical autho rity, it has sanctioned, wittingly or unwittingly, an exc1usionary agenda. It is import­ ant to remember, bowever, that modern inter pretation practice and theory ha ve not adhered exc1usively to ca oonical texts. Anthologies withi n interpre­ tali on textbooks have often moved beyond Iiterary masterpieces in poetry, prose, aod drama to embrace texts by minority voices and nonfiction genres. 45 Nevertheless, movement beyond canonical texts and a uthors within modern interpretation practice has been slow and hesitant; performam:e studies aoeelerates that momentull1. The inclusionary impulse toward performers and audiences characteristic of performance studies deri ves from a recognition of the benefits typicaUy associated with the performing artist's role. 46 However, the expanded concep­ tions mandated by a performance studies model permit and encourage per­ former roles in additi on lo th ar of"artist," thereby expanding also convention al definitions of audielJce and event. New contexts aud new p urposes for the performance event have stretched defini tion al limits. 47 Hence, the move to performance studies institutionalizes what oral inte rpreta tion sanctioned as experimentation. A shift from "oral interpretation " to " performance studies" ;s an instance of magical rena ming. Tha! is , the new name alone opens doors . Whi le posi­ tioned squarel y wilhin the fi eld of speech communication , "performa nce stlldics" suggests c1ear Ii nks lo thealre. eth nography a nd fo lklore, popular culture, amI co ntem porary literary cri ticism o I-Iowever, lhe new I1 Qmenc1a l­ lI rc i¡.¡ hard ly ,ubi tr<.Iry or merccna ry; it is justilicd by Ihe long (,;voluticmal'y ucvulopmc nt n I" oral inlcrrrcLation. T ha l rcdh rn lallt"ll ~t\ldil:~ is a Ilat ura l '} 6

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ph as\.: ill uis¡;jplillary uCVd Op1llC1I1 IS ru a lli fcsl by I he cOll tcI1lpo ra ry rcsca rch )1ushing out the c\ll1 vcn ti\IIWllirn ils 01' o n ll interpret¡llion. T o recom­ ll1e nd re rforlllunce studies as an cvolution ary slage demands a certa in rev;­ $i()nisl rcading of lhe history 01' oral interpretation. T hat is, the comm unal impulse actualized by performance studies was always presen t potentially in oral in tC'fpretation , even in the rich era when New C riticism held sway, but was kept in check by canonical authority a nd art istic conven tion s. Pe rfonn­ anee studies, thus, is an aet of magical renam ing, a sta ge of evo lutionary developmen l, and a rev isio ni st read ing. But does lhe narne cha nge point to a paradigm shift? It is too early to sa yo More time is req uired to see whether eros s­ disciplinary Iio ks becorne institutionalized by cooperalive research and t heory construction . More time is req uired to test the possi bi lities and Jimi ts o f performance as a researeh meth odology a nd as a n epistemological metaphor. What may be said with certainty is that this paradigm shift, ir such it is , is nol a revol utionary denial of oral interpretation as the a ntecedenl schema. Rather, the new nomendature affirms the study and performance 01' IiteTal)' texts as central to , but 110t lim iting, its theory and methodology. r-Icnce, the paradigmatic relationship between oral in terpretati on and performance studies might display the performance of lite rature as the centra l eirde in a concentric figu re widen ing outwar d to indude social dramas, rituals, story­ telling. jokes, organizational metaphors, everyday conversations, indeed any cornm un ica tion act meeti ng the criteria of aesthetic discourse. Ih lLI~lti

Notes ROl1ald J. P e!ias ami Jame.\' Val10os/il1g are (lssociale pro/i:ssors (~('peljá rman (.'e st udies in ¡he Deparlmenl o( Sp eech COIl1 /1/I/II;C(lliol1 . Sou ¡hern llIino;s Univers;r y al CarhOlldale.

Whilc there is still considerable debate within the field concerning the best discipli ­ nary label , a num be r of sch o lars a re presently ad voca ting "performance studies." ln sorne cases, the argument has had such persuasive fo rce as to lead to depart­ men tal (Northwestern University) and a rea (Sou,t hern 1I1inois U niversity) na me changes. W hile the d eba te about the disciplinary label has yet to rece ive a ny d is­ cussion in prin t, several papcrs presented at lhe 1986 " T he F uture of Inte rpreta­ tion" confe rence held in Salado, Texas raised the issue. Informally , co nve rsations about the best diseiplinary title ca n be heard at acauemic conventions and at various uni versities through ou t the nati o n. The issue is far from settled. 2 Jil1 TaftcKaufman, " Oral Interpreta tion : Twcnticth-Century Theo ry ano Prac­ ticc. " in Speech Commul1iCalio/l ;/1 lhe 20 /17 C('mur)', eJ . Thomas W. Benso n (Carbonda le: Southern I1linois Universit)' Press, 1985), 157. 1 Paul N. Campbcll, '"Cotlltllunil:ation Aesthetics," TmJay's S'peech 19 (1971): 7- 18 ano " Perform a nce: Thc Pu rsuit of Fl)lI y." Speech Teac!Jer 20 ( 197 1): 263 ·-274. 4 CampbelL " ('oJTl m u n i c~lt ion Aesthetics," 9. 5 .I 0hl1 M. E l1 i ~ . nI<' TI":(lr.\' uf" U I¡;ra/,p Cr i/ici.wn: A Logical Analysis (Berk eley: l! ni vc rs il y pr C :i1il''' 111 1:1 P rc~~ . 1(74 ). h Lec T. LC II IO II IIt td M ll li llll I Ih'IN. \:ds. ami tra ns., Rus.I'iart Formalist Crilicism (1 ill l"I1111" t llliv\:r~ i l y ,, 1 N t' f¡1. P , "" I'I \· ~ \ . I')h 5 ) · (, l e¡¡ nlh Hrol1ks, n l C' WeI/ W ro ug/¡r ,)

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il/ ti", ,'ÚrtI('III/'" 0(1'0"11'1 ' ( N..:W Y(nk : II,III:I>LII I & Ur;¡ ~c , 1')47 ); ,I v li 11 r(l WC Ransolll , 'nl<' Ne ll' Crilici.\'1I1 (N\lI"walk , t r.: Nuw I)IICl:I IOIIS, 11)4 1); A lk:n T'lle., O" lhe L imilS oI POC!!)" 5;elc("(.il{/ BS'\"ays 1')28 / 1J48 «()enve r: SWall ol\' 1948); and R . S . Creme, eel .. Crilics (//7(1 Crilicisnl: Ancien l llI1d !v1oc!ern (Chicago: Ll niversil)' o f C hicago P ress, 1952). 7 R ichard Ba uma n , Ver/)(II Art I/.} Perlórl/l(lnce (Xowley, MA: New bury Ilouse, 1(77). 8 fuvillg Goffrn an , Frame Analysis (N ew Y ork: Harper C olo p hon , 1974) and G regory Bateso n. Sl ep,~ lO 0/1 Ecolo,!!,y (JI MilJd (New York : Ballan ti nc, 1972). 9 F or example, see Roman Ingarden, The c 'ognilio/l I!('lhe L ilerary Work I~/Art , t ranso R ulh A nn C rowley & Kennet h R . Obon (Evanslon: No rthwestern Unj vers it y P ress, 1973); Wolfga nl Iser, The Acl oI Reading: A Th eory 01 Aeslhelic Resp onse ( Baltimore : J o hns Ho pkins U niversily Press. 1978). 10 Slanloy Deetz, "Respo nse: T he Politics of the O ral Inte rpretation of Lileralure ," In "Symposium: Post-Slructuralism and Perfo rm ance," Lilerature i/l Perfimmmte 4 (November 198 3): 60. 11 The notion thal performance i~ neve r " free anu easy" is best developed in R ich ard Schechner, B elWecn Th('(llre & AnlhroJiology (Phil ade lphia: U niversity of Pennsyl­ vanja Press, 1985), esp. Chapter 3. 12 For an interesting uiscussion of how one scholar m akcs the case, see Bauman , Verbal ArI ClS Peljórmance. 13 D wigh t C onque rgo od , " Pe rforming as a M ora l Act: Ethica l D irnensions 01' the E thnograph y of Pe rformance," Literalure i/1 Pelformall ce 5 (Ap ril 1985): 2 14 F or example , see Mary Louise Pratt, Towllrd 11 Speech A cl Theo ry oI Lilerar)' Discourse (Bloom inglon : rndiana lJ niversit)' Press, 1977); Paul Hernadi, ed .. Whal Is LileraLUrer (B loom ingto n: Indiana Unive rsit y Press, 1978); a nd M . M . Bakh l in, T he Dialogic Tmaginalioll , transo Caryl Emcrson & Michacl Ho lquist (Austin: U oive rsity o('Texas Press, 1981). 15 Keuneth Bu rke , A Grammar of Mo lives (New York : Prenlice- Hall , 1945); Eliza­ belh Burns, Thealricali/y: A Swdy (1" CO/1 venlion in lhe Theatre al1d ;11 Social Li/e (London: Longman, 1972): Erving Goffman , The Presentalion oISe((in E vcryduy Life (Garden City, N.Y.: Do ubleday Anchor Books, 1959); Richard Schechner a nu Ma dy Schurnan, eds" R ilual, Play, ({/'Id Performance: Rcadings in lh e Social SciellceslTheatre (New York: Seabury Press, 1976); Victor Turner, Tile Ritual Process: S lruClure al1l/ Anli-slruClllre (C hicago: Al dine Publishing, 1969); [)ramas, Fie/d.\". al1l/ M ewphor.l: Symf¡olic AClio!1 in Human Soc ie/y (Ithaca: Corncll Univer­ sity Press, 1974); amI From Rilual (() Thmlre: The Humlln Seriousness of Play (New York: Perfo rming Arts Journal Publications, 1982). 16 T urner, Dramas, Fields, (ll1d Melaphors. 17 Pe ni.nnah Schram , "One Generalion Tells Another: T he T raosmission of Jewish Values Through Slorytelling," Li/era/ure in Perjúr/11al1ce 4 (April 1984): 44. 18 Pamela Cook M iller. " Listen lo Ihe Ancients:' Lileralure i/1 Per/imnan ce 5 (No­ vember 1984): 29- 39; and Madeline Keaveney, " H umor in Navajo Coyote Tales," in Proceedings (~(S'el11ina rI Con(erencc: (i1J Oral TmdiliOl1s , eds. Isabel M_ Crouch & GorUOD R_ Owcn (Las C ruces: N ew Mexico State University, 1983),44- 57, 19 Dwighl Conquergood, "Literalure, Perfo rmance, and Oral Traditions," Com­ l11unicalion: The JOl/rnal (JIlhe COl11l11l1fútatiO/1 Associalion o/Ihe Pocific 11 (J une 1982): 27 ·33; E li zabeth C. Fine ami Jean Ilaskcll Spcer, " Beyonu the QUélinl é1nd Curious: Folklo re Rescarch in Appalachia " (P a per presented al th e Appalachi a n Studies C onfc rence, Pipestem, West Virginia, 1(83) ; and Bri,lIl Ru~ tc d , ''' ) Scc In Your Mi lld ': Nar rati ve Performa nce A lllo ng C hicago Rcade r-t\ dvisf,)rs," in Proceedings of Seminllr/ Col1/erel/('(' on 0 1"111 Timl¡lio/l.\. cd~ . J:.;;lbc l M . C r\lud l & Gord o n R . Owen (La s C ruces: Ncw Mexlco Slillc Iln ivclsi lY , 1<)l\.1 ), 122 117 .

SI!(! Ed wi ll ('phulI. " ' lIe Ro le (Ir l he Inlnpre te r in lúcntil"ying llw 'o nccpt 01" ' F olk'," W(' s/CI"I/ ,)'(I('('('f¡ JOII/'/wl 38 (1974): 170 175; E1i zabct h ('. Fine ami .lea n Ilélskell S pecr, "A Ne w Loo k él! pe rforma nce." COl/llIlUnicaliol1 lv!0I10­ g roJ1/¡s 44 (1977): 374- 389; and Jea n Has keU S pcer, "Fol k./orc an d I nterpretation: Syrn biosis." Sou lhe/'/1 Speech C0l111111./11icotiol1 Jo urna/40 (1975): 365- 376, 21 Betsy Bowuen, " Performcd Litcra turc: A C asc Stud y of Bob Dylan 's ' Haro Ra in '," ir(Jra lurc in P er/úrrt1ol1ce 3 (Novem ber 1982): 35.- 48 . 22 Elí za beth C. F inc, 7/1l' fi¡/Idore Texl: From Peljimnonce lO Pri!11 (B loomington: Ind iana U ni versit y Press, 1984). 23 D ick H iggillS, "Early So uod Poet ry ,-' Lileralure in Performance 5 (April 1985): 42- 48. 24 Elizabeth Bell , "Contempol"ary AJrica n Li teratu re: T he Explo ration an d Ex peri­ ence MOral T rad ition ," in Proceeding,l' ofSemillarICo/1/erence on Oral Tradili¡)/Is, eds. Isabe l M . C ro uch & G ordo n R . Owen (Las Cruces, New M exico : New M exico State U ni versit y, 1983), 138- j 47. 25 F or example, see Phillis R ieostra. " R esurrecting the Past: Historicéll D oc uments as Ma terials for R cadersThcatre. " Sp eech Teacher21 (1972): 310- 314; M a ri o l1 L. Kleilla u and Jane t Larsen M c H ughes, The(lfre% \' ¡ór LilerGlure (S he rmCln Oa ks: Alfred , 1980); and Ga il M iller. " Sc ripting Oral Ilistory: A n Exa mjo ation o f Structural D iffere nces Belween Oral an a W ritteo Na rralives ." in Proceedings (J/ Selll inlJrl Col1ference on O ral Tradi lions, eds, Isa bel M . Crouch & Go rdon R . Owen (Las C r uces, Ncw Mexico: N ew Mexico State U niversil y, 1983). 163- 172. 26 KJeinau and Mc ll ughes. 27 R ichard Schechner, Essays O/j P eljórman ce Thcory: / 970 /976 (N ew York: Drama Book Specialists. 1977). 28 F or eXélmple, see Paul W atzlawick, Janet H elmjck Beavin a nd Do n D, Jacksoll , Pragmalics of Human Comrnunica!ion: A Sludy l nreraclio!1al Pallerns., Pal/¡­ ologics, ol1d POl'ado xes (N ew York: W. W , Norton , 1967); Sta nford M . Lym a.n and M arvin B. Scott, T/¡e DI"III'I1(/ o( S ocLal Realily (New Y o r k: Ox fo rd U ni versit y Press, 1975); a nd Law rcllce W, Hugenberg and M a rk J. Schaefermeye r, "Solilo­ quy as Self-Disclosure," QlIarler/y Journal oI Speech 69 (1983): 180 - 189. 29 For cxample, see James Va nOosting, "The Use of lmagillative Litcrature for ComlTIunication Theory Co nslruction : Some Prccaulions," Quarter/y JOllrnal o/ Speech 71 (1985): 218- 226; anu W aller Ulrich , ''The Use o f F iction as a Source of Infol1natron about Interpe rsonal COlTImunication: A C ritical View," CO/llmlll1ico­ lion Quarlerly 34 (1986): 143 - 153. JO Fine, T/¡e Folklore TeXI. 31 Bertolt Brecht, Bree/JI !in T helllre, t ranso John W illetl (New York: Hill & Wang, 1964) ; J erzy Grotowski , TOlvards a POOl' Thelllre (Ne w York: Simon & Sch usler, 19(8); M argarel Cfoyden, L urllllics, L overs (lnd PoelS: Tite Con lell1porary E xperi­ m enlal Thealre (Nc w York: McGraw- H ill, 1974); Pierr'e Biner, The Living T heatre (N ew York : Horizo n Press, 1972); Peter Brook , The Emply Space INew York: AVOll, 19(8); and R ichard Schechner, Environll1enlal T/¡ealre (New Y ork: Ha w­ thorn , 1973). 32 For a more extcn~ive discussion 01' emergell ~ dcfinit,i ons 01' theatrical events, sec Schechner. HellVeel1 T/¡ealre & AI1I/¡ropology. .1 j Finc Clnd Speer, "A New Look al Performance," 375. -'4 G e rry Philipscn , "S peaking 'Like aM a n' ill Teamste rvi lle: Culture Patterns of Ro le En.a e tmc nt in a n Urban Neighborhood ," Quartcrly JOllrnal 01 Speech 61 11 ( 75): 11 22 . .1 5 T hu n lltlll 0: 11"111: 1' " Pla ying Ihe f)ozc ns: Folklore as Slralegies for Living," Quar­ I,"'/¡ ' .ful/rllol o/ S{I.·,·, ·/¡ e,'> (1'»';'\): 4¡.) .

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:l(J L)wighr C\JIIl( ucrgl" Jd , " Uo!ls tin g ill A n ~ I .. -S:IJ\p n Engla nd : PcrrOrIlI:lIII.:1: ólltd t hl: Hc ro ic E th()~: ' L i/a(//ure iu P('ljí m IlO I/ (,( ' 1 (Ap ril 198 1): 24 - 35: a mi W illia rll K irkwood , "StorytclLillg and Sclr..l'o nrm ntat ion : Panlble~ as Com rnunicilti qn St rategies:' Quar/er/y .!ourt/1I1 (JI' SpcccJ¡ 69 ( 19~3): 58 ·.. 74. 37 R ichard Schechner. Tite EI/d oIHlllnalli.\·/I/: Wrilil1gs 011 Per/órl/1(/l1ce (New York : Pcrforming A rts Journal Publications, 1982), 50- 5 1. 38 K a thryn Carter, "A Phen omenology of Femini~t Thcatre and Criticism" (P h.D diss., So uthern [lIinois U ni ve rsity, 1985), 51. 39 Kay Ellen Capo , "Fro m Academic to SociéLi .. Political Uses of Perform a nce. " ¡JI Peljórman ce (JI Ule ra/w'e in HislOrica/ PI'/'I'pel'lil'e.I', ed. Da vid W. I'ho mpsoll ( Lanham. M D : U niversity Press of Ame rica. 1983),453. 40 C onquergood. " Pe rfonn.i ng a~ él Mo ral Act.'· 41 Kristin M. Langellier, " F rom Tex t to Social Context ," Lileralure in Pnjórmallce 6 (ApriI1985):60- 70. 42 For example, see Victor Turne r. " Dra rna tic Ritu a l/ R itual Dra ma: Pe rformalive and Reflexive A nthropology," Kenyol7 RevieIV 1 (S ummer 1( 79): 80- 93; T umer. h om RilUlI//o 1I1ealre, D wight Co~quergood, '''A Se nse oftheOther': In terprela ­ tion and Ethnographic Resea rc h," in Pro céedings oI SeminarlConference 011 Ora! Tradiliol7s, eds. Isabel M . C rouch & G ordon R . Owen (Las C ruces. New Mex ico : N ew Mexico State U niversity, 1983), 148- 155; and Conquergood, "Communica tion and Pe rfo rman ce: Dra lllaturgical Dimensions of Everyday Life." in Tire Jellsen Lec/ures: C0I1Iempo/'(/ry (.'ollll1lul7l.l'II/io/1 8/udies, ed . Jo hn Siseo (Tampa: Un ive r.. sity ofSouth Florida, 1983) , 24--43. 43 Conquergood , "'A Sense of the Olher'," 154. 44 Scc Schechner, Belweell Thea/ re & An/hropo/ug)' for an interesting discu ssion 01' how Squat T heatTe calls into questioll the relationship betwcen " rea l life" and theatre, 302- 308. 45 For example, see WaJl ace A . Bacon and R obert S. Breen , eds .. Lileralure jfn' Inlerprelatioll (New Yo rk: Holt , R inehart & Winston, 19(1); JOélnna H . Ma.c1ay and T holll élS O . Sl oa n, IIl/ erprela/ iOIl: An Appro(/c/¡ /0 Ihe Sludy o/ UleralllfC (New Y ork: Rand om H o use. 1972); and Beverly W hitaker Long and Mary Francc~ Hop K in s, PerfiJl'/l'Iing Lilewlure: An /¡rlrodu u ioll /o Ora/ln lerpreta /ion (Englewood liffs , NJ: P rentice .. Hall , 1982). 46 By choosing to enact the performing a rtist's role, it is generall y argued th at ,111 actor bcnefits in terms of experientiallearning, cogniti ve development. therapeuti c insights, a nd intercultural understandin g. For \York addressing ex periential learn .. ing, see Wallace A. Bacon and Robert S. Breen . Lilera/tlre as Experiel1ce (N e\V York: McGraw.. H ill , 1959); SllIart J . Kaplan a nd G. P. Mohrlllann , " Rea der. Text, A udience: Oral In te rp retation é1nd Cog nitive T uning," Quarlerly Jouma/ of Speec/¡ 63 (1977): 59 - 65; and G. P. Mohrmann and Stuart J. Ka plan , "The Efrccts ofTraining on the Oral Interpreter's Perceptions of a Text," Cen/ra/ Slale.\' SpfcdJ J ourna/ 31 (1980): 137-.. 142. Po r work on cognitive development. see Ma rjorie McGrego r. "Cognitive Development Thro ugh Crea ti ve D ram atics," ,S¡Jeecll Teac!JC'r 22 (19 73): 220- 225; and Ronald J. Pelias, "Oral Interpretation as a T ra in ing Method for Increasing Perspective .. takin g Abilities," Co/'nmunicalio/'l Educa/io/l 33 (1984): 143 1S1. For \York cOllccrning therapelltic in~i ghb , see Lelan u " . Rolofr, "Literary M odes in the Anal ytic Setting," T/¡ e A 1'/.1' in Ps),c/¡o//¡ erap \' 1() (Fall 1983): 151 .. 156 and "Pe rfo rmer, Perfo rming. Performance : To ward a Psy.. cho logica lizat io n 01' Theory," U/('/'(I/ur!! in Per/im!/(I/II'l' .\ (April 1()83): 13 24 anJ David A . W il1ram s. "F ro m Academia 10 P>y~ h o .. S\ll;l;r 1 t I ~cs ol'l. iteraturc," in Pt'lj árll /(I//('(' (JI' Uterolll!'e i/l /{is/o/'im! I'I'I'.\·/I;·I'/i 1'1'.\' cd f) lI vid W . Thom psllIl ( Lallh a lll . MI): I h ri vc rsil y Pr~' ~s 0 1' I\l1Icrica. I')X 1), 11') 1 \~ 1 m work 011

intcr'\'Irltllral lI lIlle rsl:llrdi ng. SI'!: .lean 11. Spec r. "C ulture ('ontae! T h mug h I'crfol'llr ancc, " Spct'('/¡ J'i'tlI'IIN 24 (1975): 209 2 10; K. 8 . Va lcn tine a nJ D . 1:.. Va lcn ti llc , " r aci li ta lion 01' In tercultunrl C'Ollllll un icHtioll T hro ugh Performed l .ilcra ture." (.'O/lllllllll if alio/1 Edu('(/!ioIl32 (1 98 3): 303- 307; and Ea rl M. W a~hing .. ton , "Black Intcrpretation, Black America n Literature, and G rey Audiences," 'ommrmica /io/l l:'du('(//iol7 30 (1981): 209- 21 ú. For work that explores alte mat ive relat io n ~ hips betweell pcrforming artist and a udience, see E ric E. Pcterson. "Introduction." In "Symposi um: The Aud ience in Inte rpretation T hlo!o r y," Lilera.. lure in Peljimnallcf' 3 (Ap riJ 1983): 33; Kristi n M . Langellier, ., A Phenomenologica 1 A pproach to Audicnce." U/ era/ure in Pe/jorman ce 3 (Apri l 1983): 34- 39; and Robert B. Loxley, " R o les 01' the A udience: Aesthetic and Soci al Dimensions o f the Performance Event," Lilera/l/re in PC'ljilrl1'lancf' 3 (April 1983): 40- 44. 47 See Langellier, "From Tex t to Social Contexl. "

. iIl

I!H

o.

1!t)IU I/I{MANI 1': S'I"I'IIIII'I AS WOMI N'~ WIJRK

14

P ERF O RM A NCE STUDIES

A S WOM EN' S WORK

Historical sights/sites/citations from the margin Elizabeth Bell Sourc.:c: 7i'xI Ul1d Per(ormallce Quurlerly 11(4) (1 IN."!) : 350 :174.

C onstr uct ing a consciousness of thc presence and abscncc 01' sex ual difference in performance studies manda tes a new story 01' performance as women's work. T his construction moves wo men from the periphery of performance history to thc center, problcrn­ atizes the prescnce and performances of lVomen in the past, and interroga tes the politics o f oral inte rpretation tcxtbooks ' ge nder neutrality . T he sighl ofthe firs t actresslreaders on the A me rican platforrn , the sitc of speech education in priva te acadernies in turn-of-tbe-century America, and oral interpreta úon's citations. metaph orical atternpts at "'writing the body," are cultural. histor­ ical , amllinguistic textual spaces 01' re presentati on and identity. T hese ncutered , condemned , and policed spaces 01' display for women are routes to the rna rbri n or the cornmunication discipline.

Womcn must write through their bodies, they must invent the im­ pregnable language that will wreck partitions, c\asses, and rhcto rics, regu lations and codes, they must submergc, cut through , get beyond the ultima te reserve-discoursc, including the one that la ughs at t he very idea of pronollncing the word " silence," the one that. aiming for the impossible, stops short befare the word " impossible" and writcs it as "the end." (Cix(>us ... Lau gh " 256) Thc bag lady 01" pc rronna ncc lill1ps ulong. pusllln1' Ile' shoppillg cu rt, poking in acade mic :Jlley lrash ca ns ror hits uf l', ¡I'la! i'lttl,,~1 ,ll1d plast ic, mldin!(

,,,

remna nts ul" disci pli lles lo her rnlling li knny baggugc. Tolcralcll h ut fo .. lhe most pa rl ignoreJ by Illiddk cJass rhetoricia ns a mI 110UI'(' OU riche cOlllm un­ ication consultants, her life history is a mudd led one. C laiming ancient and royal roots in her multered ravings. she pulls on the slecves 01' well-beelcd literary men, offering enlightenment and self growth a s she points to her overftowing cart. The disquieting image 01" a bag lady is indelibly marked witb gender, c1ass. race, and ethnicity and serves as a reminder lI lat performance st udies is not divorced fro m formati ve c ultural , historical, and polítical enta ngle­ ll1ents. Text (fl1d Performance QlIarlerly's special iss ue, "Criticism Since the 1970s," explored ma ny of these concerns, but it was the image of the bag lady that appeared when Paul G ray asked , "To what extent has ex pression­ interpretation-performance of lilcrature been essen tially ' women 's work '?" (272). T he question, prompted by Capo and I-I an tzis's essay in the speciaJ issue, " (En)gendered (and EndangereJ) Subjects: Writing, Reading, Perform­ ing, and T heoriz.ing Fell1inist Criticism," is also an invi tation. Gray calls for " a nearsigh led feminist h istorian in our midst wh o might ignore what is going on in Engli sh departments and theatre and write instead about our own marginalized di scipline" (272). W hile characterizing performance st udies as " women 's work " is new, the label "marginalized discipline" is not. Dwight Conquergood describes Plato 's /U/7 as the " Iandmark c1assical trea1Íse deal ing with performance of literat­ ure" which concludes that. " without system or substance, beyo nd {he pale of rational proeedures and knowledge c1aims, lhe rhapsode is m arginal , trivi al. and insignificant" (25). F rie Peterson c1aims that "oral interpretation has ensured its survival as a discipline by isolaling its 'aesthetic nature' on lhe margins of speeeh com munication and communication rescarch generally" (25). With lhe explosion of feminist research in o ther disciplines, Lan gell ier, Carter, and t-1 anlzi s attest to a twofold tendency " to marginal izc performance studies within communication studies coupled with the muting of feminist critique within performance studics" in their survey critique of performance research (88). Instead of rallying the defenses against perceived or real mar­ ginalizations, this essay explores the possibilities of portraying performance studies as/is woman and traces possible historical routes to the " margin. " 1t offers a new story of the woman who pieked up the mantle of performance when Plato attacked the rhapsode Ion for his lack of crealivity and inability to render Truth. She wears the mantle well , for performance, Frcnch feminists contend, is the ground zcro ofthe femini ne. From her fi rst faked orgasm- tbat conscious, dcli berale, and efficaci o us act-woman performs (Spivak 169). This new story )1' perro nn ancc h istory is to ld with the voices of Frcnch feminism 's f'écrilure ./i'lIlininc (w ri lin g WO lll llll 'S body l, American feminist historiograph y. and Ihcir varÍous 1;1ll1s1 rlll.:tiollS 01' "wr)llll~n 'S experiencc. " Donna I Jaraway con­ Icm1s Ihat " this C~pC II~'''C~' l', I Itl'I¡III' ¡I nd fael 01' the 010st crucial. poli tieal I

1~ \

1) Illi I N 1'1 It, N S

kind . Lihl!ra liún rcsts un Ihcco n ~ttu cti()n 1.1r 1.h~ conscill ll:m\!SS, Ihl: im aginu l­ ive apprche nsi on, 01' o pprcssion, and so 01' possibili ly" (.")¡I/IÚIIl.\' 14H). I"h is constr uction will not rein force and valida te acceptcu historical undergi rdi ngs 01' performance studies (Strine, Long, alJd llop Kins 195). 1ns tea d, Ih is sto ry seeks to move gende r issues from the pcri phery 01' performance history lO Ihe center, to problemati ze the performances and prcsence o f women in lhe past. and lO expl ore the implication s 01' defin ing perfo rmance as "women \ work ." Constructing a consci ousness 01' the presence and absence 01' sexual differ­ encc in performance terrorizes the present by " unravel[i ng] the ways in wh ich gender functions to sustain wha t we think we know-and heuce, to begin to unthink it" (Jacobus. KelJe r, and Shuttleworlh 10). This essay exam ines anew three historical " momen ts " in American per­ form ance: the sight 01' the first actress/readers on the platform; the site of speech ed uca lion in privale academies in turn-of-th c-century America; ano fa l interpretation's citations. o r metaphorical attempts at "writiog the body," in performance theory and practice of the 1950s and 1960::;. T he tripartite orga nization of sight, site, and citation serves as a reminder that conventions of vision, culture, and language are inextricably woven textual spaces of representation and idenl ily. This text, deliberatel y ha untcd by the specter of tlle bag lady, traces historica l moments in the con struetion o f performance as 1 women 's wo rk. Hcr body leads to the gendered , constituted creation ofbody in performance studies as a neutered, condemned, and policed realm 01' dü¡­ play for women and as an aeademically marginalized discipline.

Performance as display Body politics have always becn women's politics, whether centercd in issues of reproducti ve freedom, the politics of rape and control, or the dclicatel y permeable ba rriers between public and private spheres. Contemporary con ­ structions of iden tity and representa tio n are now at issue in performance theory ( Langellier " Doing"; Capo and Ila ntzis; Hamera; and Pao), but the historia¡/ accounts of performance st udies' love/hate affairs with the body neglect gender and identity concerns. The concordance of messages inscribed on the female body on the stage,in the visual arts, and in film foregrounds a mul ti plicity of gender, political, and cultural issues at stake in per formance. Women 's bodics on stage always have been contested . S ue-ElIen Case describes "the location ofthe woman performer aS situated on the boun daries of notions of the sacred, public performance, and state politics" (5). A brief history of the presenee and ahsence of women in the theatre informs Case':; contention. Most discussions of westem theatre begin with Ihe presencc of womcn in "pagan istic" seasonal ri tes. in which "a major ro le is in faet usuall y played by women " (Gaster 276). In tenlh ccnt ury Germany, howcvcr, Ihe church ba nned this theatre as " tlcshy. lust rul . immora l" (Mal lll:de 1). Leslcy Ferris in ACling Womc:n no tes the Papal cdict nI' I 'iHX cxp lici ll y hanning lhe

1'\11

l' Illt JI () 1{ MA N I ' 1

pn;sellc-c nI" W\ HlH!1I 011 sl age. I \\( 1'1':1 r i ~, Ihis ellkl indicall:s a shirt I'rom a gl!nl' l'al cOlH.lcll1nali on \1 1" lhe seC lllar Iheatre " lo a much morc specilk amI l'sscnt iully Illisogyn islic censon,hip 01' actresscs ... lahellin g [women on stage asJ Ill lJl'ally suspcct" (40). In 1632, Wi lliam Pyrnne furth er solid ified the cultural associatio n helwecn wanlon l1ess and women acting in H istriomaslrix ,he P!u.\'ers S courge, 0 1', A ('101'.\' T ragedie: And dare theo an y C hri stian woman be so more Lhan wh o rish ly impudent, as to aec to speak p ublicl y on a Stage (perchance in man 's apparel , and cut hair, here proved sinful and abominahle) in l he presence of sundry men and women ? (qtd. in Ferris 65)

011 August 21, 1660. C harles Il overturned the ban aga insl women on stage, decrceing " th a t women must perform on the stage so lhat the plays would be ' useful and inslructive representations of human li fe'" (fraser 41 9). This revolulionary decree, however, was a duplicitolls one: the Ki ng and eo urt of Charles 11 regularly partook 01' sexual ravors from lh e now legally sanet ioned actresses of the court (Fraser 70). Thc next two h undrcd years find wo men on stage in " breeehes ro les." a costume tIlat allows an appropriation of masc u­ linc styles and mobility, wh ile abo disph:l yi ng the aelress's legs. Vestiges 01' this boundary dispute of the sacred, secular, and state linger in multifarious forms. T he stakes in the sk irm ish are localized in th e female body as object and situated in performance as display of that object. Ana:is Ni n in 1940, writing subsidized erotica ror a male patron, turn s this potent poli tic in to litcrary fanta sy in the opening story of Delia o[ Venus. A beautifuJ aclress , after performing on stage, joins maJe audience members in seeluded theatre hoxes in "private" performances. Nin writes, 1Jer presence on the stage prepared thero for her a ppearance in the boxes. She provoked them with her mouth , her eyes, her breasts. And to ha ve their satisfaction, along with music an d lights and singing in a dark , half-curtained hox above lhe audience, was an exccption all y piquant fonn of amusement.

O) Thc tradition of the fem ale nude in western paintings (Berger) and con­ lemporary film theory (Mulvcy) also inform the discLlssion of performance as display and spcctatorship. In French feminist theory , lhe politics of display are cxpressed in the symbolic realm as well, metaphorized as a "scopic cco l1omy" (I riga ray , "Thi~ Sex " 1(1). Vision, lhe primary apparatus for cst abli.)hi ng sexua l d irrcrem.:c, "is hasell, lO a great exte nt, upon the poin t 01' l/in .., Ihercfon! II pnl1 iI ~1I'(II t\c il111iOI I
H) U NI)" 11 () N S "N 1) l) I! I I N 1 1 1() N S

,Ihlll ORM ¡\ NI 1 ,'\ ' 1 IJ IJlI S "S \\l O M Im's WOI{ K.

" Sorties" 95). T he scopic economy oCsex uality is "a voyeur's Lheo ry" (CiXO llS, "Sorties" 95). Th us , the objectified representations 01' women in theatre, visual arts, and symbolic reaJms coa l e~ce in performance as display. T his plen urn of historical, sex ual , and scopic iss ues cha llenges the apolitical hi s~ toriogra ph y of performance stud ies.

Performance as display troübles the con ventional acco unts of lhe historical presence 01' women in perfo rmance studies : how does one explai n tbe incl u­ sion of women, indeed , lhe prominence of women , in th e history o f perform­ ance in America? Performance scholars have not had to recover, to the sa me extent as have scholars in history , literature, science, and philosoph y, the lost accomplishments 01' " great women ," "writing women back" into collective accounts of oLir past. "As long as interpretation has been an academic subject." Gray c\ airn s, " women ha ve dominated it" (272).2 But as Spitzaek and Carter remind us, the visibility of women does not gua rantee that iss ues of identity, represcntation, and power will be addressed or tTea ted prob \ematically (401). The platform careers 01' Anna Cora Mowatt, F rances Anne Kemble, and Charlotte Cushman mark the beginni ng of women as professional readers in America. Their successes, recounted in their own writings , histories 01' the American theatre, amI in numerous biographies, are most often treated as "contribution history," an assessment 01' women 's contributions in male­ centered hi stories (Lerner, jVJajorily). David Thompson , for example, wri les of the appearances of Mowatt in 1841 as "a new departure in the history 01' interpreta tion in America. Before her, only a very few mcn hall occasionall y given a professional reading, and almost no women had done so" (HEarl y" 633). Both Thompson and John Gentilc acknowledge that appropriate d is­ plays of gender and class were challenged in the platform appearances 01' Mowatt, Kemble, and Cushman, although by C ush man's ap pearance in I ~n 1 the novelty of a woman on the platform had lessen ed. This narrative, how­ ever, moves beyond appropriateness to cast the early platform appearancc.s of Mowatt and Kemblc as the first p/acemenl of public reading of literat ure in a neutral, "degendered" zo ne . Bctwcen the sex.ually charged sl age anu lhe rhetoricall y chargeu polilical plat ronn , these reaucrs negotialcu gcndcr pro­ hibilions amI e1ass pri vilegcs in the publil: spa~1;' M \: ull ura l prouul:tion . T hesc p ro hibi lirms ¡¡mI privilcgcs wcrt hHJdly pn1ll01lm.;~J hy cu lt ural a rhiLrat o rs u f tlll' till lCS II nri stingi ngly t~ 1 1 hy Mowa ll ;11 1\ 1 (' 11 :.1111\<111, "he

"boullo s 01' wOl11a l1huod ," Jdined by Rl: verenu Philcmon owler in
, '\/ ,

q ',

Women

011

the rcadjog pJatform: sights of glamour, grace, and great ideals

By writing her sclf, woman will return to the body which has been mo re lhan confiscated from her, which has been t urned into (be uncanny stranger on d isplay. (Cixous, "Laugh " 250)

r

I' HIU IlltM AN( ' li S ll; .. II ; " AS

1IIIINflA I'I(JNS ¡\NII DI(HNIIIIIN .";

politim / pla lrortll rOl" lhc fi ls t lim<: as wc ll . a ligllcd Wllh n:ligi\ Hls, clhnic, and racial b s ues amI wilh agcmla as interwovCfI as ahulilioll, telll pcrancc, sulTrage, and women's rights. In denyi ng lhe Biblical adm onition 01' Pa ul to " Iet your womcn keep silen l," p ublic womcn transgressed c ultural bound s that had previousl y limi ted lhcir polit ical participation to " gracing" Ihe siJe­ lines of p ublic di scourse (Ryan, Womcn in Puhlic 19- 57). The means and meta phors of the rhetoric aimcd al women rcformers recall condemnation of women in the theatre. Ka rl yn Kohrs Campbell describes F ranees W right who "shoc ked 'prom isc uous' audiences of men and women in 1824 with her sllort curly hair, her dress (she wo re t he free-fl ow ing t llnic and pa nts costume of the utopian New Ilarm on y C ommunüy), and her views" (15). At one speaki ng appearanec in 1836, W right was met by a mob outsi <.le a New York C ity Masonic hall shouting " whore" a mI " ha rloL" A subsequen t ncwspaper report labelled her " a fem ale man " (Ryan, Womcn in Puh!ic 134). In 1837 Sara h Gnmke under took a leclure to ur through Massachusetts deli ver ing her " Letters on Equality" on behalf of abol itíon but voicing a radical femini st position . 1848 marked the year of the Seneca Falls W oman's Rights C onvention . rn 1854 a nd in 1860 Elizabelh Cady Stanton del ivered addresses to the New Y ork State LegislatuTe demanding a woman 's rights to " a voice in the government under which she li ves; in the religion she is askecl to believe: equality in sociallife; a place in the trades a nd professions" (1 90). And in 1873 Susan B, Anthony was índicted and brought to trial for voting in the 1872 Congressí onal electi on . C ampbell summarizcs the venom directed a t all these women in press accounts: Stories descri bed lhe conven tion sponsors as "a rebellio us group of agcd spinsters, crossed in love, trying to avenge themselves by making others more miserable th an themselves," and accused them of "wishing to wear men 's c1othes" and "aiming to put men in the kitchen while they swaggered about the world. " (67) This cacophon y of vo ices enacting and creating the history or the penod in biographies, press accounts, speeches, and reviews, spea ks to the publjc bo undaries of c1ass, gende r, racial , and political spheres. W bile the nascen t politicaJ voices of W right, G ri mke, and Stanton were d rowned by a derisive press, the performing voiees of Mowatt, Cushman, and Kcmball were her­ alded . The actresslreaders on the platfonn arc a nextls between two equa ll y potent, but fundamentally dilTerent, images of women: th e painted aclress \Vho di~l>lays herself on stage for the pleasure o rmen . a nd the pol ítical aclivis who lo udly and eloquently voices her dema nd fM equality wil h men . Thc actresslreaders became a poi nt of negotia tion (~)r a nJ a cOl1lprOmilie he! wecll woman as objeet /acli ng and wom~1O a~ 'iuhjccl /'ipéa ki llA.

'1<

WIl~ 1 1

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rlt is 'iilé or cll ltll ral .H,;ct'llll llodati oll is can;f"ully p'll mllcJ . T hc aclTess! d id not voice Ihcir () Wll (politica lly chargcd) words, but voiceJ the words of literary and dramatic masters. T heir p ublic mo tives were not eman­ cipatory, b ut cultural valida tjon o f esta blished literary ideal s. They did not Ui:;play their bodies, but purposefu ll y (un )costumed them: M owa tt "resisted all entrcaties to wear any rieh attire, and was dressed in sim ple white m uslin ... 1 wo re no ornamen ts" ( 148). Kem ble an d Cush rna n dressed in elegant cvcni ng cl ot hes tha t ma rked theÍJ' membership and their privil eged position in an eli te class. Moreover, the women did 110t stand, but sat " at the readi ng desk" (Thom pson , " E arl y" 645). Their physical deeorum is hauntingl y re­ rniniscent of Ernma Hart Willa rd 's presen tatio n of "A Plan rOl' Improvíng Fcmale Education " to the New Yo rk legislature in 1819. Unlike the male legislators who stood while addressing the assembly. Ha rt sat while deli vcri ng hcr "speech. " rcaJ cr~

Although thi s was very unconventíonal fOI" a woma n [to spca k in public], she did not hesitate, so great was her enthusiasm for her Plan .. . She impressed them not as the much-scorned femalc poli li­ cian , but as a noble woman insp ired by a great ideal. (qtd . in K . C ampbell 11) Rather tha n viewing the accom plishmcnts of the platform readers simply as "a communal joy in t he social sharing of Iiterature" (Thom pson, " Early" 648) , a mo re important aecomplishment for a wom an-cen te red perform ance history is the astonishing balancing aet these readers performed on the bou nd­ arics between the
, 1"

I OIINIJA nONS AND J>II' I NI I' /ON S

b ul on ly in a safe, "dcgende red." u ndi lferenli aled wu y th
Women and educadon: in pursuit oC more than "ha.rmJess pursujts" TlI rn-of-the-ccntury America ma rked tumultuous economie and social changes: " in the lives of the urban working c1ass and ethnic minorities , in muckraking journal ism of busi ness and politics, in artistic rea lism and modernism, in feminism , educatio n, and other fields " (Kasson , AmusinK 4) . The preeminent cultural arbitrators- whitc. middle c1ass, Protestant ministers, edllcators, and cri tics- found thcmsclves increasingly unable to " discipline, refine, and instrllct l he tur bul ent urban-indllstrial democracy" ( Ka sson, Amusing 4). Th e idealistic bo unda rics of the woman's sphere. with its Iexicon o f domestici ly, maternalism , and fa m ily (R yan, O'ud/e), collapsed in kind with increasi ng numbers ofwhite. middle-c1ass women entering the public sphere as studen lS and teachers in Pllblic education, forging their cconomic participation in public life . T he role(s) 01' and for women in education in this period indi cate a P,H­ ticularly complex web of interactions among gender, hiology, c1ass, race , and educational horizoos. These interactions seem to place women o utside intc l­ lectual borders, to draw bo und a ries fOl' appropriate cducal io nal pUl's uits. anu lo e reel baniers ror cultural m o hility anu acccss. The hislorica l presence 01' women as educalon; is un q llesti oned: in lhe ;l I1 IChcllUIll y~ars . une nll l (Ir rour white, !\mcriC<1n women laught somclill1l' in Ih\!i , li ves (lkmurd alld VinovSk is). 1' 11 1

!'hlt! ORMANI I ,S 'IIIIIII S A S W()~HN''i WORK

!\~ a n oppo rtu nily lo elller a profession a no lo pllrsue a career, pu blic school tcach ing was an acceptable route. These ncw profcssional women, however. werc pOMly paid , poorly slIppl ied, aad often lIndcrl rained.. A l lhe 1853 ann ual convention of teachers meeting in R ochester, men hotly debated why lhe teaching profession did no1 d em a nd the respeel affordcd to the pro fcssio ns ofmedicine , law, and the m inistry. When Susan B. A nthony wa s "gran ted permission " to speak to the assembly (arter a thi rt y-minu le d ebate on the l11eriL.. of a woman speaking in public) , she eloquentJy refl ected:

It seems to me, gen t lemen, that none of you quite comprehcnd the cause of l he disrespect of which you compl a in . Do yo u not see ll1at so long as society says a woman is ineompetent to be a lawyer, minister, o r doctor, but has ample ability to be a teacher , thal every man ofyou who chooses this p rofessi o n tacilly acknowledges lha l he has no more brains than a woman? (qtd . in Lerner, Fema/e Experience 235) Anthony's reaso ning, makin g explicit the patriarchal context und erly ing the d eval ua tion of lhe leachi ng profession , fell on deaf cars. In 1888, 90(){, of all public sehool teachers in cities were women, earning o ne-third the wages o f men in lhe same positions (W oody) . A wom an ' s pl ace was in the c\assroom , at least until m ore fitting arrangements of marriage and mothering cOllld be made . W hereas white, middle-c\ass women com prised tlle overwhe lming majority of public sehool teachers, their access to training and preparatíon for teach­ ing v,;as hamstrung by the nolion tllat th e purpose of a woman 's education was preparation for marriage (Fo x 219). Hi gller ed ucation for women al the lurn of lhe century emphasized the development of character and the pursuit of' culture, not as preparation for professional careers but "to ocoupy maidcns' minds ,vith a ha rmless pursuit " (MacDonald 30). In 1892 DI'. D . !-{ayes Agnew, hcad of the University of Pen nsylvania's Medical School, ba lked at lhe admission of women, c1aiming "a woman should be taught ' housekeep­ ing, hygiene and be//e-/ellres,' and after that , ' the more she knew the \Vorse off she was'" (qtd. in F rye r 246). Biologist Donna llaraway sllmmarizcs the preva iling sentiment 01' the scien tific communily toward hi gher education for women : "M iddle c1ass white women ... might imperil their heallh and rcpro­ dllctive function . Were they unsexed hy diverting the Iimited store of organic energy to their head s at crucial organic m o ments'?" (Primate 55). "WOlllcn 's work ," from lhe domestic sphere to the c1assroom, retains the cha raclcr 01' hou sework: a scarcity of econol1lic rewards , lh e care oC ehilclren , rcspom¡i bil ily ro r tlll' 111llla l llntl c ullural developmenl o lhers, ami a paucity nI' préstige 1"11 1" lh\: dTull ( 'll wr mu n ). A bsolulely neccssa ry to the m a.in­ h:llancl.' M OOtl l hll ll ,;dHlld~ alltl Cd ll ~¡¡ lill ll, wnmcl1 's work goes on " in the Sllll d llW \)1 the 11 1111 l' JI'lhltl' ¡'lid h ll'lallvc wtJJ'k 0 1' men" (Ryan , e rad/e 2(3).

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Evcry woman has k nown lhe tor mcnt 01' getling up lo spca k. Iler heart racing. a t li mes entirel y lost for wonh, ground ano langu agc slipping away- that's how daring a feat , how greal a transgrc~sio ll it is for a woman to spea k · --evcn jusI o pen her mout h- in publico A do ub1e distress, for even if she transgresses, her words fall almost al ways upon the dea!' male ear. which hears in language onl y that which speaks in the masculi llc. (Cixous. "Laugh" 25 1)

The ma lpra¡;li¡;cs 01' c1oculilll1 tire convc ntionally describcd as thrcllrold: 1) Ihe emphasis on the body ano techn ique to the exclusion of Jitcrary under­ stan d ing: 2) the cho ice o f didactic and sentimen tal litcrat ure; and 3) lhe (Illis)application 01' the theories o f Austin and D c1sartc . These historieal dcscriptions, however, are laced wi th condem nations 01' pcrformillg women and c1it isl assum ptions regarding li tera ry va lues a nd tastc. Thc premi um placed on body , "physical exerciscs, d ances and pantomimes to tone the body and enable full expressi on" (Goss 265), were the " ridiculous aspect of Delsarti an tra ining" (Robb 131) a nd "resulted in the worst ex­ ces ses ofthe eloc ution ary movement" (Bacon, Ar' 5). The methods that seem "more absurd tban any of those 01' the preceding period ," aeco rding to Robb, inc111ded Gree k posing, or "poses pl~tique , " G ay MeLa ren , in M orally We Rol! Along, describes how she and other women, "arrayeu in white cotto n robes ... stood a rew feet apart and changed slowly from one pose to an other with Delsarte m ovements to the count of ten" (qtd. in Rob b 130). Primary sources from this period that seek to judge performance st)'les are 10aded evaluations of " th e work" of perfo rming women. Elsie Fogerty's per­ sonification 01' distorted perfonn a nccs were " Miss M o na Wails" and " Miss Cha tty Styles" (qtd. in Sivier 296) . S. S. C urry recoun ts o ne performance of Wordswortlú "Daffodils" :

Turn -of-the-century speech in stmction , offered in private academies of elocu­ tion and oratory, is an importan l si te ror in tcrrogating the pa rameters 01' women 's work as educati o l1. As en tcrta illm ell t, as adden da to pu blic sch ool curricula for child ren, and as a means of contributing to cultural awareness and growt h for adults, these prí vatc academ ies flourished in Amcrica betwecn 1886 and 1920. Jud y Baker Goss's study of four private academies in Dal1as, Texas, in the early 1900s testifics to the sociall y and culturall y upward aspira­ ti ons and valucs that supported speech educa tion: "The community sancti oned the stresses on voice, poise, a nd personality development, and the teachers kept these aims as priorities" (262). These academies scrved a number of constituencies. For men , spccch training was percei ved as valuable fo r the business world. For chi ld ren , " Expression lessons were as popul a r as lessons in music and, later, dance," Goss writes (262). These academies al so offered distinctl y dil'ferent teach ing methods and aims: the teaching of expression a nd its premium on sbaring "lhe soul of the poet" versus the teaching 01' "Delsarto-elocutionary display" (Edwards 538) with its premium on tech­ niq ue. The popula rity 01' clocution, according to conventiollal accounts of perfor m ance history, was a lso its downfaH: it became a " fad. a product (a nd victim) 01' the ri sing mass culture" (Gentile 72). The rise and faH of elocution within performance history, howcver, has no t been lin ked to the presence 01' women in private academies 01' clocution and oratory . "The town's elocution teacher was nine out 01' ten times a woman, " G ray writes, "a nd tIle private schools ofspeech weTe overwhelmingly oriented toward thc education 01' women" (272). Gray's contention must be gleaned from thc margins 01' performance historiographies, for women ha vc never been treated as principals. The story of " Delsarto-clocutionary display" is told here as women: as successful material emanci pa tion 01' women '$ bodies; as opportunities fOI" public participation in remale spectatorship; a nd as resistant sphere 01' ed ueational horizons for women. Indeed. thc " a llegcd malpractices" (llaas and Wi lliams 2 1) 01' elocution were t he practices al' women.

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[As] she carne to the last two li nes. -And then my heart wi th pleasure 611s, and dances wi th lhe daffodils,-She put her hand to her heart and with pleasure indicated by a sentimental flash of the eye upon the a udience, danced a few graceful steps expressive of exuberant joy, and bowed herself off the platform amid vociferous applause of the audience. The reader 's taste in this case was no worse than that of the audicnce that applauded her. (qtd. in Edwa rds 535- 36) Edwards notes that Hiram Corson amends this critique as " not a lack of laste, but él lack 01' spiritual life" (536). Evalllations of taste and literary vallles are directed at both litcrature and audiences. For S. H. C1ark . "cheap" literature is " palpable, tangibl e, and therefore meets with a certain amount 01' success with half-cducated a udi­ L:nces . .B ut the latter are no judges of literature, and know still less of the recitational art" (qtd. in Gentile 71 - 72). C1ark's reasoning is innoccntly illustratcd in this Da!/a.\" Nc\vs account 01' a May aftcrnoon in 1912: Yesten.lay artcmoon to an audience tha1. fi lled thc concert room at !30!) ('1)l11mcn.:c ~I ri!l: 1 I ht: rriday afternoon club prescnLed M rs. A . 1\ . ("ol:k~ 111 ;\ 11.:11111111' 01' '"Enoch I\r(hm" to the Strauss music

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::;dlin g wh ich M iss Gracc Ca rey playcu at lhe pia llo . W hcn tlll~ a udi ­ cm:e disbanded there werc traces 01' tea rs on many I;'u.:cs a nd a IlIl osl complimentary ex pression of appreciatio n \VeTe heard on all sides. (qtd . in Gos::; 272)

1nterspersed in t hese eval ua tive acco unts 01' perform anees is a va lorizatl on oC the syslemic theories of A ustin, Delsa rte, Rush , and Wal ker, anc! a eondem na­ tion oftheírmisapplieation by women. These "sound " theories are " pervert[ed]" (Lec 579; Reynolds 142), " watered dowu" (L ee 579), a nd result in " regretta ble excesses and rn isconceptions" (Lee 579). lndeed.. Ihe theories of Austi n and Delsartc reached t heir height of " oddi ty." aceo rdi ng lO R oloff and Il ol1 wi tz, whcn many teachers in prívate acaJernies, " like Genevieve Slebbin s, transfonn ed Delsarte's teaehings in LO a kind offinishing school rOl' young women " (493 ). Loea lizing the excesses and rna lpractices 01' elocuti ú n in women is evid­ ent in Genti le' s conclusion, "The loca l 'eloc utionary la dy' was él co rumon malady in the smal1 to wn s of Amerita by the late nineteen th eentury" (71). The teaching and practi ce o f elocuti onary aelivities by women are spaces 01' eontention and subversion ofthe " body politic" in the ra pidly shirting Amer­ ican seenc. Tbese mal pradices read q ui te d ifferently when a pproached a ~ women 's negoti ation s of perfoffiJance as display. Womel/'s elocutiOllary pI"attices Statue-posing, tableaux, and exploration 01' gesture and movement may be read not as " bodil y exeess," but as counterpoint to bodily temperanee practieed in public and pri vate life. W hite, middle-class women at the turn of the century were corsetted in whalebone, trailing dozens ofyards ofheavy, f10wing mate r­ ial , const rieted at the wa ist, and bustled at the posterior. T he il1usion was a bel1-shaped perfection of balance and graee (A llen 84 - 87). The reality \Vas eu m bersome confinement 01' body and movement in a package readied for publie (non)con sumption, The publie patrol ofthe body, always in
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E/oelltiol/ as lIIomell's resi,~1aJl ce .Iohn Mansfield describes a performance at lhe O xford Speech Festival in 1922:

[1\ ] young woman began, in a way that made me hold my breath with the th ollght , oh if only Yeats eould hear this . It was as though his though t had gone nying into the \Vorld . and had suddenly found one who co uld use il wi lh cvcry graee amI d igni ty. When shc had finished, I ask cJ lI1y U0ll1p:1I11l1ll jIlJgC!. "who la ug ht tha t girl?" (q ld. in Sivi cr 285) 1, 1

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Spcccll cducation's atl cllIpls lo shakc lhe womcn'::; work 01' clocution is readily ap parenl in lwcllliclh ccntury colleges and universities. The growing respcdability 01' speech as an academic discipline and the crcation of gradu­ ate programs in areas of public spea king, oral oxpression, and speech scÍences were certainly importan! moves away from private, wom en-centered, llnaccredited academies in the early twentieth century (Heston 31 8 31 9). To trace this movement from communal commodi ty to academic discip­ line in departments of speech, an important historicaJ "moment" is literary criticism's objectivist shift to intrinsic textual analysis and the valorization of literature that flourishes under such methodologies (Valentine). The methodological shift from prescrip tive rules and codification to litera ry an alysis firmly maneuvers performance studies away from elocution a ry " women 's work " to the "manly task or reaIly knowing anytb.in g about a piece of Iiterature" (Geiger 26). Although G eiger's contention is ton gue-in-cheek , prominent oral interpretation textbooks from the 1950s and 1960s are not apolitical te rrains. " While it is easy lo dismiss the elocutionists," H aas and Williams wTote in 1975, "it is obvious that what \Ve say today abo lit oral interpretation has been determined , in part, from what the elocutionists said then" (21). Placing woman as/is performer in the oenter of recent history , the many negotiations of control in modem oral interpretation practice and theory suddenly take on a new e1arity ( Langellier, Carter, and Hantzis). Perform­ ance is carefully patrolled and policed; body is clllturally constructed and constricted; the relationship between performer and audience is a skirmish on the borders of display ; and the text is invested with an essential sovereignty. Terrorizing recent performance theory and practico involves disrupting our "ways of looking" at gender and identity issues in performance studies and challenging the apolitical innocence of writing the body. The simultaneous apprehension of woman " as/is" performer t'orces two assumptions to the forefront. First, "woman as pcrformer" places a gendered body in the theoretical ano practical talk about performance. John Berger suggests one method for erupting convenlions of seeing women in paintings: mentally replace the image ofthe reclining nude remale with a man's body and note the violence done to the imago (64). Gendcr-neutral body talk in perform­ ance, when deliberately shattered by replacing "he" with "she" points to the impossibility of ignoring sexual difference. Second, " woman is performer" is a theoretical contention tha! recalls misogynistic inscriptions 01' woman as deceiver, liar, a nd mallipulator. This recollection, however, is embraced and turned Ofl itsd L ('ol1lcJll porm y eonstructions of gcnder locate masculine and remi ni ne m k s alld bd ,av ip Is 11 0\ in hiology or anatomy , but in perform­ ances, learned am I ddi h\:n dc Iha l are cll acled uaily ( Bu tler). WOlllen as/is pcrrorll1l'r is hn lh cll lH!L'll l ll id ln ll IIml lfh.'vil ahili ly,

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Ill'ill d t:sl:rirliOlls, Ih e way ill wh idlllrl' hoJy js ¡;I\;all'd. la nglra gc IS a l' OIl SI jllll jve ael ror pcrformam;c llrl!nrisls. The 10cali1:­ 1111,\ \) 1' the n\)( ly as a siJ!hl . sill!, ami now ¡;itation in the pro¡;ess and produel 01' pC ll"ollllilnce holh inscribes a nd eonscribes the body in performance amI ils rd ill in ns lo womcn's work. The linguistic maneuvcrs nccessary lO " w rite" Ihe hody in oral interpretation textbooks are not divorced from the po lil ics 01' !ClHk r. T hcse citalions metaph o rieally (dis)place the body in the ac t of per­ lú nllilllce, poli¡;e Ihe body in public display, and create a eo mposite pi¡;ture or Ihe "wrong" body as intrusive , excessive, emotional, and uncon trollable- ín sl lO rt, lhe porlrait 01' the hyslerieal wo man. The hyste rical woman as a fig ure f discoursc comparable to " Ihe mad women in the attic" ofliteratu re (Gilbert ;¡nd G ubar) is likewise a product of performa nce co nven tio ns. 1I1r ""gil

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'l'wo imporlant metaphors create a nd loeate the body in oral interp retation lcxl books of lhe 1950s a nd I 960s: Charlotte Lee's " middleman " and Wallace Uacon's "embodiment." Whilc the t\Vo will come to theoretical differences u ver aeslhetic and pradi¡;al implications of those labels, both depictions of the body (dis)place a nd den y corporealily and subjeelhood for the performer, wilh speeifie consequences for woman as/is performer. Charlotte Lee locates the body as " the middlcman between the author's illtcnl. as red ueed to the printed page, and the alldience" (3). This po tent l11ctaphor echoes throughollt modern interpretation textbooks, whether gra­ phically depicted in models (Brooks, Bahn , and Okey 38) or ¡;reated throllgh langllage ["when you step into the background and place the interpretation in Ihe I'orcground, you are making a major step toward developing stylc" (Brooks. Bahn and O key 50) l. The middleman image metaphoricaIly places lhe performer between the audienee and the li terary text; the audience and lhe performer quite real in their physicality, but the text now invested with corporeality in the diagram or phrase. The midd\eman metaphor succeeds ill confusing subject/objcct positioning and privileging the commodities 01' tex l a mI alldienee to the exclusion ofthe performer. The "scopic economy" 01' performance created by, evalllated in , and experienced through Pllblic dis­ play conslantly bllrdens the performer with a set of mixed messages . At once Oll display between the texl and audience, the body must never be the ohjec/ 01' lhe audience's attention: " too many or too specific gestures are li kel y lo call attention to tlle person 01' the interpreter and hence distract fro m lile malerial" (Lee 83 84). The audienee as mascllline subjed , as "sa nctioned vo ye urs" (F reedm an 54) observing, parlicipating in , and w-crea ting lhe cxpericnce "in lheir QWIl m inds and emot iOn1," (Lee 5), somehow remains hla nrc1css and innoecnt: Ihe objecliflcalion of lhe hody oflhe perfonner is her fatl lt. In Lcc"s I.:heck lisl for :-;cl f-cva luatio n. rm I!x"mpJ\!, lhe qucst i,)n, "Were Ila:rc spOl:.> when.: Ihey wl!n: a warc o/" you ralher l hu 11 yOI1 r [na Il:ri al'l" a p plJars

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(6.'» . I'osi lill g tlw body as ""riddl\:( wo )l11 a ll" coulúullds subjccl/objecl posi­ lioning. slripping the inlerprelcr nI' subjeclhond and yct forbidding objecthood as taboo. Indeed , the interpreter becollles, in a very strange sense ofthe word, the "Other" as described by Si mone de Beauvoir: she-a free and autonomous being Jike all human ereatures ­ nevertheless finds herself living in a world where men compeJ her to assume the stat us of the Olher. They propose to stabilize her as objeet and to doom her to immanence sinee he r transeendence is to bc overshadowed and foreveT transcended by another ego (con­ science) whieh is essential and sovereign. (5 5- 56) T he sexual politics of self/other are reified and conventionalized in this poten t performance melaphor. Wallace Baeon 's response to the metaphor 01' the middleman is clear: Some teaehers of interpretati on think 01' the inte rpreter as a middlc­ man between poet and alldienee, speaking for tlle poct. Bu t this is a view that we sha ll not adopt. It has the llnhappy cffeet of making the interpreler sound like a funncl or megaphone through which the poet speaks, a midd Jeman not rcspon sible for the proouct but cashing in on the saje. (Ar/46) Bacon introduces a seeond metaphor for the body in performance, an "organic congruence" between performer and text : " lhe performer is the poem , ... [s]he is not a horn through which lhe poet ealls , not a vacuum transmitting speech , but the em bodiment 01' speech" (Ar/ xvii). This "somatomorphosis," in which the body ofthe performer is "cited" as the poem, further complicates slIbject/ object positioning. The notion of ritual sa¡;riflce to the text , so that perform ­ ance is viewed as "an a¡;t o fhomage to the poem ," as a "eommunion between the poem and [her]self ... that the audience overhears" (A/"I 46) , eontinues the subjuga tion of the performer. ¡ndeed, this site for the body in perform ­ ance renders the physical body nonexistent by replacin g the substantial with the insubstantial , sacriflcing eorporeality of the body to the invested , created, wnstituted body of the poem . The performer now is a subject (the poem embodi ed, print in¡;arnated) , but the residlle of the body remains the object. Still on display, the lx:rform er as/is \\lom an continues to shatter the new , cmbodicd subjcelllood. O nce (d is)placed . 11ld .. p Ir Pli/cd " i1way" lhrough lan glla ge. lhe body \!rfom1 a ncc Icx lhllob palllls IWll lj llllC di slinet pOrl ra ils orlhe body. Bo th Lec ulld Baco ll WI ill.' 11 11' 111'111 IlIldv \\Ii lll Iclcrcnccs to sCJúncc. psyc hology, ami nalul'~" Clll llhllll'd \\111 11 1111'11 , IIl l l"1I 1 ap pea ls lu acst hctic l1 isl¡mcc amI J,I'/

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1I11 1I1111J. alllJ Ihmugh Ih ese Lls:-;ocia lio lls, causes lhe Ill usclcs lo lighten or 11'1 11'" ( /7 1, h)r LCé, tht: r~ychO I \)gisl's no Li on o f "sel,"' lhe men tal readiness ull lludc. is n:nl!clcJ in anJ cornmunicateJ by the body befo re a perf0 n11ance hel'llh M nrcovl'l , lhese psycho-scien lilk p ri nci pies a re co uched as "n at ura l" 1,11 hCI 111:111 mccha nica l (J r practica!. The goal o f an e ffortless, habi tual respo nse ,ll' rwab (1) UIlClll1Sci ollS activity 01' tbe body: "For the Ume being, it is suffici­ clI l 1I1:t 1 yl lll c.in be heard and u nuerslood. a nd th a t yo ur body is respo nd ing lIa! 111 :llIy lO IIll' ¡';¡t:tnge$ in cmoti on and lo the general requirements of :Illl!plahk rllstun; ano physieal ale rlncss" (62). BIIl.:nt1s "wrillcnlrigh 1" body will a l50 m a.kc gest ures to wa rd science, psy­ l Itnh w y IIn d na lure., poi n ling lowa rd New Cri tical notions of truth: 111

Sc Íl'llCC sccks lo est ablis h tr uth objecti vely, though it must work Ihl"ll ugh processes whic h are in part a lways subjective; poetry seeks 10 I.!st ahl ish nol lru lh b UI ra ther " what is true, " beca use it bel ieves Iln ll l ite w()rld is as we pcrceive it.

(Arl 7) PWt'ltologieal a pproaches to k inesthesis, a ttitudes impl ied in am! com m un­ k a ll,'J by houy. a re a ppropr ia ted by Bacon to encour age "active participa tio ll 111 ' " l'¡¡,cra ry texC' (An 16). Baco n's nod to nature is partic ularly C artesian, 1111 lit",' "na lu ral" bod y is qua lified by the mind: "Thc interprcter's response 1I 1\lk l be in lhe best sense bodil y response, the response or a body with a mind iI" (/I n 259). r he "rig h l'" hody in pe rfo rmance is red uced am! policed. The totality ofthe hlld y n.:d llcc.:d lo "head, arms, shoulders, hands, torso, a nd legs " (Lee 80) and 11I 1I:-IcII.: Ion \! ami pos tllre arc " controlled in the intcrests of dignity and poise" , 1 \.!I.! 7<)) . r o r Baco n, " lhe interpreter's most expressive area is doubtless the ;II IJI! 01' I he hcau and shoulders, the upper part o f the body , which is what tbe ;llIdl\!lICC 1I'i1l4l1ly wa tches during a perfo rmance" (Art 47) . T he economy o f lX'r rurlll unce cnergy is a light one: "a way of expending energy in which Il\l llling i:> was tcu. T be interp reler at h[er] best is thri fty; [s]he avo ids waste" , Uuc~)jt . "/1' / 47 ). Indeed, lhe " right" body in perfo rmance is Bakhtin 's " cl as­ sll.:al hoJy" wilh no ori lices and no base bodily function s (Stallybrass and Wl1i lc). r he " righ l" body is Ba rker's " posilive" bod y which has no desires or IUIH:liolls anJ is tra nsfor med in lO lite " absent" body. T hc "righ l" hod y in pcrlOnn a nce is I 'o llcall lt 's " docile" body , in which conslrainls 01' d iscipl i\l c alld cIlll1plia llCC increusi ngly survey anJ pol icc hoJ il y f\llll"l io l1s ( f)i.l"cifl/ine). .I alll"l WIlIfI slI¡';l.:ill clly!i lllllllla ri/es I'o uca lllt's arg u lI l\: lIl : " willl Iltc dis,lrrJC IIl wugh in lcn lal i/il llllll 11111 1 ¡'1"I11I1Il'~ 111.1 J¡lI g~·l:xlcn l . \1 1/ 'i lllwilli\IIIX " (1 .1.' I )~)

1"

I~II

Pllbliclp"¡pate hQdie,\' For t he per former, self-survei lla nce is particula rly apparent in dist inctions between what is appropr ia te in public and wh a t is appropr iate in p rivate . Pri vate rchea rsals abound with in vitation s to indulge: "go so far in p ractice as to reprod uce the actual screa m s in which the narra tor ind ulged " (Lee 87); "go so far as to use ex.plicit overt actions when they are indicated " (Lee 86). Bacon ad vises, " do all that you can to ach ieve a belief in (l Je reali ty 0 1' the cha racters you will read .. .. Don't be satisfied un til you are sure that yo u ha ve developed a real 'fee!' for each ch aracter" (Arl 79). Broo ks, Baho, and Okey offer simi la r public/private distinctio.ns: "You ma y wa m to let your a rms fly, to lift yo ur b ody, o r even to walk as you read. I n the earl y stages 01' oral p reparation yOll will find that this will enable yO ll to free yourself " (96). T his bodiJ y indulgence, exp loration , reelin g, and " flying," n ever proscri bed by time limits ["Dolú rush ," (Bacon, A rt 79)], ,ue sllddenly condem ncd and policed in pub lic dis play. " T hese are all preparatory exe rcises fo r your reauing, " Bacon wa ros, " nol wha t you will do when you read lhe scene" (A rl 74). This mixeu message, the co ntradietion between what is encollraged in private/insid e am! wha t is all owed in public/outside , is lypical of a cultural disso na nce directed at am! internalized by wome n. Gi lliga n maintains thal [T]he connection between inside an d o utsidc becomes explicitly a focus 01' attention w hen girls reach adolescence and become subjected to a kind of voice and ear training, designed to make it clear wh a t voices people like to listen to in girls and wha t girls can say ... On a daily basis, girls receivc Icsso ns on what they can let out am! what they must keep in. (23) As perfomlance practicc otTcrs a similar mixed messagc, a confllsi on between in sid e and outside, public and private, gcnder cannot be ignorcd. W hen C o n­ quergood offers the F rench etymology orthe word performance as parfóurnir, to fumish th o ro ughly, Ihe image ofthe middle-class home as wo man 's place is powerfully painted (27). Re placing the generalized "he" with the gender­ specific " she" is especially revelatory in Paul Camphell's dcscriptio n 01' the pcrform er as "a sort 01' schizophrenic. [S]he must pretend, a nd know [sJhc is p retending, but with that part 01' [her]self th a t is emotionally in volved in the pretense, [s]he must be genuine" (127). The pathology 01' performance as wo man 's way 01' negotiating public space am! interaction looms largc . A nd when Bacon o ffers th is chiasmus, "Never underestimate the powers of a pocm ; m!vcr overesti rnatc lhe p owers of a rcader" (Ar l 265), is it any wonder lhe bag lady is cruzy? Per fo rmance as display in a scopic econ omy is a c llnslan l ~'llI l r\lsi0 1l Ilf mi xcd lIlessal!:es ro l' woman aslis perro m ler.

_SI

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cxprcssive, superficially seductivc, and pro ne to ina ppro p riatc outbursts 01' emotion. Cognitivcly, they process events in a glo bal and impressionistic man­ ner, paying little attention to detail " (Ba ss uk 144). The body of the hysteríc is a place 01' conslriction and intimacy (Fo ucault, Madness .154), psychical excilatioll (Freud 70), unavoidable presence a nd sympathy (Doane 153). R ather th a n exploiting this abundancc for the voices and bodies expressed th ere (Fuoss, Han tzis, and J-Ií ll), oral in te rpreta tion lextbooks joi n lhe bewildcred patri a rchal com munity o f medical scien ce to condemn it. But the body of the bysterical woman can be embraccd and celebra ted. For F rencb fem inists Cixous and C lemen t, the taran tella is the dance of tlle hysteric, and lhe p lace to invent a new voc~bulary of writing ami performin g the body (172). Erupting the bewil dered gaze in él scopic eco nomy requi res looking at the hysterical woman in a new way, as briJliant " spectacle, l1l usíc, acroba tics, abreaction" (20). T he exha usted end of the 1aran tella d a nce is a lso the end of this \.:clebration; the cure, the return of normalcy, is to Icave lhe risk of "the oanger 01' the booy that is finally released" (22). The eno of the cclebration 01' tbe body " is to settle down again un der a roof, in a house, in t he ramily circle of kin shi p ano marriage; and it is to return to the men 's world : the ce lebration is indeed over" (22). Tbe citations o f hysteria creatco in oral iTl terpretation textbooks write/right the body il110 a perf orma ti ve and theoretical hOllse, fll m ished in bag lady shambles, a site o f women's work in a man 's \Vorld .

Ihl' "Wl'llllg" hnuy ill perlo l'lll a m;c is consi s tcntly a m.l co nslunl ly I'eferred lo , OV hU lh 13awlI ;JIlU Lec , as "ill tl'lISI VC," a body th a t "gets in lhe way 01'" the li": 1a ry tex!. T hc I.:llll(k01 na lion 01" bodil y excess and inapproprialeness, howcvcf. is vigorou:.ly m oralistic and hortatory wh en wom an as/is perlonn er

is l he f()c ll~ 01' their eva lua livc admon itions. "Exhib itionism " (Lee 3S0), "dik:tla llli~11l ami alTectation " (Lec 8), " burlesque" (Bacon, Arl 172), an d "to ur

lk lim.:c" (Baco n, An 172, 31 1) are load ed lerms for femi nist aesthetics. W hen ph ysical activi ty is labellcd " illogical if not ludicrOlls" ( Lee 387; Bacon , Arl 15, 172), a nu the pcrformer is accu sed of being "tem pted to charm or impress Ilhe l a udicncc" (Lec 3S0), t he performer/woman is a powerful si te/sight for a l'll llcOI'dance 01' issues regarding po wer, identi ty, and sexual politics. hn the audience, this intrusive and excessive body produces a continu um nI' res po nses : "embarrassmen t" (Lee 381), " an amusing spectacle" (Lec 39 1), "lIllplcasantly noticeable" (Lee 4(2), " total confusion 01' uncontrollable mirth" (l.lX 335). "Most audiences dra w back from the purely memorized picce"; Bacon contcTlds, "and the attention fa lls too heavily upon the interpreter" (A r t 105). The rclationshi p belween performer/woman and audience is one that condones yet challen ges patriarchal assumptions and conventions. A t once cmbarrassing, laughable, and amusing. woman as/is performer recall s N ick G rccn's contention that a woman auting is li kc a dog dancing (Woolf 56). Ami at the same time , wom an as/is performer is a site of power that confron ls the audience-as-voyeur wi th an object that is tokl to resist objectifica tion . The height of excess 01' the "wrong" body is lack of control: moments of cxccss of emotiona lism, exhibited by bodily functions (tears and choking), and lack of communication. For Lee, this moment is metaphorized as sexua l: "As soon as [s]he embarks on an emotional orgy, tlle audicnce becomes uneasy and embarrassed , for lhe emotion no longer belongs to the character bUI to the interpreter" (381) . F or Broo ks , Bahn, and Okey, tean; mark the "wrong" body for a host of reasons: Suddenly the interpreter breaks into tears. [S]he loses control. In so doing [s]he has pro bably lost h[er] ability to comment on the litcrature as an observer, [s]he has probably lost h[er] perspective on the parts 01' the literature, [s]he has probably lost h[er] ability (for the moment at least) to continue to communicate, and [s]hc has probably usurpcd the functi o n 01' the listeners by doing fo r them wha l th ey should have ill1agil1ed for t hemsel ves. M o st significant, howcvc r, [sJhe has focu$ed attention on l he r]scl r ralher than o n lhe literaturc. (48)

Tln: imu~'.l' 01 ttl\! wlilnf " Ihldy il1 pcrfMmancc out 01' con trol, cxccs­ NIVC, clIHl tioll:d l' . I 1l; lI d '¡, 1)1111 1 tlH' Ir y:-;t cric: "l lystcl il's a re fla lllh"YIIIlI,

1 ';: ·'

Performance as women's work Artífice, lie, deception , snare- - these are the kinos ofjudgments society confers upon the tableaux, the scenes, the dramas, the pantomimes produced by thc hysteric. (Iriga ray , Specu/um 125) " Don ' t cry. Please don't cry. I can 't stand it when yo u cry," he pleads . Whether George and G racie, Desi and Lucy, or Sam and D iane, this he versus she mise en scenc takes a necessary, comic turn and avoids the frightenin g plunge ¡n10 hysteria. The replacemcnt, however- the smiles and kisses after cOllcession- is an equally dangerous manifestation: perfimning wOl1lan. T he present and future of woman as/is performer are burdeneo with the legacy 01' past performances , but it is a patriarchal legacy that has not becn sufficiently problematized as the presence 01' absence of sexual diffe rence and re presentation in performance studies historiography . The story told here from the margins begins to " unravel" and "rethink" the ways in which gender I'unctions lo slIstain what we thi nk we know a bout perform ance hislory. Stage pcrfonna nccs 01' ac tresslreaders challenged the sight of wom all o n stagc in a d u p lid lOlls ~ l)IlC(l rJaI1Ce 01' glamo r. gra ce, and grea t id ea ls. Public perform­ allce ¡I r li ll'I:lIIIIl' hC I!.an in a " nc Ll lcrcd " ZU Il C belwecn ucling wo rna n and :l .)

1'!lI(H)RMANC '1I

~P\.':I" II Il:' W\llIIall 1 hl.."lIl.dpl¡I\' II ~C~ 01' C I ~ICllli\H I W\I\.' W\1I110n's prm:lÍl:cs: !1 l1 hlk ~ ;1I 1cIH)" llf il'lI lidl' hody ;lI1d voicc. sen limen ta l "wc\!pics:' womcn 's

lid",.\' Id /I'l '.\' , ami cu uc¡¡ti ul1 hl1l il'ons. Thc domin an cc 01' women as lcachers illld sllHJel1 b ofeloculi nn was apolitidzed as popularity, and comlemncd as a ~piri lu all ¡jck . T he nClIlered performa nce zone became the minor l\nI Hbili lil~s anll n:s plln:¡i hili tics fami li ar to w h il~. l11idd lc..class womell.

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tinns of lhc performc r's role" (pelits ami VanOosling 225); "oral interpreta­ lion 11{lt only lakes place in a social con text. As c1early and powerfull y, it also cOlIslitulcs a socia l contracl" (Langellier. " Fo rum " 122); "a performing art ... can notJrish ¡¡nd rev italize character ... aJlowi ng comm unily members to lake conlrol 01' thcir Qwn lives" (Capo 34). This fosteri ng role, so typical of women's work in the family and in society, is valorized as a needed aesthetic anlidote to positivism, apoliticism, and postslructuralism (Paul Campbell; Capo; DeeU) . Like the nineteenth-cenlury's "true" woman, performance studies "mitiga tes the harsh ncss and cmelty and vulga rity oflife everywhere" (Marshall 569). The hue and cry for performance (and for wome n's wo rk) arises al ti mes 01' change and crisis: "our world has never before cried out so needflllly for undcrstanding among us al!. Never has a sen se of tbe other seemed more crucial for our own humanity" (Bacon, "Oral and Elhn ic" 97). Moreo vcr, performance studies as a corrective and enabling force seeks o ut the marginalized and voiceless in our society, " the elderly, elhnic minorities, women , lhe handicapped , the imprisoned" (Capo 34). Like the nineteenth­ century's " true sister of charity ... she may glide lhrough the walls 01' hos­ pitals and steal inlo the hovel of pen ury. and minister at the beds 01' sickness and pain " (q td. in Ryan , O 'odle 188). As molders of voices, people, and politics, lhe ideology of performance studies never strays far from the bounds of women 's work and the aesthetic margins of communication. The bag lady of performance occupies the margins 01' academ ic production for she, 1ike Io n, "can makc no first-ha nd daims to knowledge" (Conq uergood 25). Unlike Ion, " Úle botlom man in the epistemological pecki ng order," she has no alternative but la perform. An d her performances, hysterical or deliberate, are confused and conlradicted within disciplinary discourse. With one hand, performance studies embraces fe minine sides of dia1ectic orders­ nature/body/orality/process. But \Vilh the other hand, the loving embrace turns to violent grip, as performance studies aspires to transform the diaJcctic order into the masculine of culture/mindl1iterary/product. This confusion is mani­ fested in th e ca reful patrol 01' performance; the nego tiation and redistribution 01' power among performer, text, and audience are in constant tension. Locat­ ing the power of the performance in the performer is an historically, cultur­ ally, and aesthetically frightening strategy, for the excesses of performer as/is woman are abundant, dangerous, and subversive. The process and prod ucts 01' that creative aet \ViII ult imately be condemned and marginalized : Wom an's special form ofneurosis would be to ' mimic' a \York ofart, to be o had ( ClIpy) 40 \Vo/'/( 4(11'/. Iler neurosis wo uld be reeognizet1 as a counterfeil or parody of (In artistic process . It is transformed in to an ac:.t hetic o bject, but one withoul value, which has to be con­ demncJ hcculIsc it is a{org('ry. (I riga ra y. S/)('culum 125) 255

l ' I H I N l' A 1 I !I N S 1\ NI} l llll I N I 1 It. N <;

"WOfll.: n havc ncw r inven led any thmg bul wea ving," Freud/lrigaray rcmiJld US, "w hcncc Lhe im p(Jrtance slle vests in fabrics a nd doth to cover herse lf with" (1 riga ray, Speculum 115). The bag lady of performance dreams o f danc­ ing the tarantella in a celeb ration of woma n's abundance. Bu l for now, d ressed in woven rags, she limps on, shouting the .silenced body .

Notes Because Ihis essa y focuses 0 11 iss ues of representalion amI ,ide nlity in performance sl'udies history, it does not problcmat izc thc bodies of"rea l" wo men in their materia l a nd eco nomic d iffe rences. Nor does it read sexua l difference in perform a nce history in te rms o f hQmosex ua li ty fro m th e perspectives ol' ga y and lesbia n st udi es. 2 But doc ume ntation and a nalysis of this "don¡jmll1ee" of wo men in performance history remain to be done. T he inclus io n of a fe w t' great women pe rformers" and the presence of women in speeeh educatio n does not constilute a full historical record; such a n analysis is invited .

Rcferences Allen, Robert C. H orrible Preuill ess: Burlesque in Americal1 CullUre. C hapel Hi ll : U of No rth Ca ro lina, 1991. A rmstrong, Ca ro l M . "Edgar Degas and the Represenlation of th e Fema le Body.·' T/¡e Fel11(/le Body in Wes/em C:ul/ure: CO I1/el1lporary Perspec/i l'es. Ed. Susan R . Suleiman . Cambrid ge: Ha rvard UP, 1985.223-,242. Baco n. Wa llace. Th e Ar/ o/ llllerprewliol1 . 2n d ed . New York: Ho lt, Ri nehart a nd W in ston. 1966. . "T he Inte rpreta tion 01' Ora l a nd Et hnic Materi als: The Et hi ca l Dimension. " U/era/ure in Pe~jormal1 ce 4 ( 1984): 94- 97. Barker, Franeis. Tite Tremulou.l' Privu/e Body: Es'\"ays 011 Suhjec/iol1. London: Methuen,

1984.

Bassuk, Ellen L. "Thc Rest Cure: Repet itio n or Resolution of Victo ria n Women's Confl icts?" r ile Female Body il1 We.l'/ern Cul/ure: COIl/empomry Per.l'pec/i ves. Ed. Susa n R. S ulcima n . Ca mbrid ge: Harvard UP, 1985. 1J9 - 151. 8crgn , John. Ways oI Seeil1g. London : Pcng uin, 1912. IkrnarJ . R ichard and Ma ris Vinovs kis. "Thc rcmale School Teacher in Ante-Bellum Massachusetts." J ourn((1 oI Social H i.I·/O/)' 10 (1977): 332- 45. Br~~o k s, Keith , E ugene Ra hn , and L. La Mo nt Okcy. The Commul1ic({/ive Au ol Oral In/aprew/iof1. Bosto n: Allyn and Ba con, 1967. BUll er, Judith . Gender Trouble: Femini.l'/17 ((/1(I/h e SII/JI'ersiOI1 o/ Menú/y. Ncw York: Ro utl cdgc. 1990. 'a l11pbcll. Karlyn Ko hrs. Ml/l1 CUlillO/ ,)'p eu/( jár Her: A Critical SlUdv o( E((rz)! 1'('lIIill i,I'/ R lle /oric. Vol. l. New York: Greenwood, 1989. ( 'alllpbelL Pa ul N. Omlll1l erprew/ioll. New York: Macmillan . 1966. ('apo, Ka y Ellc ll . " Pc rrorlllancc of Litera ture as Social Dia lectic." L ilem/llre in JI"/'¡imll(/I1I'{' 4.1 (198:1): 31 - 36. . ¡[lid D: lrlc nc M , Il unl zis . "( En)Gcndered (un d End¡lIlge n:L! ) Subjects: W rilin g, Rc;¡ d ill¡.t. jlurlúrlll ing, alld T hco rizi ng Femi nist CriticisII I " J1'1 / IJ/ld PerjimlUiI /(',' II/I/''''''¡I' 11 (J()"J) : ~41) ") (¡(, .

"1(\

l' I! RI " I~ M ANt ' "

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Cusc. Su.: 1 ~ lkll . ed. /'('1:/11/'111;11,1: Fi:lllilli.l'/II.I': F ('lIIill i,I'/ Cri/icl/l Tlf('or)' (/1111 '/'l/m/re. Ba ll ill1o re: Jo hll!i H op kin ~ Up, 1'NO. Cixo us, I lclenc. "T he La ug h o r lhe Medusa. " N c ll' Frene/¡ Feminisms. Ed. E. M arks and l . (]e Courti vron . N ew Yo rk : Schocken, 198 1. 245 - 264. - -o" Sorties." N ell' Fl'ench Feminism s. Ed . E. Ma rks an d l. de Courti vro n. New Yor k: Schockcn, 198 1. 90- 98 . - - and C athe rine Clement, The N elVly 8 01'/1 Wonwl1. Trans. Bctsy W ing. Minneapoli s: U of M innesota P, 1986. Conq uergood. D wight. "Comm unica tiOll as Perfo rma nce." The J ellsen L eclures: CO I1 ­ /emporal'y COl1lll1unic(//io/1 S lUdies . EJ. Jo hn 1. Siseo. T a mpa: U of South F lo rida , 1983.24- 43. Covennan , S helley W . "Wo men's Work is Ne ve r Do ne: T he Div ision 01' Domest ic Labor." Women: A Feminis/ Perspeclil'e. Ed . J. F reema n. Mo untain View. CA: Mayfield, 1989.356- 370. de Bea uvoir, Simone. "I ntroduction. " Th e Second Sexo Tra ns. and Ed. H. M. Parshley. New Yo rk: Bantam, 1952. Deetz, Sta nley. "T he Politics 01' rhe Oral l nterpretat io n of Litera ture." D /era/I/re ;/1 Perjón nance 4.1 ( 1983): 60 - 64. Doanc, Ma ry All n. "The C linica l Eye: Medica l D i scour~cs in th e 'Woma n's Fi lm' of the 1940s." T lle Fenwle Body in Weslern Cut/u re: Conlemp orary Perspeclives. Ed. Susan R . Suleiman. Camb rid ge: Harvard U P, 1985 . 152- 174. Edwards, Pa ul C. "The R ise of ' Expression.''' Perjim17al1ce afU/eralure in H is/orical Perspec/i ves, Ed. David W. T hompson. Lanham : UP or America, 1983.529- 548 . Ferri s, Lesley. Ac/ing WIJ/1/en: ¡muges of Women in Thcalre. New York: New Yo rk UP,1989. Foucault, M ichel. Discipline amI PUllislt: Th e B i,.,1t uf/he Pri.l'oll. T rans. A la n Shcridan . New Yo rk: Methuen , 1979. - -o Madn ess uf/d Civilizulion. Trans. Rich ard Howa rd. New York: Ra ndom. 1965. F ox, Mary Frank. "Women a nd Hlgher Education: Gender Differences in th e Status of Stude nts and Scholars ." Women : A Fe./I/inisl Perspec/i ve. EJ. J. F reeman. M OUll­ tain Vicw, C A : Mayfield , 1989.2 17- 235. Fraser, An to nia . Tit e Weuker Vessd New Yo rk : Knopf, 1984. Freeman , Jo, ed . WO/llen: A Femin.is1 Perspec/i ve. 4th cd , Mo untain View, CA: Mayfield , 1989. r reedma n, Barba ra . " Feminism, Psychoa na lysis, Theatre. " Perjórming Feminis/I1s: Feminis l CriliCllI TIIeor)' al7d Theo/re. Ba ltimore: Joh ns Hopkins U P, 1990. 54- 76 . Freud, Sigmund. Dora: An Al7alysis o/ u Case (J/ Hys/eriu. Ed . Philip Rierf. New York: Colller, 1965. F rye r, Judith . "'The Body ill Pain' in T homas Eak ins' Agnell' Clinic." The rell1ale Bud)' in Wes/el'll CullUre: COI7 /emporary Perspec/il'es. Ed. Susan R . Su leiman. Cam bri d¡(e: Han'a rd UP. 1985 . 2:15 - 254, Fuoss, Kirk . Darlenc Hantzis, an d Randall I-li ll. "Hysteria (U n)cha ined: Argume nt, Dialogue, Hnd Pre/ab/sent Voiees, 0 1' Performing Babb lin g Texts." Spcech Com­ mun ication Association Con venlioll. C hicago , November 1990. Gasle r. ThcoL!orc 11. The,lpis: R ilual. "'~l'l h (j1U1 Drama ill /he A ncien / Neo r Eust . Ne w Yo rk: No rl on , 1()50. ¡eigcr, Do n. TlI" ,.. .·II/IIIr!. S('//.I·,'. 1/1/{1 Pl'rfimlllll/('e ot' U/ eral//re. Chicélgo: Scott, Fnn':sll\an , 196.1, ' ~/I

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I'lltllIl{MAN"I: lil ' IJ\'1IHS AS WUM I' N ' s WOI{K

lll:nlí l\!. Jol lII S . (" 1,1'1 (!/ O",,, O"'· 1'1'1',\ 011,)'11011'.\'/;'0111 lit,· { '/¡'IIII "'lflllll 1'llIltimll lo 1/1(' {JI' O Udll 'IIY S llIgI ·. l lrhalla: I J o f IIlílloís p. 1(¡S9. Gí lbcrt. Salltl m M "
Lec, C'harlnllc L Orallll/clpr('/a/iOlI. Uoslon: Il ollghton M ifllill , I')S:!,

La mcr. Gerd a . ed. lite Ft'/Ill1le /:-'xpcríel/cc: /In Ameri('(/n J)oculI/entary. Ncw York:

Ox ford UP. 1992. - -o T'lIe ¡Hajori/y Finds l/s PaSI. New Yo rk: Ox ford UP, 1981. Ma cl)o nald, S ILlart. The His/ory !lnd Philo,\'op¡'y oI/lr / Educa/iol1. London: U of London P, 1970. M alpede. K aren. ed. Women ;/1 Theo/re: C0Il1I)(J.~si(l11 alUJ H ope. Nt:lw Y ork: Dnuna Book, 1983. M arks, Elaine and Isabelle de Co urti vro n, eds . N ell' Frene/¡ Feminisms. New York: Schocken , 1981. Marshall , Susan E. "Keep Us on the Pedestal : Wo men A gainsl Feminism in Twent.ieth-C entury America.'· Women: A Femin i.l'l Per,lj)ec/ive. Ed . J o Free man. Mo untain Vic\\', C A: M ayfield, 1989.567- 580. Mowa tt , A nna Cora. AUfohiogl'llphy 01' an A c/ress; 0 1', E igh/ Years (In /lte S Iage . Boston: T icknor alld Fields, 1854. M ul vey, Laura. Visual alld O /h er PleaslI/'es. Bloomington: Indiana UP. 1989. Nin , Ana·ls. Delia o/ Venus. New Yo rk : Harcourt Brace Jo vanovich , 1969. Oben. Tillie. Si/mees. New Y ork: Delacorte, 1978. Pao. Augela. "The Eyes of the Storm: Gend e r. G e me, and C ross-C asting in Miss Saigol1." Tex/ !lne! Peljorrnance Quar/erly 12 (1992): 21 - 39 . Pelias, R o nald J. ane! J ames VanOost ing. "A Paradigm for Pe rformance Studies." Quarterly ./ournal 01' Speech 73 (1987): 21 9 231. Peterson, E ric E. " R epresentation and the Limi ts of Interpretation " Lilera/ure in Perfórnwnce 4.1 (1983): 22- 26 . Re ynolds. Nyd ia Joan. " A Historical StLldy of th e Oral Interpretation Activitics of the C hautauq ua Circuit , 1904 to 1932. " Diss. U of Southern C alifornia , 1960. Rich , Adrietlne. Blood, Bread. ol1.d Poe/ry. N ew Y ork: W . W . N ortoll, 1986 . Robb, Mary Ma rga ret. O/'{// In/erpre/a/ion (JI L i/era/ure in Americon College,l" ane! 'niversities_ New Yo rk : Johnson , 1968. R oloff, Leland 11 . a nd Jo hn C. Hollw itz. " Performance and the Bod y: G ilbert A ustin and Franvois De!sarte." Peljórmal1ce oI Li/erafUre i/1 HiS lOrical Perspec/íl'es. Ed. Dnvid W. Thompson . La nham: UP of America, 1983.477- 496. Ryan, Mary P. Cradle (J! /h e lHiddle Class: The Family in Oneida COUnly, N e ll' York. 1790- 1865. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981. - -o Women in Puh/ic: Be/lVeen BOlllzer.\' al1d Bal/o/s, IN25- 1NNO. Bnltimore: J o hus H o pkins UP, 1990. Sivier, Evel yn M . "English Poets, Teachers. and Festi vals in a ' G olde n Age of Poetry Speaking,' 1920- 1950." Per/órmance 01' Literalure in JJis rorical PNspl'c/ivi'S. Ed. Dav id W . Tho mpson. La nham : UP of Amcrica, 1983.283 -·300. Spitzack. Carol and Kathryn C a rter. "Wornen in COInmUnicélti oll Studics: ¡\ T ypo­ logy for Revi sion ." Quar/er/y .fournal ol'S'peech 73 (1987): 401 4n. Spivak , Ga yatri. Di.\ placemen/: Derrida amI Afi('/'. Bloomington: Indiulla UP , 1983. StalIybrass. Pe tcr a nd Allon W hite. '/'he Poli/ies (/1/(1 Poe/íes 01' Transgression. 1.on­ don: Me th uen, 1986. Stant on. Eliz.a bclh Cady. lITe Wmna/1's Bih/e. Vol. 1. 1895. New York: A rno , 1972. Sk b bil1 s. E mma . C!tar/ol/e e l/sll/l1an. Boston: 1I 0ughto n . Osgood , 1987. Slrinc, M a ry S US
277. Grimke, Sarah M . L ellers on /he E qllalily oIlhe Sexes (I/1(I/h e: ('O/ulilion o/ W011101l. 1838. Ncw York: B urt Fra nkü n. 1970. Haas , R icha rel and David A. WilJiams , eds. Th e SIlI(~V or Oral In/i'rpre/a/ion: T heory (ln d C()Il1Inel7l. India napolis: Bobbs-Me rrill. 1975. Hamera , JlI dith . "On Reading, W riting , and Speaking thc Politics 01' (Self-) Re­ presentatíon. " T exl a/1(1 Per/órmance QIII/I'lerly :lO (1989): 235 - 247. Haraway. Donna. " Ecce Homo, Ain't (Ar"n't) 1 a Woman, and J nappropriate/d Others: The Human in a Pos t-I-I umaJüst Landsca pc." Feminisls Theorize /he Polil­ ¡m!' Ed. Judith Buther and Joan W. Scott. New Y o rk: Ro utledge, 1992.86- 100. - o Prirl/a/e Vision.\'. New Y ork: R outledge, 1989. --o Silllions, Cyborgs, and WO/nen: The Rein ven/ion (¡/Nalure. New York: Ro utledgc, 199 1. Heston, Lil la. "Earl y G raduat e Edueation : Mi chigan, Nort bwestern , Wiscollsin. ·' Pel!ormance oI Liura/ure in H is/orü:al Perspeclivi's. Ed. D avid W . Thompson . Lanham: Uf> of America , 1983. 317- 358. Iri ga ray, Luce. Speculu/n of'lhe Other WO/nan. T ran s. Gillian C. G ill. Ith acü: Cornell P. l985.

- -o" T his Sex W hich

is Not One." N e lv Freneh Fenúnisms. Ed . E. Marks a nd J. de Co urtivron . N ew York: Schoeken, 1981. 99- 106. Jacobus , Ma ry. E velyn Fox K eller, and Sally Shuttlewortb. eds. BodyIPolilic.\': Women al/(Ilhe Disco urses of' S cience. New York: Routledgc , 1991. Jamiesoll , K athlecn Ha ll. Eloquence in (In Eleclronic Age: The Tmnsjórll1aliol1 o/ Poli/ ieal Speechlf/akillg. Ne w Y ork: Oxford U P, 1988. Kasso n, John F. Amu.I'ing lhe Mi!lion: Con ey Island al Ihe TI/m 01' /he Cen/ury. New Yo rk : Hill and Wn ng, 1978. - -oRlldenes.\' ({nd Cil'ility: Malll1ers i/1 Nine/een/h-CenLUrv Ur{¡an Americtt. Ne\\' York: Hill ,LIld Wang. 199(). Kemble, F rances A nll. Recordl' o/ LaLer Li/e. New Y ork: lIen ry Ilolt , 1882. Langellier, Kristi n M. " Doing Decon struction: Sexuality aml l nterpretation." Li/er­ a/ure i/1 Pa/órmal1ce 4.1 (1983): 45 - 50. - - o "Forum: Cross-Gender Perfo rmance. " LileralUre in Per/árm(//1ce 1:>.1 (1988): 120 122. -

- o Kathryn Carteroand Darlene Hantlis. " Performing Differel\l;es: FcminislIl and Performance Sl udics. ·' Tm llsjimning Visiol1s: Fel/lin i.l'I Cri/iq/l(,,\' ill 8f/('('('11 ('0/11' munica/ion. Ed. S . Pc rl mu ttcr Bowcn
' 51<

'1 '1

I'fll l ND,\ 'llnÑS A NI. 111 IINIIIUN ." ( '01///1/1"/1/,,/",/1, ' Ih( ' 75 1h . I//II/I·j·r" ,I/T O / 'lit.. ,'"'"¡!t,,·, 'h 1':<1. { iClólld M. Pil illips an J J~¡Jia T. Wood. C'urbondale : SOllthern IlIil1 oi ~ lIP . 1 990. I~I 204. Sule iman , Susan R lIbin , cd. Thc Fem{de Body il1 Wesl ern Cullure: COl1lemrlorary Pel".lpeClil>es. Cambr.idge: H arvard UP, 1985. Thompson, David W. "Earl y Aetress- Readers: Mowatt, Kemble, and Cushman. " PeljiJrma/1ce o/ L ileralllre in !listo/"ical Perspeclil'es. Ed. D avid W . Tho mpsol1. Lanham: UP 01" Ameliea. 1983.629- 650 . - - , ed . Pe/.!ónnance ofUlerolure in Histo riad P erspeclives. Lanham: UP of A merica , 1983. Valent ine, K. O. " ' New C riticism ' and the Emphasis on Li teratme in Interpretatioll." PCI:!ármon fe of U leraLUre in flis lor¡col Perspeclivcs. Ed . D avid W. Thompson. Lan ham: UF of Ameriea, 1983. 549 ···566. Wol1'r, Jémet. Femininf Sel1/,eI1Cfs: Es'\"ays 0/1 WO/11er/ (lI1d Cullure. Berkeley: U of California P, 1990. Woolf, Virginia. A Room o( Ol1f"s 01\'11. New York: Il areoure Brace, and World, 1929. Woody. Thomas. A /lisIOf)' o( WO/1/el1 's Educolion in (he Unil ed Sta/,es. Vol. 1. New York: Octagon, 1966.

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260

Part 2

ELEMENTS AND

CIRCUMSTANCES OF

PERFORMANCE

15

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SP ECT ATORS T RANSPORTE O

A N D TRANSFORMED

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By using mask s, costumes, and physical actio ns arranged in a set way. u r illl ­ provised accord ing to known rules; by perfo rming foll owing a script, sccna rio , or set of rules; by performing in special places or places made special by performing in them ; by performing on holidays or at times set aside " after work" or at crises in lhe life t ycle such as initiations, wedd ings , and funerals: by all these means, and more. theatJ'ieal rea lity is marked " no n-ordi nary- for speciaJ use onl y." F urthermore, what is performed is encoded- l wan t to say nested, trapped, contained, distilled, held, restrained , metaph o rized - in one, or more, special kinds of communication: either as a mixtu re 01' narrative and Hindu temple service aS in Ramlila; or as tixed narrative and individual creati vi ty as in any o f the productions of, say, Ch ekhov 's Tlle Che!'!'y Orchard; or as a well-known seq uence of events better known to connoisseurs than to common spectators as in the kuse mai of the Noh drama Yorimasa as per­ formed by the Kanze school; or as c10sely guarded secrets revealed to initiate.s during the perfo rmance itself as in the vom iting and bleeding that is part of the initiatioD ofGahuku boys in Papau - New G uinea; 01' as a script imposed by a single writer-director-scenographer such as with R ichard Foreman's Pail1(t); or as wOrds and actions devi sed collectively as with M y sleries al1d Smaller Piecc.\· of The Living Theatre; or as él scenario sent to h undreds 01' peop1c, some of them friends, some strangers. to be acted (or discarded) scparateJ y, and in many different styles, by recipients 01' one 01' AlIan Kaprow's ha ppenings. T hjs Homeric list mGly exhaust yo u, reader, but not the field. T hcy are mere smatterings of evidence of the incredible diversity 01' perform­ ance events. A nd I have poin tedly om itted even ts li ke t he Mass , professional IÚ ,~ lbaJ I. psychodram a. whirlin g dervishes in devotion , Sumo wres lling: a wide vilri\!ly 01' pcrformative rituals, games, sports, and hard-to-deflnc activities 263

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lha t lie bClwccn 0 1' OubiJe csla hli sh~J gcnrcs. A tkl ull , "\!stabli -;hcd gelllc" indica tes a record o f what hm, fo uno its place. whi\e performa nce acll vitics a re fu ndamenta ll y p rocessuaJ: thcre will alwa ys be a eertai n proportion 01' lhcm in the process of transfomultion, categorieally un defi nable. Bul all perfonna nccs i efined and undefineJ - share al least one underl ying q uality. Perfo rmance behavior isn't free and easy. Performa nce behav io r is knowLl an d/or pracliced behavior- or " twice-beha veJ behavi or," "resto red behavior" '- either re­ hearseo , previ o usly kn own , lea rned by osmosis since early childhood, re vealed durin g lhe pe rforma nce by mastcrs, guides. gurus, or clders , or generated by ru les tha t govem the outcomes as io im provisato ry lhealer or sporls . Bccausc performa nce behavi o r isn' t free amI easy it never wholl y "bcl o ngs to" Ihe perfo rmer. In E uroAmerican theater (Stanislavski anJ after) m UL.: b 01' lhe work o f truining a nd rehearsal makes perfonnancc behavior seem " as if " it belongs to the performer. Beca use the very best that ca n happen is to have the actor completely carrieo away by the play . Then regardless of his o wn will he lives the part , not noticin g hO lV he feel s, not thinking about whal he does, and it all moves of its own accord , subconsciously and intuitively. 2 Bul Stanislavski well knew that this ki nu of intuitive How is unreliable . Thus the "Stanislavski system" is largel y devoted to training the actor so that How can be generated through a conseious process. But such a seamless kn itting of lhe " Jife o f " the character and that of the actor is not the goal of all theater everywhere. In the W est, Brecht distru sted it, bul Brecht himselfmodeled his ideal actor- one who alternated betwecn ftow and reftexivity , between " being the charaeter" and speaking about the charactcr--after what he had learned of Asian theater, especia ll y C hinese theater. And in the Ramlila of Ramnaga r, Indi a's best-known Ramlila , the directors of the spectaclc, the I'yases, stand behind the performers, open regiebuchs in hand , correcting words and actions: mak ing certain that everything happens according to the book. lnterestingl y, the crowds a t R amlila are not tro ubled into supposing that the actions of Rama or H anuman are any less " real " due to the p resence of the vyases. or eve n the ir intervention. But c1early the "Iife of" R ama and ll anuman in ter­ seet but clre not identieal to the "Iife of" the actors. Like the presence 01' director-author T Kantor during the performances 01' his The Dead Clas.I' where Kantor makes slight adjustments in the performance by lowering a performer's hand , or whispering to another to speed up the delivery of some lines- the eorrections 01' the performance become part 01' the performa m:e. The stage- and 1 don ' l mean only the physical place. but Ihe time/space/ speeta tor/perfo rme r aggregate--genera les a centripetaJ field lh al gobblcs up wha tever hap pens on it or nea r il. T h is absorplÍoll ¡nto lhe cenler is the chier parallel bctween perfornl ance process und ritua l prlléCss: it's wha l Ka l'ka mean t wl lcn he wrol~' lhe mini -pLlrLlhl e:

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I.e(¡panb hrcuk i1ltll tlt\: le m»l\: a lld d rinJ.. l O Ihe dn.:gs w hat is in the su\: ritidal piLchers; Ih is is repca leu over and owr again; liHally it can b~ culc ulated in ad vancc, and it becomes pa rt 01' (he cerclTlony. ' Arter so me performances Kantor's correclions became precl ictable; people wh o saw The Dead ('/ass many Limes say that K antor's gestures are no lo nger free but part ofthe performance score. But eve n the in te rvening- when-needed, and therefore unp redictable , actions of l he vyases at R amlila are part nf the perfo rmance score just as the ot:ficials moving in and out 01' a footba ll gam interve ne only when there is an infraction but still play decisive a nd well ­ defi ned roles in th e ga me. As Ka fka says, accidents become part of lhe ceremony, even adujng a specia l thrill. D uring the 1980 Ringli ng Brothers C ircus at Madi son Squa re Garuen, a trapczc a rtist attelllpts to rise fro m a positi o n where sh e is ha ngin g by her ankles, She starts, hesitates, reaches, almos! fa lls. The music stops, th e crowd gasps- if she cannot rcaeh the bar she wi ll drop fo rty feet. F inall y, inching her way up , grabbing her left forearm with her right ha nd , she reaches the bar. The music crcscendos. the crowd sighs rel ief a no then cheers. The whole bit is repeated each show. II d oesn't malter whether this bit actually ha ppened once and then was kep t as b usiness, 01' whether it was invented wholesale. 1t is now "eaJclllated in ad vance" : part ofthe show. A nd each show- oftheater, sports, rituaJ.--is a pali m psest collecting, or staeking, and d isplaying wh atcver is, as Brecht says, " the leasl rejected o f aH the things tried." But the performance process is a eont inllous rejecting a nd replacing. Long-runnin g sh ows-and certainly rit ua l::; a re these- are not Jead repeti­ tions but continuous erasings and superimposings. The o ve rall shape of the shoVv' stays the same, but pieces of business are always coming and going. This process of coHecting amI discardi ng, of selecling, orga nizing, and show­ ing, is what rehearsals are aH abo ut. And it 's not such a rational , logical­ linear process as writing abou l it makes it seem.lt's not so m uch a thought-out system of trial and error as it is a pla ying aroun u with themes, actions, gestures , fantasies , words: whatever's being ."orked on. From all the doing, some things are done again and again; they a re perceived in retrospect as "working," and they are " kepL " They are, as it were , thrown forward in time to be used in the " finished performance. " The pe rformance "takes shape" little bit by little bit , building from the fragments of " kept business" so t hat often the final scene of a show will be clear before its first seene·--or specil'ic bits will be perfected before a sen ~e 01' the overall producti on is known. T hal is why the text of a play \ViII tell yo u so little about how a production mi ght look. The production doesn ' t "co me out" of the text , but is generateJ in rehearsal in an effo rt to " meee the text. A nd when you see a play (\ nl! recognile il as rallliliar you are referri ng back to earlier prod uclions, nOt lo the pla ysc ri pL AII lInprndllc~d pl ay is no t a hom unculus b ul a sha rd 01' an as yct unussl!llIhkd wllnk .

LI . IlMI(N 'IS ¡\NI! I I IU IIM S I /\NI I S tll ' " ¡¡fU ' "IOIAN!'I '

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I )urill g 11It! fUII 01' a pl ay 01' OVl:r Ihe Caklldl i~jll y II xcd ('IHlfSe ur lhe pcrforlllanccs 01' a filual ---even in Ihe mosl traditional gClltcs (J'vc seen Noh. Ramlila. Kathakali, and Balinese dance-drama do Ihis) new business is accu­ ll1ulated and stale business eJiminaled. A person going to a particular per­ formance only once, as is the habit in our culture, can ' t notice the process of continuo\.Js change. Someti mes, whc re a performance is frozen tigbt, it lakes grcat effort , and ceremony, to update the show: as when a Pope su mmons a Council to revise the Mass. But on the locallevel, the M ass is al ways bei ng adjllsted to suit the living relationship betwccn priest and parishioners. This rdationship is as much one between performer and participating spectators as between rcligious 1eader and faithful. Individual performal ive variation will be apprecialed even more wh en you reco gnize that a perfo rmance 01' the Mass far transcends the recitation of a set text: it invol ves the part icular élTld peculiar styles ofthe performers. And as \Vith the Ma ss, so with all ceremon ies/ rituals everywhere.

Ihe alldiclll'C SIlITl\: llIl1l'\ p ( 11111 1\ 111 ,1 11 IWI'lIly-li ve Ihllllsalld lisl ens WI1h ca ré Illally hl'll l'V\' tl l\: pCl lIlIlllcr playillg Narad-Illlllli has powers lillkin g hilll lo lh e sa glA:hal acte r he plays. This mall is no longer called by his bOrll na me, nol even by hilllsclr. Over the thirly-five years he has performed Narad-mlllli he has increasingly becn identified \Vith the legendary sage. Ikcallse he is a Brahmin, and any Brahmin can perfonn priestly ceremonies, Narad began sorne years ago to practice priestcraft. Now he is th e l11ahanl­ owner and chicf priest~ f two temples in Mirzapure, a city a b ou t forty miles from Ram nagar. He is rich . People come from far away to his temples because they know Narad-muni speaks through Narad -priest. N arad neve r claims to be (\n inearn ation of Narad-muni. But each year at R amlila his connection to Narad-muni is renewed , displayed , deepened , and ritualized before an audience 01' thousands. This man is not Narad-muni, but also he is not not Narad-muni: he performs in the field between a negative and a double nega tive, a field of limitless potenti al, free as it is from both the person (not) and the person impersonated (not not). A II effective performances share this "not- not not" quality : Olivier is not H amlel, but also he is not not I laml et: his performance is between a denial of being another (= I am me) and a denial of not being another (= 1 am Ha mlet). Performer training focuses its techniques not on making one person into another, but in permitting the performer to act in-between identities; in this sense pcrforming is a paradigm of liminality. Jndian culture with its tradition of reincarnation encourages this kind of multiplication of impersonations. When the beautiful blaek god Krishna was desired by al1 of the gopis, he multiplied himself so that each woman had Krishna with her: this theme is a favorite 01' Jndian artists, both visual and performative, and forms the praxis-core 01' many kinds of Krishna \Vorship.6 And who is the "genuine" Hamlet? Olivier? Burton'l Bernhardt? Or Burbage, who played it first in J603'? Or a nameless English actor \Vho toured France even earlier in a lost play no\V known only as the ur-Ham/el? This question 01' multiple realities, each the negativity of al1 the others_ does not merely point to a peculiarity of the stage, but rather locates the essence of perform­ ance: at once the most concrete and evanescent of the arts . And insofar as performance is a main model for human behavior in general , this liminal , processual, multi-real quality reveals both the glory and the abyss of human rrcedom. Few are lhe performers who have experienced Narad 's transformation. Even at Ramlila most performers don 't get absorbed into their roles. This is 1101 to say the roles don ' t deeply affect the performcr' s lives. In approaching lh u village whe re t.l ll· l ~lll1il y WllO have played the demon-king R avana Iives, J \Vas lold lhal " Rava n-mj IKint' Ravan a ll ivcs over there ." E veryone knows Rava na: hc io.; ruya lly 1I 1l\I'fI¡' pl'a!'> a nts. T II\! ram ily has grown rich since the ti me in lite I XCII):., t1t,II ;J 1111d ,lll u'l \\ ,IS pl\: ked t hl'll llgh .tudilioll by the Mah araja M BCl w n:s lo play H.lVIIII.1 Álld olV\' 1 Ihe years Ihe silllati on of Ihal famil y

I wrote before that performing isn 't free and easy: it is behavior that is "pul on. " This is what gives theater its bad name. Theater is that art where the master teacher says , "Truth is wha t acting is all about; o nce you can fake Iruth you ' ve got it made ." Thi s is not a wholly cynical statement, as can be seen in the story Lévi-Strauss tells of Quesalid, a K wakiutl who wanted to expose the quackery of the shamans. 4 "Driven by curiosity about their tricks and by the desire to ex pose them , he began to associate \Vith the shamans until one of them offered to make him a member of their group. Quesalid did not wait to be asked t\Vice." He was thoroughJ y trained in acting, magie, singing; he learned how to fake fainting and fits, how to induce vomiting and lO employ spies who would tell hjm about the Iives ofhis patients. He learned how to hide a wad of down in the corner 01' his mouth ami then , biting his tongue or making his gums bleed. to produce this bloody evidence before patient and spectators as "the pathological foreign body extracted as a result ofhis sllcking and manipulations." Qucsalid mastered the art so well that he not only exposed the other shamans as qllacks but built a powerful repllta­ tion for himself as a true shaman. Over the years he began to believe in his cures , even though he always knew that they were based on tricks. But he reasoned that the ill got better beca use they believed in him , and they believed in him beca use he knew his art so \Vell and performed it so stunningly. Finally he thought of the bloody down and all his other tricks as manifestations 01' his own authcntic powers. As Lévi-Strauss says: "Quesalid did not become a great shaman becallse he cured his patients; he clIred his patients beca use he had become a great sha man." Qucsalid. li kc the Jeo pard s in Kafka 's pa ra ble , was absor bed into the field of his own performing. He waS tran sfo nncd in lo wha t he had gel o ut lo expose ..1 Allhe Ri.lmlila 01' Ra mnagur. Ind ia. ()nc of Ihe h~st ac lors is Ihe man who play:; th~ scmi-div inc 'lagé, Narad-I11UIli. Wh\!1l N,II, ,,I fllllI li spcaks I)r sings U)(l

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has ucconH: llJ ore a lld II 100 e a slllll'1l1ral alllillK' ~is 111 that 01' lhc boys wllo play Ra ma and his brOl hers, lllc protago llisls orlhl: Ramilla alld an:hcl1l:mics ofRavana, whose role is roughly analogous lo that orSatan in Paradi,\'(' Los/. The boys are picked by audition yearly; they mostly come from city families and are educatcd: arter their stint in Ramlila most en ter professions ranging from the priesthood to journalism and aCling. Du ring the thirty-one days of the eyc1e play the boys playing Ra ma a nd his brothers live in sec1usion in th ree different dharamsala s in Ramnagar- moving along with lhe play itself to different localions; Ra vana returns each night the several miles to h is native place: li kc his myth ie Lanka he lives a way fro m Ra ma. H anuma n, S ugriva, or any oftheir party. But at the climax of the cycle. wheo Ravan a is killed in battle by Rama, the perl'ormer signifies th is moment by ta king off his ten-headed mask and prostrating himself before Ra ma , kissing his feet. BUI again, 1 ask, who is doing the kissing? The actor with o ul his mask is doing devotion to the boy who, witb rus saered crown, is Rama-incarnate. .Bolh man and boyare "between perso nae," in that liminal, double-negative field where they are neither themselves nor their roles. And il' l'ew perl'ormers havc experienced Narad 's transformation. most have felt Ravan-raj 's ami Rama 's doubling: the sense of being taken over by a role, of being possessed by it­ in ils " flow," or in the flow ofthe audience's appetite for illusion: ludus, lila: play. This surrender to the fl ow of action is the ritual process. I-Iere it is that th e two root meanings of ri converge: the action is ordedy. even numerical~ "play it by the numbers" - but the sense of being in it is, as Csikszentmihalyi says, "the merging of action ami awareness. A person in flow has no dualis­ tic perspective: he is aware of his actions but not ol' the awareness itself. " 7 "The steps for expericncing Aow ... involve the ... process 01' delimiti ng reality, controlling some aspect 01' it, and responding to the feedback with a concentration that excludes anything el se as irrelevant:,g Or as Ryczard Cieslak , the great actor who performed in many of Grotowski's work s, told me: The score is like a glass inside which a cand1e is burning. The glass is solid; it is there. you can depend on it. It contains and guides the flame. But it is not the Hame. The flame is my inner proccss each night. The flame is what illuminates the score, what the spee­ tators see through the score. The flame is alive . J ust as the tla me in the glass moves, flutters, rises, falls , almost goes out , suddenly glows brightly , respond s lo eaeh breath of wind- so my inner life varíes from night lo night. rrom momen! LO moment. . .. I begin eaeh níght with oul an licipalions. Th is il) lhe hanJelil Ihi ng In ICélrn. I Jo nol prepa re myselr 10 fed anylh ing. I Jo 11\)1 sayo "Lasl tli¡; lrt. this sccnc was cX l raonJinaly, I will Iry lo dt) Iha l lll1,lll1 " I wa ll l u nly tn he

x

1 R" N S l ' 1111 1 .\ I In N ,\ N n

1 It '\ N 1\ I tll( M " l ' 10 N

Il'l'Cpt ivc to wlr al wllllr lllll'l' lI ¡\lId I alll n:ady to tak e whal happens ir I alll see un: i n 111)' scorc, "".,Wlllg thaC cven ir I recl a minimum. Ihe glass willlwt h ll!ll k, lhe objedivc structurc worked out over the 1l1onths will help mc thro ugh . Bul when a night comes thal I can glow. shine, live, reveal- I am ready ror it by not anticipating it. The seore remains the same. bul everything is different beca use J am different. 9 Cieslak is the Zen master for who m the moment of action iti when all the preparatio n falls away: what remains is readiness . As Shakespeare says. "ripeness is all." When the performance is over Cieslak "cools do wn." Often b e d rinks vodka, talks , smokes a lot of cigarettes. G etting pul of the role is someti mes harder than getting into it. Li tÚe \Vork has been done on the " cool-down." at least in the EuroAmerican tradition. I-Iere thc emphasis is on training, re­ hearsa1. amI warm-up . In Bali , by contras!. there are rituals for eooling down inc!uding sprinkling with holy water, inha1lation ol' incense. massage, and even sacrifiee of animals and blood-sprillkling. What the cool-down does is return the performer to an ordinary sphere of existence: to tran sport him back to where he began. Acting, in most cases, is the art of temporary transformation: not only the journey out but also the return. Quesalid ami Narad both , over the long run , gave in to their roles; Cieslak knows how to prepare and be ready to flow with his role. But he has hardly a n in kli ng of what to do afterwards. And some roles effect a swift ami permanent trans­ l'ormation , as in initiation rites and other "rites of passage:' 1 am interested in these different kinds of changes that occur witbin performers- and the concomitant changes that happen in an audience- not l'rom a psychological point of vicw. but as a bnseline from whicb to project several stops along a continuum of performance types. This continuum will tell something about performance in a number of cultures, ami aIso interculturally. The con­ tinuum runs from those perfonnances where the performcr is changed lhrough the "work " ol'the performance to those in which he is transported and returned to his starting place. A vertical axis of this continuum ",ould show whether transformation occurs gradual1y, as with Quesalid ami Narad, or suddenly, as when a Gahuku boy is changed into aman through the work ofa single set orinitiatory performances. And aIso I will show how often these two kinds of pcrformances- lransportative and transformative- occur together. working together. I call perform a nccs where per ronner~ are chan ged " transl'ormalions" and t11 0!'iC whcn.: pcrrornw n; ilre Icl urncd to their starting places "tra nsporta­ uons ." "Tra IlSpllllntillll " bn' fll lsc during I he pelformance lhe performers are "Ia kcn S\1I1ww llcrl' " hlll .11 111 1' llld " n l'II assls tcJ by olhcrs, tbey are "cooled hlw n" II IHI n XIII \: 1 Illlhlhll\l Ilh' II ' 'it .111( 1111 wlH;rc they wcn l in: \(1'1

1! L1: M E N lS ANI>

CI IH' lJ M ~ T Al'lCli S

O¡. P I! RI:ORM A NC E

START/FINISH

A

preparati ~putting on street clolhes .

I

\

wa~m-up

Ordinary

havin g a drink. ere .

cool·.down

Performative

B

The performer goes from the "ord inary wo r/d " to the " performa tive world," from one time/space reference to another. from one personality reference to one or mo re otbers. lle plays a character, battlcs dcmons. goes into trance, traveJs to the sky o r under the sea or carth: he is tra nsfo rmed, enabled to do things "in performance" he cannot do ordinarily. But when the performance is over, or even as a fi nal pilase of thc performance, he returns to where he started . O therwise he is 1eft hanging- as some movie actors, not all ha ppi ly. have found out. If John Wayne was satisfied in becoming (like Narad) wha t he portrayed , Bela Lugosi was not. I do want to point out that if a change occurs within the performer, o r in his status, it happens only over a long series of performances, each 01' which moves the performer slightly.

e

e

((0J8) ~

_o

A series 01 transporlations results in a translormation

This is what happened to Narad and John Wayne. Thus each separate perform ance is a transportation , ending about where it bcgan, whilc a series of transportation performances can achieve a transformation . l1's not m)' task here to describe the \vays the ordinary world is different from the performativc world. In some kinds of performances- trance dancing, for example-extreme care is exercised in bringing the performer out 0 1' trance. This is so beca use trance exhibits both a quality 01' personality change and involuntariness: the trancer c1early needs help "coming back," while the character actor appears to be in control 01' himself. We might even say that there are two kinds of transportations- the voluntary and the in vol un tary­ and that character acting belongs to the first category and trance to the second. However, in watching trance- and seeing many films depicting it- I suspect that the difference between these k inds of transportations bave been overemphasized . The charadcr actor is self-sta rting (al Icast if he has orth o­ dox EuroÁmerican tra in ing), blll once w,lnn eu -lIp and in the now of lhin gs be is qu it e deeply involved in whal Kea ts céllb.ll hc " f1 cga[iw ca pa bil ily" anJ wha t f"ve schemcu u ul as 1he " nol Inc no! [Jo l 11 11.': ." Tlll' d lLl racler ud or in nnw is no L h i lll ~clr bll l he is nnl no l himscll nI 1111' SlIll l(,' tilllC. Also, lralll:C

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rcrformers a re fn::qucll lly ver)' CI I Il~ci ~lIlS uf Ihci r actions eV\! 11 while p~r­ forming thcm; and thcy l\>l' umlc rgo training and wa rm-up. The dilTcrencc betwcen these ki nds 01' performallce may be 1110re in labeling and cultural expcctations than in their performance p roccsses. T ransformation performances are dearly evidenced in initiatioll rites. whosc very purpose it is to transform peorle from one status 01' social identity to another. An initiation not on ly ma rks a change but is itsclf lhe mea ns by whic.:h persons achieve their ncw selves: no performance. no change. Kenneth E R ead tells how a Papua- New GUlnea boy, A semo, was ta kcn from his mother's home, seduded in the bus h for several weeks, put t hrough with his age-mates initiatory ordeals and trai ning, and finally brought back lo his village (al ong with his age-mates) lran sfon ned into aman. Read lets us know th at the under­ lying action of the initiation is performative. To give but two ex amples , afler two weeks of sedusi on the boys are brought back to Susuroka , their vill age: The noise and movement were overwhelming. Behind us, the shrill voices of women rose in keening, ritual , stylizcd cries informed by genuine emoÜon that were like él sha rp jm;trument stabbing into the din around me. T he ululating notes of mate voiees locked with thumping shouts, deep drumbeats expelled from distended chests counterpointed the crash of bare feet on the ground , and , rising JO aboye it all, came the cries of the Hutes. Asemo and his age-mates were somewhere in the middle orthe throng, almost certainly blinded by the dust, carried along by the press of stronger bodies.. .. Other youths had told me, laughing, 01' their panie during these opening minutes of their day-Iong ordeal . " This ordeal included fo rced vomltrng and nosebJeeding. Rcad describes how Asemo and the other boys were Usadly bedraggled" und "dejected" and "limp. " Literally exhausted , the boys were carried, dragged , and pushed into run ning a gauntlet where GaJllIku women attacked the mcn and boys with "stones and lethal pieccs 01' wood , an occasional a xe, and even a few bows and arrows. " The men pickcd the boys up and put them on their shouldcrs and together they mn through no-man's-land. The Illen had bunched togcthcr as thcy ran , so c10sely packed that they struck each other with their legs and arms . In the center 01' the thron g the initiates, rid ing the shoulders of tlleir escorts. swayed p recari o u~ l y rrom sidc l() liide. Iheir fingers dutching the feathe red hair 01" the hca d bclwcén lhcir legs. 12 Reau snys " Ihel e WIIS 1111 1I 11 ~ 1: 1~ inl ' 111..' vcn()111 in Ihe ass
~7 1

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Ihal il "kekn:d Otl Ihe cdg\! 0 1' virlu al disaslCr." ()n th\! edgl:, hui nOl over: Ihe atlaek was eonl,lined within its perrormative bOll odarics much the way a bloody hockey game barely but relia bly remains a gmne. T be ordeal, th e gauntlet , the attaek : these are a1l "twice-behaved behaviors"- scored , ex­ pected, performed. Six weeks later the "final aet was played o ut in the ... vilIage." Asem o spent those weeks absorbing training. T he d ay of hj s comin g out- a da y or feasting and da ncing- ··culmina ted in the presentati on of the initiates to the whole vilIage. Th is time the women didn 't assault the men but greeted them with a c'ris ing chorus of weIcoming caIls. " Then the initiates danced as a group , without the assista nce or protection of the older meno Th ey m oved unstead ily under the ungainly decorations, and J failed to see the splendid stirring ch ange Ihat had be en a pparent to their elders ' eyes. But dignity touched them when they began to dance. a slow measure bascd on the assertive stepping of the men but held to a restrained , promenading pace by the weight [ol' their headdresses] they carried on their heads . For a mom ent J was one with the crowd of admirers. IJ Asemo and his age-mates had become mcn in the Gahuku scheme of things . During and after his day 01' dancing Ascmo was a ma1 e Gahuku \Vith the responsibilities and privileges orthat status. Abolition of the initiation rites­ and Read thought when he wrote The High Valley in 1965 that they would not be pcrformed again--signaIs a sbi ft in the whole basis ofGahuku society. That is because the initiation doesn ' t merely mark a change that has occurred elsewhere in the social scheme- a s barmitzvah, graduation , or cntmnce into a professional association usually do in t he E uroAmerican context--bllt is in its whole duration the machine that "'orks the changes transforming boys into meno Without this machine Gahuku boys will be different kinds ofmen. To be taken fro m SlIsuroka, to undergo the ordeals, to be train ed in lore and dancing, to return and dance: that process equals becoming a Gahuku mano This status- whatever its personal meanings and effects, wh atever private styles it accommoda tes--is fundamentally social, public, and objective. It does not dctermine what kind of G ahuku man Asemo will be, 01' even how he fcels about it , any more than a wedding ce remony determines what kind of husband the groom will be. But definite acts llave bccn performed . Thesc acts accomplish a transformation. People
Ilw allack by Ihl' Wlll11 \'11. Wllll Il a im'd IIJcnl lo dance IIJesc ll1en \wre IransportcJ , noll ra nsl'ormcd. I'!ley W L~ I1: IrailIcrs, guides, and co-perronners. Th o se who no longer chu nge 01' who do not ehangc " t his time," through the work 01' this performance - -dTect Ihe changes wrought in the transformed. This rdationship can be figured this way: A

Ordinary Performative

Status 1: Boys

e

~

B es Initiat

~ o

Status 2: Men

The experienced performers enter the performance and share in its actions 01' bleedj ng, vomiting, gauntlet-running. But when the performance is ovcr, the al ready- initiated Gah uku men reenter ordinary life approxirn ately whcTe they left it. Ir any change among lhem occurs, it is subtIe: the way persons achieve more respect, 01' lose it , through doing what is necessary in the ir soeialli ves. When the performanc~ is over the transported ha ve been retllrned to their place of cntry and the transformed have been cha nged. The system is analogous to a printing press, where information is imprinted upon a piece of paper as it is fed through. The performa nce- and the training leading up to it-are points of contact between thc "press " (transpo rted) and the "paper" (transformed). Point B-- the performance witnessed by spectators who are far from casual seekers 01' entertainmcnt·- is the decisive contact between transported and transformcd . What thc transported imprint upon the trans­ formed at that point ofcontact is there to stay: circumcision, scarring, tattoo­ ing, and so on; or the givil).g of spccial c!othes, ornaments, and artifacts. such as wedding bands, the sacred four-strand thread 01' Hindu initiation, the telfilin to be bound and lInbollnd daily by Jewish males, and so on. Or something is taken from the transformed: the bloody down Quesalid dis­ pl ay:>, lhe foreskin taken from the circulTIcised, a ceremonial haircut , or, as in the Gahuk u case, blood and vomit. These markings, additions, and sub­ tractions are not mere arrows pointing to deeper significance; they are them­ selves loaded with po wer: they bind a person to his community, anchor him to a social idcntity ; th ey are al once intimate and public. Theatcr pcople especi ally ough t to be scnsi tive lo lhc fo rce 0 1' lhe surface. The surface of the socüll bcl ng is like 1he surfa cc of lile sun : alway:; seet hing, th rowi ng up from Ihe ucplhs material heretororc hidd¡,;TI. élllU suc;k ing uow n inlO the deplhs wlm t ju SI I\()W was sllrracc,

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For the systelll lo work lile lransponed Illusl be as lIl1ehanged as lile lrans­ formed is permanently changed. The \\'ork 01' lhe transported is to enter lhe performa nce, play his role, wear his mask- -usually acting as the agent for larger forees , or possessed directly by them- and Ieave. In lhis process the transported is identi ca l to lhe actor. O r to put it anot ber way, the actor in , EuroA merkan theater is an example of a tra nsported performer. r or reasons lhat will be madc clear later, the E UToAmerican thea te r is o ne of tra nsp orta ­ tion wi tho ut transformation. M uch activity from 1960 on wa rd has sought to introduce into E uroAmcrican t heater the process of transformation . A nd Ihe alldiencc'! Spcctators at transformalion performances lIsually have a slak e in secing lh a t th e performance sllcceeJS. They a re rela tives of the performers, part 01' the sa me comm un ily. Thu s in t ra nsfo rmati on perform­ ances the a ttention 01' the tra nspo rted and the spectators co n verges on the transformed: A

s

s ..

B

...

Transformed

e

T

A

This convergence of attention , and direct stake in the performance. is why so many transfonnation perfonnances use audience partidpation. AII ofSusuroka gathered for the fi nal day 01' dancing as Asemo and his age-mates made their debut as meno A t first only the boys-now-men dance , but then everyone joins in a general ce1ebralion . So it is also with bar mitzvahs, weddings. and even funerals . In a transformation performance the stars 01' the sho\\' may not be the best performers , technically speaking. Asemo and his age-mates ca n' t dance as \Vell as the older men, any more than a bar mitzvah boy sings his part from the Torah as \Vell as the chazal1. Throughout the initiation proeess th e older men have concentrated on getting lhe boys throllgh-doing what must be done for the initiation to be completed, fo r il to work . And on th a t I
I Il ¡\ N 'i l' 11 1\ 1' .\

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1 11 1N

t"~' IraIlsponed Ilc!.XI llol IIr !\~ilhl pe, I(lJ'lIl l' I S. I': w ryw here lhe p leasure al1 audionce gcts I'I'llI1l a Ilall ~hl l l))ali ~lIl pCl'fOrmanCl' dl'pl~lll1s greatly 011 the skills 01' lhe c1dcrs anu /o¡- pnlfcssion a ls who train, guide, ofliciate, and oftcn co-pcrform with lhe lrallsfo rmcd. The bar milzvah boy is praised for his singing, but the chazan bellcr sing hettcr: ditto rOl' the dancing 01' Asemo's 1~llhcr and uncles. Jt would be easy ir it ended here. But the status 01' the tr
M y m ode! 01' lra ns porlali on/trélllsforma tion performance is open . It can be aprlicd across cu lllllCS ;Ind gc nn:s. I h"lvc a lready applied it to lhe initiatio n ri les 0 1' Gahuk 1I hl)y~ III Pa pila Ncw (luinC¡L I\ nd presently I wi ll ap ply it to a lcw mure kill d~ uf' 1li'1 11 11 11 11 111 l'L" , sc\cl:lcd no l OJll y In be represen tative but a h o occ'¡W¡C 1 haw II,h l " '"1 1\' l1Ihl'lIlI l l)XIK'ricm:c wilh I!lOS! uf lhem. In lhe (in'ck ~aM.! Ilhvh l ll' ,l y 1 Wihll 1 11 11 11 111 1 11 1 1111: lil l ll ¡;clllury 1\ l ', tHl I I huY\!

1(1 I ' MI': N I !-i "N I)

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directcd versions of Euripidcs ' 1/1(' ]Jo('('!w(' and Sophoclcs/Sl:lIl:ca' s Oedi¡JlIs. I will also look at thea ter according to the Indian trcatisc Nalyasosl ra (fourth century B c- second cent ury 1\ D) , the Noh drama according to the writings of Zeami (thirteenth century), and as practiced today in Japan ; the E/eph([111 Mal1 currently on Broadway; and m y own produc tion of Dionysus in 69 as an example of environmental theater and audience participation . Fin t let me show how the model loo ks when a pplied to that p eriod of A then ian tbea ter when writers alone reeeived prizes. A

Competing poets

C - - - - - - - - - : - - - ; - - -....,-- - - - - --.(

This is the opposite of what happened in the village o f Susuroka. There people of differcnt statuses \Vere tran sfo rmed by the initiation performance into people of lhe same status: boys + men became all meno Here people of the same status, poets competing, are transformed by the performance into unequals: a winner + losers. This competitive differentiation is of course that of the agon.: the core action of each Greck tragedy is identical to tha t o f the City Dionysia as a \Vhole . The revelation through direct competition a mon g agonists (pro- and ant-) ofwho wins and who loses is deep not only in G reek tragedy but, by derivation , in EuroAmcrican theater, whose narratives until very recently always involveo conAict and resolution into winners and losers. The Greeks so loved competition that they preferred il over aesthetics. At nrst, prizes were given only to the writers, and eacb formcd an ensemble of who he thought could best present his play. Aeschylus was noted for training his own chorus. But commencing in 449 B e, prizes were also given ror t he best actor. From then on writers were not allowed to select their own pro­ tagonists-these \Vere assigned by lo t and paid by the archon o ut of public funds. This lessened the possibility that writers and actors wo uld fOrtll teams- certainly a strange regul ati on fmm the modern viewpoi nt beca use it forecl o¡;ed o ne of tll e ambit ions 01' twent ieth-ccn tury thea ter: lO forOl an aestheti caJ ly ba lanced com pany. But the G rccks wa nted to red uce lhe pos­ sibil ity lha t the [wo com peLiliol1 s- o nc in wri lillg. liJe ol hcr in aclíng alt hough lhey occurrcd nl the llamc timc lI11d u~ed l he sa rnl: ITlcdiulll . a nu 'J/,

I R I\NS I ' I/ H I'¡\ 'I I IJN AN IJ

I'H ll HnlMAN('I :

lIt \ N'iI IIl~ M/' I IUN

dcarly afTl..a:lcd 11m: allll lhq . Wll llld jll pI;!cti<.:c he n:dul.:l:d lo (lIlC. What hap­ pCl1l:d was lhal w rih:rs w~rl.! t lal1 Spo rlt: rs ror a<.:lors ano aclors ror writers: I:ach was lhe means thl: othl:f uscd to ach ie vc victory. Thl: mooel thus <.:oulo be drawl1 twil:e: ollce wit h the wri ters as the "slraight li ne" ano once with the protagon ists. In Susuro ka the men compete with cach other. But even as they do tbey <.:olla bora te to help the boys lhrough. T he object of lhe performan<.:e is to elimi na te win ners and loscrs- the boys helped t he most are those least a ble to d o what's needeo. Ultimately , all the boys are initiated, all win, all dance together on the village gro und. This isn 't saying that among lhe G a huku there aren't better or worSc oancers; but these differences. o uring the initia­ tion , are effaced as m uch as possible, o r al least not made a fo rma] part of the ceremonies. W ith the Greek s th e differences are di splayed as much as possible- though even they made mistakes: Sop hoc\es lost the yea r be entered with Oedipus. 1 said that among the Greeks compet ition was preferred ove r aesthetics. That may be hard to swa llo w because EuroA merican aesthetics, thanks to the G reeks, is a function of competilion. If aesthetics is a concern for how well (= how beautifully) a thing is done , it developed among the Greeks when they ceased looking at a group in the process 01' being transported- as in tbe dithyrambic dances- and began selecting from the group individ uals who " do better" than others.

S \

Winners

To:

From :

( ''""'PO''·' )

T

J S

~\

R

E

Performers

o

A

):

Poets

R

S

Only by observing the details of performance- the what and how·_·--could th e Greeks, and any who follm·v th e G reek model , d iscern winning poets and actors from losers, T his process of differentiatio n is even more dc rnan ding whcn it's possible ror él winning actor lO perfo rm in a losing play and a losing actor in él winn in g (lil e . Spccla lors an d judges- who actively c1aim to repres­ en t the "who k éity." jllSI ;u; lhe juJ gcs who awa rd Obies and T onys c1aim I l) represen! l ht " 1I11:.I tlil-a l \."Cllllnl~tn il y" co nfro nt t he anists di rectly: they are ncit her ahsorhcd Ih~' I WI r" 1'1I1illl\:C as partici pa tors n()r ::ii mply " enj oy­ ing" íl. C'ritÍl'K 111111'1 1 ¡( lid '!1l. d ll llll', I1lh.. 11 do. runk pí:rrorm •.tnccs in rehlt ion t() o th L'1 pCllu ' " 'II"' I' l\t.lI "(! PIII, l tiI IP P llt wil híll u giVCll p \!rrO n llllncc I.he

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'í ,\ NI) " lit I ' 11 M :-; l' A N (' I S (JI

l' 1 11 H lit M " N ( , 1:

' good " frul11 th~ "bad ," J\l1 d writ ~ J's und pla ycrs kll\\willg IIH':y are bd ng judged, that so mcthing importanl is al stake rcael hy playing up lo thc auJience or intcn ti onally sL:Orning il. Ra re is the perfo rmance. cspecially on opening night when the criticli are therc, in which performers leel Ihe audience working wilh them , mutually absorbed in the task of making the show go, lnstead , the mutuality is of confrontati on- the radical separatio n of audience and judges/critics on one side and performc rs, pl aywri ghts, a nd other t heater people on the othcr. Th is basic confrontatio n Ieads to the accumulation 01' " values" by which artists are transformcd in to winners ano losers. Again. much ofthc experimcntal \York during the last twenty years has been directed- through devices a f audience pa rticipation , en vi ronmental staging. anu collectivc creativity- al a bolish ing this agony. Aesthelics need not be built fro m com petition- as is clear when yo u look al theater according to the Natya.l'aslra . T hili book, called the " Firth Veda ." was compiled between the fo urth century B e and the second cent ury " D. Jt is almost certainl y not the wo rk 01' a single persono A nd the details it conta ins describing theater an.:hitecture, staging, exact gestures of the body, lim bs, face; its discLlssion of emotions, 01' acting styles. 01' the different types 01' plays; and its mythica l frame of a theatrical perform ance decreed by the gods and later brought do wn to earth for people all point to a flourishing theater­ dance tradition long preceding extant Sanskrit dra ma. Unlike Aristotle, who wrote from a philosophical-li terary perspecti ve, the author(s) of the Natya,mslra write of a com plicated, sophistica ted living performance genrc. The book is so full of deta ils, of exact descriptions and specifica tions , that it can be nothing else th an a manual, a how-to-do-it text. Out of all this 1 want to look very cJosely at the relationship between the means of theatrical production- gestures, dance steps, mode of dialog delivery, eostumes, make­ up, maliks, theater an;hitecture and stage design , and so on--and the par­ ticular kind of " entertainment" enjoyed by the spectators. This relationship is epitomized in the Sanskrit notion of rasa. Rasa literally means "tlavor" 01' "taste," and Indian theater·- like the lndi an painting and sculpting of roughJy the same period, especially the caves at Ajanta and the sculptllral group al Mahabalipllrarn is, in Richard Lannoy's McLuhanesqlle term , "synaesthesic." As Lannoy says: The Ajanta stylc approaches as near as it is likely for an artist to get to a felicitous rendering of tactile sensations normally experienced subconsciollsly. Thesc are felt rather than seen when the eye is sub­ ordin ate to a tota l receptivity of all lhe senses . . .. The seated q ueen with the 110ating hano is drawn so that we obta in information which cannot be had by loo king al her fro m a single. fixcd viewpoin t. ... The logic 01' i his style demands th a t mOVCmCllts ;¡ lId gcstu rcs ca ll only 01.: d cscr ibcd in lcnns 01' the arca nr ¡¡r Ol e\.' ill wllll.:1I tltey OCClI l;

7X

I It ,\ N '11' 1I1{ I 1\ ¡ , ti N 1\ N l'

I It '\ N.., I ( lit M " 1 I () N

W~ ClllllOl iUClI lll y il 11 1'111 1." ~·:\\.'~ pt hy cOlllparing its pusltlon with othns al\l ll ll d il. ... It l;Pllld he .~aid that the Ajanta artist is con­ ccrneJ with t he o rJc r uf scnSUOllsness, as distinct from the order 01' reason. l ·j

Lannoy shows how the Sanskrit drama, based on the Natya.l'a.l'lra (or probably vice versa), is an alogous-cspeeia IJy in its synaesthesic techniq ue- lo the cave art and even to lhe caves th emselves. "'T he structure and ornamentation of the caves were deliberately designed to ind Ul.:e total pa rtieipation during ritual circumambulation. 111e acoustics o f one Ajanta I'ihara, or assembly hall (Cave VI), are sLlch that an y so und long co ntinues to ech o round the walls. The wholc structure seems to ha ve been t uned lik e a drum.,,1 5 This tuning was not fortuitous- these caves are human-made, excavated and carved out of a solid mountain wall. In both cases [the caves, the theater] total participation ofthe viewer was ens ured by a skillful co mbina tion of sensory experience. T he "wrap-aro um.l" erfect [01'] tbe caves \Vas conveyed on the stage by adapting the technically brilliant virtuosity of Ved ic incantation and phonetic science to the needs oflhe world 's most richly textured style 01' poetic drama. I(, What the N atyasaslra supplies are the concrete details 01' that stylc which is not at its core literary but theatrical. Even today in such popular forms as Ramlila. R aslila , and the Krishna bhajans, there is circumambulation , trance dancing, sharing of food , open or cyclical rather than confrontational nar­ rative, wrap-around environmental theater type staging, processions; phases of the performance where the spectators watch and phases where they participate: a total blending of theater, dance. music, food-sharing, religious ceremony, and a resulting sensuous overload that convinces me that the Nafyasaslra informs not only the classical Sanskrit dram a . extinct for twelve h undred years , but also dozens of living forms beloved by the 1J1dian people. I said that rasa is the essence of lhe performance theory ofthe NO lyasaslra. And that rasa means taste or flavor: a sensuous essence that enters through the snout nose, mouth , tongue· and engages the eyes and cars the way a sumptuous meal does, ultimately satisfying the belly which , to minds condi­ tioned by yoga. is the seat of breath. Thus rasa is neither gross nor leaden, but highly so phist icated ami subtle. F ood-sha ring symbolism is a paradigm 01' more th an InJ ia n theater. Food, with accompan ying oblations of ghee (clarilleu buller), waler. Ilowcrs, be\l.s, lire: these are the in tegers lin king Ind ian thua tcl and ¡I/Ii/l Ihe ha..¡ic 1(imIu ce remony whose roots reach uown 10 prc-J\ryallll.tllll'JlII At Ihl: I.·U\ C or ,mj" i~ lhe o lTe ring ol' prasad, rood, lO the g.ods. T hi ~ 111111 1 1. ~ '¡Ih I IIIl'" hy t lll' ¡' \I(ls :lnu rctllrllt:d lo lhe peorle. Thc rOlld nw t.. \!., a ~ IIl l ¡!,11 l' '1II ' Il' 111 11 I ~ I 1,111 ';1 0111lI.:d in lhe pmí.:ess rrom hu man

""-'

I

I 1 1M H N '1' S 1\ N II • I ItI . 11M S T " N (' l ' <; 1JI , l ' ! 1111' 1I1( M 1\ N ( . "

olf!.:1 ill g lo di vim: gifl. lJ ilú;n:1J1 IÍlods difkrent Ilavor~ I1l1d [ntllrcs, dilfcr­ ellt n: lC n:m;es and assl)(:ial io ns have difTerent rllnctiúns and meanings: Ir uit:;. :i wCCIs , rice, and so on, prepared in various ways, constitllte a languagc 01' lúod. IlIdian theater. deri ved from the entertai nments am oug the gods (a\.:cordillg lo the Nalyasaslra), also is un offering to the gods: a food Cor the gods, which the gods retllrn to people for their enjoyment. And the gods are freqll ent cha racters in the plays. as well as spectators of the human show. In Ram lila a l Ramnagar long poles topped by e ffigies represent the gods on high looking down at the performance. T his appearance ofthe gods as performers an u spectators is na tural and easy among a people who believe in rcincarna­ lion amI whose basic religious texts, the Vedas, depict gods modelcd on " primal man" a nd not the o ther way round. AIso, the occasion fo r theater in India is not. nor was it ever, a compdition amo ng poets and actors. Perform­ ances occu r for any n umber of reasons ran ging from t he celebrations of lixed annual events like Ramlila, Raslila, and C hho u to pure enjoyment at commercial theaters like Jatra amI Tamasha to the marking of auspicious l:"vents Iike mar riages, the visit of a d i!:,'11itary, or recovery from an illn ess. The performance is sometimes thought of as an offering. Need I add thal these occasions and functions overlap? At the Ram lila of Ramnagar the outskirts 01' th e perfor ming area are occupied by sellers of food, trinkets, clothes and the operators 01' games of skil1 and chanceo Everyone attends the Ramlila, from the nursing infant to l he highest godo On one night , from a tower later to be occupied by thc Maharaja of Bcnares's family , performers representing Visnu and Laksmi wateh as Rama and Sita are displayed ; these are all manirestations 01' the same deity, scattered abunda ntly in time and space like nower petals or tossed rice and saying the sa me thing: This is an auspicious event. Rasa is the fla VOl' 01' the performance- how it tastes, how it appeals to the lastes orpeople from differentjali, "castes," and experience: and Indians use the word "taste" with a great deal more subtlety and range of socio-aesthetic signilkation than we do. Ir some theaters need <:In audienee to hear it, and somc need spectators to see it, Indian theater needs partakers to savor it. I J o n't have lhe time here lO discuss exactly how rasa is used . What I do want IV point ou t is that according to the Nalyasasl ra- and in many Indian pcrCormances oftoday- the enjoyment ofthe perfo rmance is shared between the pcrformers and the specta tors, or as I shall say fro m lhis point, between Ihe preparers amI the parta kers. Ra sa happens where the experience of the prcpare rs and partak ers meeL Each, using skil1s that have to be learned and that arc nol casy, Ill oves toward the other. The experience of th e performance is likt: tha t 01' él banq uct wherc lhe coo ks amI servers must know how to prepare ¡¡ od se rve, but Ihe d iners musl know how lO ea L And, as in Asian hanqucls in gencra!. thcrc i'i rn~ne food th a n can possihly be consullIed: a ",real PUII \l f Ihe sl...ill is ill kn~)wing hliW a nd what to :id eel for Lln y giYl!n \Icca!.j(lll I his rcla lhllli>h ip can he dcpided Ihus. )XO

R" NK I' 111{

1

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l ' I~"NSlllltM" 1 rflN

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l e v,' l, 01

I

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L.ilYf!l 15 01

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ApptCClal ton 0 1 3bhlOay3

Abhlna.,a whal l age h;¡ppens on s .

B11Jva 'io

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Wh;¡1 IS -"univer sal " 01 t Olally shared by IhPo C()mrnt¡ ntly

A successful performance is onc where both the levels ofskill (preparers) and understandin g (partakers) are high and egua!. 11' the partaker expects more than the preparer can deliver, the performa nce is inadeg uate; if the preparer does more than the partaker can savor, the performance is wasted. Low skill l11atched by low understanding is preferable to an im balance. P erfect rasa is a meeting at a very high level 01' preparer and partarker. Noh drama in Japan works in a similar way, except that the root metaphor is gardening and wh at is shared is halla , "f1ower. " More on that later. This Indian system of participant enjoymen t- a system cxported to South­ cast Asia, China. and Japan- is one of the main things that attracted Brecht to Asian theater. This system involves the audiencc in a very active way while at the same time enhancing its enjoyment. The system works with relations ¡jmong four variables: 2 performer/performed preparer

.. RASA -

3 4 savored/spectator partaker

Rasa is the interface 01' 1/2 :: 4/3. Rasa doesn ' t exist independently : it is a fundion of Ihe in terface . And cach term oC the systCJ11 can be varied inde­ pendently 01' the Ol hcrs . T hat is, for exam plc, some spectators can savor one pa rt (JI' a perro mlancc, Ol hcrs an()thcr: a perfonner can be abso rbed into hís r\)le a t one rnO lllé nl illld ~h: t:l i.:h cd r!'l1m it at ano thcr. Again , Brecht too k this tcchn iq ul.! 01 imlcpclldclI! Iv ViII ¡ahl\! t:lcl11cnls and ucvc\oped frollJ it his theoryl pral:ticl' 0 1' J"'''/I'I 'III, 11111 l ' .1 1I l'11111 ion o; or '\lis ta lH.:c." Let me emphasize again hu w dnsc Ihi s ~,y\¡ (¡ 1I 1 ... 111 1IIl' \Vil}' 11111' lúnd is call.ln . Al ti ban q ucl, feasl, or I I II~ 11;:; \,lIlraI11 ,11111 111;" H (\l r¡ 1111 Il l' ~ 111J...1l 1 1\ u l ccn:lI1ol1 ialllCCasi nns and

'HI

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AN I I I I IU

I.iMS I AN( 'I S(IF

1'J lt llllt l\1¡\N I '1

ritual o bscrvalH;cs Il is pn:sulTleJ Ihal all lhe lúou i, supc rh 01' sanctificd, but only sOllle 01' it is calen : onc 01' lhe meanings 01' " lastc" is to sample ol1 ly a liule bit. Thus , acco rding to the Natyasaslra both performcrs and partakcrs are t ransported, and no one is transformed.

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Rasa is the mutuality, the shari ng, the co-creation of preparers and parlakers. Evcry detail 01' the presentation is worked out, but variable: theater architec­ tLlre, mise-cn-scene, gestures. music, types 01' plays, spectator com portment, the proper occasions for theater, et eetera, et eetera, et cetera. If A ristotle's Poe/ics is so laconic as to be cons idered only notes toward a text, the Na/y([sas/m is so detailed as to be thought colleclivel y authored, compiled over tour or five cenluries, a collecti ve lore-book of performancc. But wh ile the details are worked out to a degree unknown in the Wesl, there is much liberty within the scheme beca use the parts are variable. For example, how m uch should be prcsented at one time? There is a "start" and "finish" to each night 's pcrformance.. - and many plays in the Sanskrit an d folk traditions ex tend over a n umber of days a nd/or nights- but there isn ' t any definite "beginning" or "end" as tbere is in G reek drama. Wherc to stop in a given series again dcpends on circumstanees. At Ramlila the size of the crowds, the weat her, the energy of the perronners, al1d the wishes of the Maharaja al! can determine how much is done 011 a given day. Like post­ modcrn performance in Europe and America, the Indian system is a braid 01' several strands 01' aetivities and dcmands that performer and partaker attend logether to the here an d now 01' the ever-changing rclations among the strands. The tw o systems, Greek and In dian, can be diagrammed thus: GAEEK

INDIAN

clima_

idea

mudr"s ENO

coshJnles

BEGI NNING

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r 1\ ' 1 i! j N

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N S 1 (} I{ M t\ 1 1" N

I'hi¡¡ Jifkn:m:c ulll:c l!i Iltl l " ll l y lhe Pl'l lu rJ lIa nn: bul training, reheansals, an J IllCans \)1 IlanS I11!1 II I1!, pClt\lrJllalll.:c knowledgc. Paradoxieally, th e G reek sy,~tem as it has w ~)rkcd ilscll' out in Wesle rn thea1cr historically- is freer Ihan the Imlian in training and rehcarsal but more flxed in performance. Through training and rchearsal lhe "idea" or "action" 01' the performance is "discovered," and this takes searching; in performance lhis idea is "shown," and this lales a fixeJ score. In the lnd ian syslem lraining and rehearsal are fixed beca use what is bei ng transmitted is not a means 01' discovery but the performance elements themselves broken in to learnable segments. The per­ formance . however. is truly contingent. The more experieneed and respected the performer, the more he is permitted lo vary elements of the show du ring perform ance. T he performance is trul y contingent, an ever-eh anging lila ("play, ,. "sport," "illusion") created belween preparer and parta ker. But these days, as even classieal and folk arts a re restored according to Westernized lraining methods, Indian theater is losing its quality o r contingency. This view of the difference between causal chains and braided relations also helps explain why Western theater develops from crises th at it is then lhe business of the performa nce lo resol ve , while Sanskril dram a, and much contemporary lndian theater, "doesn' t go anywhere ." lt's not supposed to go somewhere, it's not a "devclopment-resolution " kind of drama, but an expository, synaesthesic, and playrul set of variations m uch more akin to lhe raga system 01' music than to anything Aristotelian. This " playing around with"- performances that mutually transport pre­ parers and partakers--descri bes not only Indian theater but the experiments Grotowski made in " parathealer" and the "rituals" A nna Halprin has been devising in California rol' nearly thirty years. The weakness ofboth Grotowski and Halprin is that they rely on the I-Thou immediacy, what Victor Turner labels "spontaneous communitas," to generale the rules 01' the game, and they depend on "group creativity" to come up with the elements lo be bunched and braided. Without the benefit of a worked-out, culturally elaborate lheatrical systcm (whieh the Natyasas/ra both describes and provides, and which is ever-present in the Indian oraltradition) the participants are thrown back on thcir O\\'n "sinecri ty," their own " personal truth ." This truth is bul a version ofthat radical indi vidualism so rampant in twilight capitaJ ist culture: all too often a combination of clichés of intimacy, uJlexamined cultural fact, and roman tic distortions 01' pre-industrial religious cxperience. Thc rcsults~ as I've witnessed thcm and heard them describcd- are actions Iike staring deeply inlo you r pa rtncr's cyes, swaying or moving in cirdes in "ritualislic" dances, passing tire, td li ng personal stories duri ng long ho urs spent quietly in candle­ ligh!, ru nning. Ihrn u!lh lile WOüJs at night, and so on . 17 Yel the underl ying lenucncy u f this I..¡1II 11l1 ,'xlwrimcnl is, I thin k. vu lid: lo reslorc to perform­ ance. nr inve nl ;1Ill'W. Ilm l qllulily n lllllllual ily so pQwer l'ully prescnt in rasa. NOlhillg l"IlI dd ltl 1\11 11111 I¡I'1I1 the lI <.1n:issislic cx pclimcn ts 0 1' lod ay's lllcal\'! Ih all Jap,lI ll''11 NII!! ! I IPIII I IItH I is uC'icl'ibublc hy Ihc fi g ures 1 Ih~

In

." • • \ 1'\'1 H NI:" 1\ N 11 l' I H I ' 1J M ST i\ N ( 1, ~ ¡"II;'-'"

r"

I • l it M A N ( , l '

,Icviscu l'o r Ih~ N tII 1't1.1'l/.I'//'cl. In Noh Ih~n! i:-. a d ClSl' ,dU llo lIship bClwcc n highly skilled perforll1c rs Olany ul" lhcm apprcnliccJ iJl the al'! I"rom carly childhood by their fathc rs, und es, and grandfat hers- and
the talented shite, and, on lbe o lher hand , lhe audience who can

rcally apprcciale Noh callnot end u re to see an imma t ure shite per­

form in)!. It i~ natural tha l lhe unskilled shite is never admired by a

cu lti va lcd aulliencc: bul thal lhe real master s()lllcli mes C
2R4

n Ihe 01111'1111,,11 ..1 01 11 peopk do 11(11 h ; I\'I'

N fJ

I Hi\NSP II IlM¡\ IION

1 1I"lp (ll ~ i 1illlH' .\IIdiCIlCC is l' IIP II g. II

partl y hccausc these 1,1'ile lo 'lTogllizc the lIIasler's lalell!.I"

Thc pu rpose 01" litis ¡Ir! is lo pacil"y and give pleasure lo lhe Illinds 01' the auLlience a nd lo 1ll0VC lhclll, both nobles and lhe common people, aml this will also assure prosperily and long [ife (for the actor]. 2il So dose and immediale is the relat ionship between perfonners and spedators thal ir lhe audience is no isy lhe costumes are changed at the last minute, a kind of homeopa th y is tried where brigh ter eostuming is used to calm a 10 0 ­ fl ashy a udiencc. Noh's apparent solem nity and fixity are deeepti ve. A t its core is a sel 01' co ntin gencies lIn matehed elsewhere in world lheatre. T he sh ite rehcarses only wi th the ehorus. The \Vólei (second character), kyogen (com ic actor), flutist , and drummers are each from differen t fa milies, and rehearse separatcly from each o ther. T he whole gro up 01' actors, chorus, ll1 L1sicians Il1cets only once or twice before a public performance. The shite outlilles his plans. Remearsals as such are rarely held. The performance itself is the meet­ ing place of the stra nds--singing, chantin g, dancing, reci ting, Illusic-ma king ·-Iha l are braided into the p ublic Noh. ¡\nd lhe performance is vari able not only in the ways Zeami describes but also because the shite can signal lhe musicians to indicate that a dance will be repeatcd or shortened. Again, Iike Indian raga music, Noh takes advantagc of the immediacy 01' the encounter among artists and belween the ensemble and lhe audience. An a udience of connoisseurs is aware of, ami delighls in , these contingencies. Noh··--·the very word means "s kill "- is Iike a sporl, and the spectator's enjoyment is inereased if, like the baseball fan who can read lhe third-base coach's signs to batter and run ners , he knows the dctails 01' lhe interplay on stage. Today many spectators of Noh also study its ch anting or dancing, and are attached to one school or other. For their part, Noh performers complain 0 1' boredom when , for tours, a cOlllpany is assembled lO repeat a fixed reperto ry . The onceness o f Zcn- a meditation and a martial art- ís the heart of Noh . Not rasa , flavor , but hana , flower , is the rool metaphor o f Noh . To undcr­ stand hana you musl see ll1allY sumi-i pai ntings, where eaeh stroke orthe brush is allowed jusI once, there are no corrections. so that a great work, when il oecurs, is whal happens when all training drops away in an unreviscd meeting of arlist and medium . Zea mi speaks o f hana often, but at no lime more cogently than here . My fa lher Ka nna mi L1 ied on the nineteenth of May [1384) at the age of .fi rty-lWO . 0 11 the fourl h da y o r the samc rnonlh he gave a dedíca­ lory perf"ormu n..:c in fl'llnl ofSegcn Shrinc in lhe province of Suruga. 1lis OWIl pel rOIIlIilIlL'l o n thi~ rrogTam was especia lly brilliant, and lhe audicllcc, 110 /11 IlIld, :IlIlll ow. all appluudeLl . He hall ceded ma ny showy plllys Iu l ll ll lll l l ll l,' 1I ,. lill' ~ . lInd he him sd l"perfor mcd easy ones,

.~

E l. I M I N J S A N J'

t 1It1 I I IV! S I ,\ N I 1 -; 11 1' !' I It H II( M t\ N ( , 1,

in a ~lI bdlll:d wa y; blll, wilh Ihis add it io nal wlol' 1\ ) ¡t. III:- IlO\wr IllOh:.d belte r Ihan ever. !\s hi:; was s!tin-110-lwl1(/ lha na aCl)uired through training, literally "true l1 ower"] it survived until he became old with­ out lei:lving him , Iike an o ld lea fless tree whi ch still blossoms 21 Pure Beckett: an a rt of disti lled disci pline. Not only sumi-i, but Zen rock gardens a nd bonsai trees are :malogs to Noh. l la na ellists between performers and spectators; when it is there both performers and speetators a re trans ported.

O'd;".~

expenence

0 , I

transportad

H A N

B

Spectators who are connoisseu rs transported

,\ N I;'

I I{ ¡\ N ,<¡ H) I( 1\11\ I I () N

wilh Ihl'cha IHCh;1 !\ 1I 1'1 1I1I1 ~ pIIlV IIlI '.(lIIJ l1oll11' repulsl:d . In adrniring !\lIglim's skill , and in I cco).' ll1/iIlg h ls dIM'( JlllI Ol t. a spcclator is relievcd fmm conl'ront­ iJlg dirl~dl y t he Elcpll :lllt Ma ll 's look and slink. !\ spectator can congratulate hersclf: " 1 sa w !\ n ~Ii Il1/Elcphallt Man , and I was not disgusted . ] saw lhat he was a human bcing, just like me." This kind o f sentimental empath y. earned by acting skil !. is what got the production ils great success critically and commercially. The perfo rmer is transported while individual spectators experience their own reactions at the level of private responses. Some, like mc, may simply respond to A nglim's skil1. There is no collecl ive work set out ror the audienee to d o or pa rticipate in. A

A

Ordinary expenence

A

Performers transported

But unless the spectators know what's going on thro llgh speeifie instruetion in Noh the hana is missing. As in the Tea Ceremony the abi lity to appreeiate the service and the objects shown is directly proportional lO what the guests know. This is different from the Indian situ alion where Illutuality but not special knowledge is reqllired. Liv ing in a north Ind ia n village will give a person by the age of five all thal he needs to participate in Ra mlila; frOIll then on lhe experience will deepen year by year. But the Noh speetator m ust beco me a connoisseur or he will fail the perfomlance. And that is why so many newcomers to Nob find it impenetrable. It doesn't take special training to like Broadwa y theater, or to disli ke it. But in this trait Broadway is like experimental theater. Almost all EuroA merica n theater prides itself on its popularity: what it asks of its audience is not special knowlcdge but responsivity. The historie sources of this theater are not so much religious ritual or initiatory ordeals but popular entertainments. I saw Fhe E lephant Man on Broadway in 1979. Philip Anglim 's portrayal of the tille role was a model of profession alism as understood in the American theater: ph ysical , restrained , precise, and according to the conven­ tions of a stylized naturalism . By ho ld ing h.is right arm extended a nd twiSled from the sholllder and again at th.e wrist, by dro pping his right sho ulder and turning his neck to the left, by rotating /l is le ft wrist and denching his fi st ­ and then keepin g this excruciatiryg position for more than two ho urs (except when otT-stage)- !\nglim gave lhe impressi on of deformity without help from lhe costumer 01' make up a rtist . Th is i!) in contras\, say , to Lon C haney's lIul1chbllck o/, N O!l'e Dame in t he movk s-or dozcns of ot her films-w here the actor is an a rmature for a co n~ lrucl i on, Bul !\ ngli m's work 0 11 hi msclr 'ervcs un otlle!' p urpose loO , II all ows in d ividulIl spc.Tlal ors lo syll1pa lh izc 'lX()

Individual spectators respond

The differenee (can 1 say emptincss?) between th is experience. these sets of individual experiem;es-·parallel but not collectíve-and Asemo's initia tion, Greek theater, Nutyasastra, and Noh is clear. In each 01' the others thc audience has a definÜe col1ective role to play. The tie-íns do not stop with responsivity but go 011 to include consciously artic ulated ami practiccd interactions. Asemo and his age-mates exíst as initiates between the men and lhe rest of Susuroka, somewhat lhe wa y rasa and hana are co-created by audience and performers in Indian and Japanese theater. Ami in the Greek Iheater, a particular performance determined who won the prize. The only lhing c10se to this kind of celebratory play/work in our culture is what fans do al football, baseball, boxing, or olher sports events. Brechl knew this am] wanted people to attend thea ter with the same criticall SlI pport ive m inJ Ihey take to sports , 11 was this lack ofrn lltuali ty , a symptom ()f lhe a lIdie ncc's lac k uf' powcr, and lhe perfo nna nces' lack of transformal­ ive polen lial. Illnl Icd lo 1111: ~xrc rimenl~ ()f lhe 60s a nd 70s. These invol ved audiencc pUl tki pilti ' lll . n~'il l iulI nI' nl.!w kinds of spaces for the.aler, él wide­ spn:ad i nlcTl~s( 111 'i 1 1l 1 11 1 ~ I \ lI 'l l l l 1ll'llnrl1 l1l1 lCCS th al heal, trans port, tra nsformo !\ nd CllIl SCI( II I!<1 li llk .. Wlll- IIIIJ,¡,tlllL'IW¡'\' lllilcall'l' a nd n:lig io n 1 do nol have

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Tllday 111<.:11.: I ~ ,1 q ll it:1 11 1 II Il' AU ll",kil ll IlIcater. Bllt Ihe s lI l facc caJllIlics. Teclu o ica lly [helc IS 11 111 \lCI1Ii.· 11 1 h rill g lllg. ¡ l co llisioll 01' cultures. Ano where Iradilinlls cullidc o r S~ p!l r ;¡ le radica lly IIp bursts creative magma. Ir this is nol happening ri gh t IIOW on lhe "élrt front," it is happening in the social scicnces disciplines lIndergoing transformation. In the spring 1980 issue uf J'he AII1('/'I('(//1 SdlO/al', CJiffon.i Geertz. w rites about " bl ur red genres"- -his attcmpt to catch up to, and criticize, m ovements in social thought dealing with cultures in terms of games, drama s, and texts . Geertz, a pi o neer of these processes (they a re n ot yet frozen into " me th ods" ), recogniz.es them as ways llf ha noling the new world t hat has b orne itself since World W ar ti: a wo rlo 01' colliding cultures no longer oominated by E uro peans and A m erícans, and no longer d o minable by an yo ne . Dominance, of course , can be polítical , economic, cultural. scient ific, philosophical. artistic. In none ol' these spheres is there going to be hegemony. Soon e nough , as the changed relations among peoples are manifcsted, the term " international"' will be re placed by " inte r­ cultural." This phase of human history will not bring the " retribalization " of industrial societies. But it will see the coexistence of metaphoric ami linear knowledge. M etaphoric kno wled ge-the k ind of knowledge released by the arts----is gaining an equal foo ting: it is not inferi o r to " rea te r" facticities but a primary reality , one of several tbat braid ¡nto the human helix. Ano theatrical metaphor resto red and rea cl ua lizeo behavior- is the root metaph or. Jt is the root bec ause theater = action = transportation/transformatio n. Chased from Plato' s rcpublic as nonrational ano subversive , but existing always, sometimes marginally , theater is now showing itself eve rywhere: in social dramas, personal experience , public displays, politi ca] an d economic inter
Notes 1 discuss this idea of"twice-behaved bchavior" cxtcllsivcly in " Rcstored Beh avior," Sltidfes i/1 Visllal Com/lII/llicatiol17 , no. 3 (Summer 1981). 1see in the rehcarsal proccss itself the paradigm of ritual , and in "resto red behavior" thc operation linking such divcrsc activitics as ritmd. theatcr. psychothcrapy, shamanism. and reflexivity. 2 From 'K Stanislavski, An Actor Prepares (N Y: Thcatrc Arts, 1946), p 13. This sense ofbcing "carried away" is what M Csikszcntmihalyi calls "flow," and it character­ izes a nUlllbcr of activitics, such as sports. mountain clirnbing. chess, surgery (for the surgeon), theater. dance. lt is the opposite of reflexivity. Probably many human activities are dialectical , depending on a w<Jvclikc alternation offlo\\' and reflexivily. It muy
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h",1t callse allll dl\:~· t .. f IlIs pnl'''r11la lIt:e. Pnl'o llll:tlll·'· :11I11 liS c f"l Cí;1 011 I"l' audit:nce ,UId ICctlback cOlllprise a synchronic hUlldle I lIil l . paradoxic;i1ly, unfokb during the performance act:ording lo a diach ro nic progrcssio n. 6 The besi discussions I know of a re 01' M Singer's ''The Radha-Krish na BI/((jal1o.l' 01' Madras C ity," in Wh en A Crca, 7i"adiliOI1 Modernizr?s (London: Pal! Mall Prt:ss, 1972); pp 199- 244, and N Hc in, T{¡e Mime/e Play.\' ol Mo /hura (New I ,l aven: Yale University Press, 1972). 7 Csikszentmihalyi , 8eyol1d Boredol1'l, p 38. S Csikszentrnihalyi , Beyol1d BoredO/n. pp 53-54, 9 Quoted in R Schcchner, Ellviromnenlal Th ealer ( N Y: Hawt horn, 1973), p 295. 10 K E Read , Tire High Va lley (N Y: Charles Scribner's Son s, 1965), p 159.

11 Read, High Val/ey , p 160.

12 Rea d, Hígh Valley, p 172,

13 Rcad , H(l?h Va l/ey, p 177.

14 R L umoy, T ite Speaking Tree (London: Oxford Uni versity Prcss, 1971). pp 48--49.

15 Lan noy, Speaking Tree, p 43. 16 Lannoy, Speaking Tree, p 54. 17 Grotowski 's work is eornplieated--combilJing as it does elements of old-fashioned Polish Catholieisrn with the new religions of California. Also G rotows ki's own position inside comrnunist Poland is not easily denned. He is, or was, a member of the Party; antl he is, or was, an avant-garde thea ter director. /-lis work is not 11 1 \ )1 Il1 dia in I(ni> h¡¡d ;11 1 ¡';¡ f ..:¡; 1 \lll d in ',,!\)!"s , :t l'l qr~, ;111( 1 wrill'rs i ll Indio l. 1)tI

16

THE AT R ICAL ANO

T RANSG R ES SI VE ENE RGIES '

Freddie Rokem Sourcc: Assuplr Swdies in ,he TI,('({(re 15 (199')): 19 38.

The theatre Iike the plague rc1eases conAicts, d isengages powers, liberates possibilities. and if these possib ilities and these po wers a re dark, it is the faul l not of the plague nor of the theatre, but of life. Antonin Artaud

Discourses 0 0 the theatre as wel1 as perfo rmance in general freque ntly refer to the differen t k inds of energy created on stage and transmitted to the audience. This notion of 'energy' as a rule depicts how sorne fo[m of uncom­ promising engagement on al1 levels 01' theatrical communication, mainly through the art of acting, is achieved, The number o f texts on theatre au d performance referring directly to the notion of 'energy', 01' drawing 011 co n­ cepts c10sely related to it, is even quite s urprising. U sually, however, these concepts , and in particular the notion 01' 'energy', are employed without indexing them formally in any way ; they simply appear as a central cord around which many discLlssions about the theatre are actually organized. The notion of ' energy ' does not ofcourse belong primarily to the world oftheatre, but refers to how sorne kind of machinery or technical aid uses physical or chemical changes to produce a labor that has an effect; or to the ability of human intentions to perform actions with conc rete resuJ ts . It was J\ risto l1e who was theflrst to use energeiu (vigor or force) 01' enargeia ( viviJ nc~~ or shining fo rth) as rhetorical terms, signifying the actu alizali o ll u f Iha l which hall previo llsly ol1.l y existed potentially. The two lerms vcry \!il rl y ,wcrl 'lp pcd . poilll ing al a vis ua l1y powerful description thal rl!¡;n :a lcs S\)lllctl dIl F 01 \1)lIIé\lllt,: as severa l Ihconsts sa y, ' berore yo ur very cyc ~ · . 1 Thl!sl: 1,', \l It'> I ,~,\ ,IIIj(' itllJlnr t,1n1 ¡Ibo in 1t:gal éon tex ts lO designa te I'hd,)ri¡;a l nll"lklll.l 111 '1' h dl l v . 1nl AlIslllllc,l!Ilcrgy a Iso ml!an t a¡;cu m ulated j;

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rorc\:. h,r LIS lod ay 1111: cOlH.:cpls 'Jxrforlll' ane! ' performallce' also imply $ome fo nn 01' creation and expemJiture of energy thal are not simply the result 01' technological achievemcnts, like in the ' performa nce' of my car or computer, but concern hllm an actions in all flelds , induding theatre. 'Ene rgy' is undoubtedly also a concept that ca rries strong ideological impli­ cations and it has been used to describe the causes of soci al changes and upheavals. In discourses on theatre and perfo rmance lhe notion of 'energy' has per­ ha ps been mosl rrequently employed in the contexts 01' acting and directing. But it has a lso been used to djscuss those energies lh at are present in d ra matic texts from tbe distan t past and which slill ma ke them relevant to US, cent lLries after these texts wcre fi rst written and performed. TIle energies e l" acti ng ca n thus be seen as a thealrical or performative mode tbat makes it pessible both to tell alld show the spectato rs wa tcbi ng a performance something from and about that past, as supposedly preserved in these tex ts. The notio n of'energy' has also been employed for pointing out and defin ing different modes of cOlllmunication and semiosis in the theatre. In addition lo exa mining these discourses. 1 also attempt here to develop different theoretical notions on the basis of wbich certain metaphysical and rituéll dimensions o f theatrical cncrgies can be examined. These in tum are also c10sely rela ted to what we usually refer to as calhar.l'is, the energies that can be experienceu by spec­ tators watchjng a performance. The widespread and quite different ways in which the no lion of 'energy' has heen employed in discoll rses o n the theatre serve to indicate the complexity o f this cultural practiee. In such discourses, il is a concept floating around 'out there ', and to date no attempt has been malle to examine this notion more systematically, as a key concept for the theory of theatre and performance. Although Aristotle was the first to use Icrl11inology directly relating to energy in lhe field 01' rhetorie, already in PJalo's dialog ue ¡ Oll , which explores the art of the so-called rhapsodc the singer of the Homeric epics there is an extensive discussion about the sOllrces of his power ane! inspiration. Here Socrates explains to the young actor, bearing the samc name as the dialogue itself, that The girt which yo u possess of speaking excellently about Homer is not un art but an in spiration; there is a divinity moving you, like tha t contained in the slone which E uripides called a magnet, but which is commonly known as the stone 01' l-Ieraclea. T his stone not only attracts iron rings, but also imparts to them a similar power 01' atlracling other rings; and sometimes yOll may see a number 01' picces or irons and rings suspended rrom one another so a~ to fo rm q uite a long chain : a nd aH o f them deri ve their power of suspension from lhe original stonc. In like manner lhc Mw;e first orall inspires m\:11 hcrsdl~ ami rrom thcsc inspircll r ersons a chain of ot her personll is sll~f1L'n d cd , who [lIkc lhe inspiratil111 . 1-1)1 :111 pllnt! puCls, c ric a'l 19

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wdl as IYli e. l'llIl lpnSI IIHII 1.\'11 1111 1"111 pllCI1lS nol by art , hui bceallsc IIll'y are ill spi n:d :l lld pusscsscu, \ Thc power-fields DI llll:se 'Illagnetic energies' of 10D 's perronnances are erc­ atcd by wh at Socrates terl115 clllhusiasmos, el term still useu in contemporary English with more or less the same connotations, a nd according to Plato they are subject to an a priori hieran;hy, in which cach lin k in the crea rive chain refers back to adivine source, thus creating an integrated totality. This under­ standing of the actor as someone who is inspi rcd or 'charged ' with di vi ne ar mctaphysical powers has had a very profound influence 00 the discourses on acting, as lhey have developed in most cultures. Plato's explicit aim, ho wever, was to prevenl a situation in which each link in the communicative ch ai n preceding the performan ce, and in particul ar within the performance itself, is given some form of autonomy in which the actor can be seen as an independent source 01' this charismatic power and inspiration. The moment such an autonomy is accepted a nd m apped out ­ and Plato was no doubt aware that this is possible, otherwise he wo uld not ha ve banned pocts and all other art ists from his ideal sta te - each and every link in the creative chain 01' the theatre can become a so urce of independent energies. Artistic creativi ty, Plato claimed, contains a strong transgressive potential. And, furthermore , as he most certainly also recognised, such a trans­ gressive potential will not always be totally confined within the more limited neld ol' art itsel L but can in different ways also inftuence the social and ideological spheres as wel\. However, even if such transgressive energies can at Ieast potenti ally upset the existing social order 1 believe that one 01' the reasons wby art still interests us today is related to this possibility theyare nonelheless still deeply ambiguous. Pien'e K lossowski , for example, reftecting on the ideas ofthe Marquis de Sade in the context of the F renc.b Revolution, even considered the very noti on 01' ' transgression ' itself to be radically para­ doxical , beca use it seems absurd and puerile when it [transgression] does not succeed in resolving itsel f into a state of afTairs in which it would no longer be necessary. Bu t it belongs to the nature of transgression that it is never able lo find such a state. Transgression is then something cisc than the pu re explosion ofenergy accllmulated thanks to an obstade. It is an im:es¡;;ant recupera tion ofthe possible itself - inasmuch as thc ex isting state of things has elimina ted t he possibility of another form 01" existent e. 1 On ly ti tJtopiun siluatln n wOll lJ ma kc Ihc need for t ransgrcssions lInneces­ sa ly, What we 1I ~ II !1 l ly Wl l lll"~" il! sil lIa linns o f" social an d psychological change is .-'ltl lI,:r. as k l (l"sllw·.~1 '.1'1'111" 1IIIIIIplv :tll 'cxp losiol1 o f ellergy acc umulated Ih anks lo illI lIINlldl' Ihll eH 11 wln 11 ' lIl h l ~vll I U li ()nary cncrl!ics are rclcaseu 111\

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in the so ciul sphere they d o nol !cad to any sign ilkanl d lll ng¡;s, particlIlarl y not 01' h uman natllre. Since the notion of'energi holds slIch an ambigllous a nd eve n pa radoxical position in social discursive practices as well as those conneeted to the a rts, it deserves to be carel'ully examined . What t wish to arglle here is that the theatre has become a point 01' convergence or union for such differen tly eonstituted energies. wh ich are generally conceived 01' as belon ging lo completel y separ­ ate ontologieal spheres or fields. It is this fo on o f viola tion o f boundaries between spheres that was apparently most threatening for Plato. who a rgued for a transcend enta l metaph ysics a no could only accept that the aestbclic fi eld to o had but one, di vine so urce. B ut it seems, ra lher, tha t the diffe rent forms 01' energies created and constituted by perform a nces are somehow a ble to bring together a broad variety 01" 5uch o ntol ogical spheres , [t is even pos­ sible to arg ue that one of tbe basic const iluent rea1ures of theatrical perfonn­ ances, what is ge nerally termed their 'theatricality', is at least partially based on such a mingling of ontological spheres, which as a rule do not co-cxist to the sa mc extent in other contexts. The theatre itself is of course not just an indistinct blur, b ut designa tes borders between differe nt ontological sphercs such as between tbe aesthctic and the social, the fic tiooaJ and the historical the natural and the supernatural , the static and the dynami c, the naive and the metatheatrical. But the thcatre also seeks to bring these spheres together; first to make them interact, at !cast for the duration of the performance itself, and in sorne cases even to unify them. The 'friction' such meetings give rise 10 is the so urce of the uniq ue energies created by tbe theatre. T he notion of 'energy' in the con texl 01' performance thus serves both as a unifying and a separating ar divid ing force. The ability to bring many totally disparate ontological spheres together is no doubt one 01' the rcasons why it has been so difficult to delineate theatre a nd performance as aesthetic phenomena, even if thisis 01' COllrse an issue that basically concerns all the arts. But the live presence of the human body, both on the stage as actors­ performers (presenting characters) ami in the auditorium as spectators, has made it much more complex to define the 'theatrical' than to delineate the 'fictional' in prose fict ion , for example. Tbeatre, in addition to the complexities of the theatrical signs and in particular the presence of the human body, also has to confront the issues 01' fict ionality. But the comprehensibility with which theatre simultaneously brings él vast number 0 1' dirFerent ontological spheres into play is of such a magnitude that the theatrical fiel d has even become paradigmatic for human behavjour in different academic disciplines. However, theatrc research, I believe, has not been able fuJJy to take up the challenge 0 1' this paradigmatic aspect 01' its own field 01' research. Thea tre has bec n perceived as activating d ifrerent kinds of e nergies rrom the textual, performati ve lUId metaph ysica l perspectives, as wcll as from the point of vicw o f (he spectalors. Thc textual pcrspcctivc is bascJ on raúiwll y di flercnt o nto logical assumptions to tillo! pcrfo rmalivc UIl t:. whic h as a rul!:

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Textual energies [n his boak Shake.\pearean N egoliation.l', subtitled The Circulalion o/ Social Energy in RenC/is.I'ance England, Stephen Greenblatt raised the seemingly obvious question of why Shakespeare's plays are still so relevant to readers and audiences of today . In answering this question G reenblatt makes an intercsting move between a F o ucaultian approach, focusing on the power hegemonies of a certain society, and a much more non-focaliscd understand­ ing of the textual and performative encrgies \Vith which Shakespeare's writ­ ings are imbueJ . Greenblatt relates the notion of ' energy' both to the power and the hegemony in the socia l sphere, as exprcssed in diffcrent public dis­ courses and social p racticcs al the time, and to the literal and metaphorical expression s 0 1' 1hesc practices in the d ramat ic texts from the same period o O n !.he o m: hand . and Ihis is a positio n closely foll Qwing F ouca ult, rcenhlutt argllc~ Ih;l l Shakespcan;'s uramas, ' precipi ta ted ou t 01' a s ublime cll nlhml al illll hulwl\'11 ,1 IIILII ¡Irl isl anu a lútali/jng sodety." In onJer to eXtI mi ne t h¡; ":Ot1ll'!l'\ IIl iu al t" 11 1 • Ilcl WCi.'fI I he e~mlplclely sclf-absorhcd arlisl :llId Ih\! surn llIlH"IIl' " 111 l~ Iv ~\ dh ¡I'; Ill'CII l1 1Ii.:lw\lrk li nkink! all human.

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a el'llllal ilk n l (\ f.i~, d p l.l ll ll lllI 1111 Ihv /'¡O llisl n IIWC111 e n I alld lltl' cslahlis h­ IIICIII ortlle ~ Ia lc l)ll slilcl l k hn;w I hl.!a l re (bcrnrc lhe roundalioll 01' Ihe S latc) "lid Isracii Ihealn: (alh:r jI)¡IX) have collstantly explored Biblical subjeets in ordcr lo CO111 nlC/l1 0 11 lhe present, but also to say something about the past. ¡\ play like I lanoch Levin ' s Joh's SorrOlvs, based on the Book (~r Joh. situates lhe action of lhe play in the R oman period, nitiq ui ng th e Israeli eults of suffering. self-pity and hero-worship. 11 presents a Job who is un wi ll ing to accept the new Caesar as th e ruler of the un iverse who has decreed that he is Ihe onl y God, Job , wbo has denied the ex istence of God beca use he has lost all his rami ly and possessions, has a visio n o f his father, who he bel ieves is God, and since he no longer has an ythin g to lose. he announees hi s belief in God. H is punish ment is to have his a nus skewered b y a spea r. R ina Yerushalmi 's BiMe ProJecl, which consists of two performanl:cs based on a collage of Biblical texts a lso presents a critiq lLc of the more traditional readings of these texts in lhe Israeli context. Th c reci tal of sorne of lhe mosl familiar Biblical texts by a group of adors wbo do nOl play speófic roles of Biblical figures, but rather are presented as a group and as indjviduals, crea tes a powcrful verbal spal:e with moving bodies. Secular audiences, who have studied most of these texb in school. strongl y identify wi th these productions on the emotionaJ as well as intell ectual levels. Bo th these productions, and several more , have tak cn the Bible as a point of dcpart ure for a radical refiguration of the traditional textual m aterials with in a contemporury performance context. Bcsides their obvious in tertex­ tual relations to the one singular text, the Bible. which undoubtedly can'ies a strong mythological weight in eontemporary Israeli culture, these prod uctions are indicative of lhe current hierarehical power structures. They create what Green blatt has termed ' a sublime confrontation between a total artist [01' rather u totally a bsorbing text] amI a totulizing society', struggling lo overturn the Jewish orthodox hegcmon y over these c1assical texts . The two productions l have mentioned here were able lO create subversive 01' transgressive cnergies by removing the l:anonised texts from their rcligious context, a nd situating them instcad wi thin a theatrical one. T he vcry dialectics betwcen the two contexts is in itself a source 01' theatrical cnergies.

Representation al1d semiosis Most theatr ica l performances depict situations in whil:h the individual ch ar­ acters invest JilTerc nt efforts or energies in changing thei r private nI' social situation. BU I Ihe Ihcmes rcp resented o n stage as a ru le also inlcra cl 0 0 difTerenl l\:vc!s willl 11,,: aC!':lhcl ic rneans orrepresenla tio n. M i\; hacl (¡oluman has Jescri bcd llw. L'I " Il, l.,lioll ; I ~ iI -;illlóllion in which An ac.:llll iN111" 1llt; 1I .1I1 t;W Il

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is lIl:vn lhal 01' roll gh cq uivaknl'Y 01' n,l p n!SCII Ll t ip lI . .l\ l,.' lill g is lIever simply mimelic; jI appcals lo liS bccause of:;omc Il lher ~)r lIlore indll ­ sive power. We fcel an encrgy prescnt in any good a()tor ' ~ performance thatgoes beyond the demonstrat ion ofwhat sOme 'real person' is like. 1tr

G oldman goes on t o describe this en ergy of the aClor's a rt as 'a " tcrri fle " energy, bearing in mind that word 's ro ot suggestion of the awesome und lhe fearful. '11 This is clea rly somelhing thal is also re/ated to cathal'sis. Goldman presents a positi on that has uodoubtedly been st rongly influenced by the School of New C rit icism, arg uing tbat there is always something in the drama itself, its plot or its eharacters, tha t enables the actors to realise these ener gy potentials of their art: structure is meaning. Most l'orceful in this respect are different forms of aggression. But, G o ldman argues, The aggression of the plot is not the result ol' some d ramatic law requiring struggle, debate, event, empbasis all of whieh ean be quite undramatic. It springs fram other aggressions - lhe aggressions of imperson ation and performance. T he pl ot musl ()fTer the aclor's aggressive energy (and thc rela ted aggrcssi ve energy of the audience) ample and interesting scope. Th e efro rt of the actor to act and the pleasures that acting generates are perceived as part ol' the action of the play, which fo rms their field" 2

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I'his jSS Il~: , \Vllit " .. I ¡; nl~, 11'11 11 I'lalo ' ,~ cri!iq m: 01' Ih e arls. hu.s also quil e stwn gly iJl fon tlcd ;1I 111111 Ih'CI'C\.'d what we ca n lCrll1 lhe ' scllliotie p rojcct', the :t Ilcmp ls am ong I hea! n' scllolar:; over approximalely rhe last lhree dccades, lo ex pose anu cx plicalc lhe lhcalrical codeso O ne ofthe basic strategies o ftJ-tjs projeet has been lO em phasise the autonomy of the ind ivid ual componenls uf Ihe ' lhea trical text', and this has primaril y becn based on different principIes nI' segmentation combineu with the in vestigation of their com munica tive potentials in the synehronic/systemic contexl of in d ividual performa nces. Gradually , however, lhese communicalive potentials have in ma ny cases al so been formula ted theoreticall y in terms that are d osel y related lo the notioll of 'ener!:,'Y'. 1 wi ll b riefl y mention two such a ttempts here . For Patrice Pavis, who has graduall y moved in the direction 01' analysing the individual perfo rmance in terms of difTerent vectors or power fields through which it is dynamically organised, developing on a temporal axis, the energies are an expression of the most ephemeral elements of th e perfo rmance . Pavis has foclIsed on the performance totalit)' of the misc-cn-scene. induding such e1cments as the rhythm and kinetics ofthe perform ance . which , he argues, the available scicntific language is nol yet fully abJe to depict.ln order to confronl this apparent em barrassment, the point oC departure Pavi s has established is that '[tlheatrieal production has become impregnated \Vith theorisation. Mise-en-scene is becoming the self-reflexive discourse of the work of art, as well as the audience 's desire to t heorise.' 15 The energies of the performance, Pa vis argues, ha ve thus beeome transformed into tbe desire of the individ ua l spectators to determine how a specific performance functi on s and is COTl ­ structed. This desire is based on a curiosity to locate the ereative processes through which the performance has been produced , wbich, ideally al Jeast, are revealed by its mela-thealrical su perstructllres. Erika Fischer-Lichte's semiotic project has a similar basis. But shc has taken a much more direct reeourse to psyehoanalytic theory in order to answer the question ofhow it is ' possible for the different subjects participating in tbe production of a theatrical text to constitute themselves as subjects in the process of that production?' 1(, In her theoretical deliberations Fischcr-Lichte refers directly to Julia Kristeva, who offers a form ulation ofhow the instine­ tual drives 01' an individual are articulated, and how (quoting K risteva),

It is only , Goldman co ntinues, when t he energies of the aeting become combined with those of the drama itself that the performance will actuaUy take its 'real' course. Tbis multi-faccted collocation between the themes ofthe play and the means of theatrieal representation through the acting on the stage dearly contains a meta-theatrical dimension, a mode of expression that is self-reflexive. It ean perhaps even be viewed as a 'universal of performance' in 1Lerbert Blau 's sense or the termo The theatrical sign, at least as a Utopian potential, actual ly becomes a kind of ' life' in itself. For Blau, ' the theatrieal g estll.\', the signil'y­ ing element of theater "can become a sigo " , as F oucault says, "ouly on co n­ dition that it manifests, in addition , the re la tion that links it to wh at il significs [ .. . ]" '13 T be meta-theatricallink between the theatrical geslus. th e specific sign-systems of the thea tre, and what a performance signifies, serves as the basis for the theatrical energies in Blau's thinking. Or, as he has stated in a more recent publication : 'When we grow \Veary 01' the disorder of thc world whose disorder spreads through our language so that we grow exha ustctL. we retreat to OT look for energy in lhe apparent order of art, its ingrown autonomy .' 14 The issue as I h ope will become even more clear later o n. is how the relations hips belween the energieti in the social flel d , the rcvoluti o l1.lry or lransgrcssive energics, an d the energics tha t s lCI11 fro m whal Bluu lcm,s Ihe ' ingrown autoJ1omy' 0 1' ' the aprarcn l o nJcr l\f arl' <11': C\Hl st il 1I 1cJ .

T he oasis 11\1 liíNd lt ' l I 11 11:\ sl: lllillli<: rnodcl of the t heatre is the interface Ix:l wCl.:n lhl: pi\' 1"1"111'-'11 ',l lllInlll' I'I pIICfl.:, ¡(nu lhe symbolic one, in the Lacun iall s..:nl'll:l:\'I ii 1111 11111,11\\ 1111 h 11h' 'l ubjl:l.: l iscons lil Ull!J by l elti n g~om c

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Discrete q ua ntities 01' ene rgy move through the body of the subject who is not yet constituted as sucb and, in the course of his devel­ opment, th ey are a rran ged acc:ording to the various constraints. imposeJ on Ihis bod y always al ready involved in a scmiotic process - by I"amily ulld social strucl ures n

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ki nd t)f(almosl inslinctual) cncrgy 1l()W Lhrough lhe boJy. This cnergy in tu rn becomes organised according to its Qwn constitutional constrain ts in creat­ ing what Fischer-Lichte terms the 'body-text'. She focuses on the work 01' the actor and how his ' individual physique maste rs lhe text by making it an extension 01' itself' , creating 'the tex t a second time - un der his bod y'::; own specific conditions - both as something foreign to hi m and as something integral lo his body."~ We musl, lherefore, shc a rgues, '[c]ollcentrate pre­ domi na ntl y on the question how th e praxis of individual in terpreta tion is accomplished by the di ffe rent subjects inv olved in the process of con stit utin g the theatrical text?") A nd this is clearly a q uesti o n of how different instinctua l energies are channelled into social communica t ion. 'The quesl ion Pa vis foc uses on is the constitutio n o f lhe mise-en-scel1(' as an assembly ofcl ements. w hich in vario us ways crea tes a me ta-theatrical key to the pe rformance . A theatrica l performa nce is in somC way always self­ reflex ivo, drawing attention to the way it is mad e, a nd the energies created by a speeific performance stem from the curiosity o f the spectators to solve the riddles this specific performance poses. For Fischer-LichLe on the o ther hand lhe energies expressed by a specific production basically stem fro m the con­ stitution of a 'subject-in-process' within the framewo rk of a performance. T his process has ilS source in the instinctual dri ves of lhe actors, but it certainly does not exclude l he possibility that it can a lso directly affeet the spectators. For both. howeve r, the communication crealed by a performance relllains withjn the spheres of the 'semiotic project' exallli ning sign-systems. which by themselves, but pri ll1arily in align ment with each other, give rise to dynamic and constantly cha ngin g processes of interpretation.

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point when~ ' Ihe d uc f pllrull d hclwcc n pcrfonnancl' amI ritual pmccss' can be discc rncd .: Schedll ICr pre~e nts what could be lerll1eu a more 'passivc' ' view of the cnergies gencratcd in and by ti performance, arguing that the 'su rrend er to the n ow o f action is lhe rit ual process' through which what hc 22 terms the 'resto red behaviour' 01' acting originales. Some of Scheclmer's fo nnulations cven point in a direction whe.re it would be possi ble to draw th e concl usion that acting is like a kind 01' sleepwalking activity . E ugenio Ba rba , on the other ha nd , for whom ' energy' is a very central notion in hi s thinking about theatre, presents a mucb more aeLivi st under­ standing ofl he actor' s energies. Stemming from what Ba rba terms the ' dilated bod y' , tlle energies a re like a kind of theatrical 'trickery" because ' [t]here are certain performers who attract the spectator w¡lh a n elementary energy which "seduces" without mediation. This occurs before tbe spectato r bas either deciphered individual actions or underslood their mea nings.'23 T he per­ former's presence holds a special force and attraction: T he dilated body is above a ll a glowing bod y, in the scientific sen se o f the tcrm: the partides w hich make up dai ly behaviour have becn excited and produce m ore energy, they have undergolle an increment of motion . they mo ve furlher apart, attract aJld oppose each other 24 with more force , in a reslncted or expanded space. The meta phors Ba rba has employcd are taken from a more scientific field than those of Schechner. From a more practical perspective, the energy of the actor is most effect­ ivcly produced by what Barba calls ' the negation principIe'. This principIe can b e applied to the concrete work o f the actors, both in training as well as during their work on the stage:

The notion of 'ener):,')" has undoubtedly been most frequently used in the writings of theatre directors sumlllarising their experiences of working with actors fo r specific performances or in diffe rent workshop contexts. These views ha ve no d oubt been formulated frorn a hegemonic position , summaris­ ing what these directors have been ablc to 'do' to the actors, releasing or liberating various k inds of performative energies from or through them while work ing with them or thinking about the wo rk retrospectively. Examining the wa ys in which the notion of'energy' has been em ployed in the writings 01' three contemporary directors ( Richard Schechner, E ugenio Ba rba and Peter Brook) provides just a sample fro m the wealth 01' writings in this specific area , and enables the distinction between severa l inte resling kinds 01' emph asis. According to Schech ner, wh o is the most academic of these directors, ' Lhe sense ofbeing la ken over by a ro le. t>fbeing possessed by il in its " now " or in lhe now of the audience's a p pelitc for illusion. /l/dus./i/a: play.'liI is o l'l.:cn lra l im portance. Thc Ira nsfomlution that takes place du ring the pcrforma nce ¡lse l!'. he c1é1 inls, is a kind M 'a h~o l"r Lio n ¡n lo Ihe c~' lI lc ". rIlis. he adds is Ihc

This p rincipIe can , as Ba rba himself has no doubt also seen, somewhat si rnplislicall y be trallsformed in lo él kind of magic ·trick' in which the actor uses ' thc negatinll p rinci\'lk ' to sed uce the specta tors rather than inviting tb cm to pnrlicipa le \.'IIHlIi\Hl illly 1) 1" in tc llect uall y in the ul ea trical c reation . A l lile saml.' lill l\.:. lt mwVl'r it I~ importan l lo note Ihat Ba rba conceives 01' lhca lric¡i! et1 cl .'V ,11' ,1 vl'< lhl.· (¡' I I·.i lll l hdwccn lWO d irection s ofbodily 1l10 ve­ men t, nnl prill l;u d v 11'. 11 1\"" ¡ h )o,\l1('l'I lI l ú l dl)c:;.

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There is a rule which performers know well: begi n a n action in the direction opposite to that to which th e action will fin all y be directed. Th is rule recrea tes a condition essential to all those actions which in dail y life demand a certain amount of energy: before striking a blow , one d raws one' s arm back; before jumping, olle bends one's knees; befo re springing forward , one leans backwards: recula pour mieux

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Pe l!.:r Brook has prcsen leu a lIlore dia Iel:! i¡;a I \. il.:v. (,1 111\ ,llllca I cllcrgi\:s. I le dail11ed that ' lwJe know lhall he wo rld nI' ap~arunl.'c is iJ CllIst I ... alld]lIlldcr the crust is the boiling ma ttcr we see il'wc peer il1 to a vokuno'. This Icads hirn to the qllestion: '1 low can we lap this energy?'Z(, In a nother intervic\V Brook devel o ped his quasi-scientific rnetaphors, first com paring the theatrical even t with an 'explosion ',27 in which sometimes the exact same com bination o fele­ ments will ca use un explosion, while at other times nothi ng a t a11 will happen. Brook the n reflected o n h ow the carbon-arc la mp, when the two el ectric poles meet, genera les Iigh l. Thc crucial difference for the intcnsity 01' lhe ligh t produced depends on rhe resista oce to the Row of energies. r or th is reason Brook a lso sees the meeting between audieoce and actors as crucia l: At the o ulset, these two elements are separated . T he audience repres­ cnts multiple sources 01' energy, as m ao y as there are spectators, but these so urces are not conccntrated . In itself, the audience is just like the ca rbon-arc lamp: it has no intcnsity, each ind ividual's energy is diffuse and dispersed. There is nothing inside a ny ofthese individua ls which could make them sources ofintensity in themselves. Ao event will only occur ir each one of these ind ividual instruments become attllned. Then all you need for something to happen is 1'01' a single vibratíon to pass through the allditorium but it cannot be produced jfthe thollsanU harps t ha t represent the aud íencc are not tu ned io the same way, to the same ten síon. The same thing occurs with the actors, T he first step in a perform­ ance is a process of ga thering and focusing thc dispersed energies 01' the audience, which in turn reflect the dispersed energies of the actors.28 T he goal in
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IIlc bidlll!CIil ,u.tl u IllII IIIIII' Ill llW lIll'UI DI' Barba , Bmok secs Ihe art 01' adillg as an cxpn:ssillll ni 1!lln'" ni cllcrglcs wlll'king sim ultancously in dilTcrcnt Jircction s UJlJ IlI t dil tc lcll llcvu ls. T he illtcract ion betwccn rcvo lutionary and theatrical ellcrgies, the lJl1ergics that have changed thc world and al most hrought ahout its destruction anJ those that are hoped to bccome significant on the stage, crea tes a perfo rmance in which po litical a nd social changes can sometimes be both creatively imagined amI perceived. IH'

Metaphysical eocrgies T he question 01' in what sense tbeatre and perfo rmance reveal metaphysical energies is m uch more complex th a n the d iscursivc practices eltamined so far. My aim bere is not to define what such energies are. I am not sure this can be done. But since theatre as an art-form has always been consid ered in t he con text of different religious and ritual practices, and since these practices are sllpposedly also a source of energy and power, what I wish to examine very brief'ly here is in what sense do such practices intensify an individual theatr­ ical performance? As I have argued abo ve, theatrc has the ability to ma\.;e sudden leaps between different ontological spheres that as a rule are separ­ ated [rom each other, and 10 combine them in new and unexpected ways. The stage is actually the 'si te' where such ontol ogical systems are brought together, even within the fictional world itsel f. The o ntological sphere. which frequent ly appears in theau'ical performances and which is obviousl y con­ nccted to different religious belief-systems, is represented by the appcarance ofsupcrnatural creatures. Even people who are deeply committed to a secular \Vorld-view ami today this seems to be the norm rather than an exception, at least amon g theatre-goe rs - are willing to accept that super-natural crcatures can appear on the stage in pcrformances. Throughout the history of the theatre various stage-machineries and other theatrical conventions ha ve bcen employed to enable the appearance of super­ natural beings. The most obvio LIS examples are the pagan gods in the Classical Greek theatre, God and the Devil on the medieval stages, and the appearance of ghosts 01' deaJ people in Elizabethan theatre . Even the non-appearance of Godot tn Beckett's now c1assical Waiting./or Godol , around which the entire 'action' ofthis play revolves , alludes directly to such a metaphysical dimension , which like so many other things in the world ofDidi and Gogo no longer exists. Regardless o f whether the appearance of such supernatural creatures is aimed at affirm ing the bcliefin lhem or is presented in an ironie light, as a critique 01' their 'existencc', they are lIsually endowed with a kind 01' energy and author­ ity lh at rad ieall y cha ngc:; the given sit ua tion on stage. Thc appearanee 01' the ghost ()f Ilam ld 's dcad !'a lher regard less of the beliefs ofthe speetators, is the sll~rn
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I'rom earlicr historical per ioLl s. when Ihen.: wa s a 1I llll'h t'ICll ln accc r lam:c uf th e belief-systems on which their 'existcm:c' was ha::.cu. WIJ ik () ur enj\)yl11l!n t tod ay of Ihe Oresleia is probably nol il11pairecl by Ihe I~)(.:I Iha l we do nol bcl icvc in the G reek gods, our underslanding 01' Aeschylus' trilogy is 1I11d o ubted l more limited than it was in the society for which it was composed, Even ir we only have a very limited access to the belief-systems on which this play is based we are, however. stilI able to appreciate the use oftheatrica l eo nventions likc the deus ex machina, T he appearance 01' a god on stage, usually frol11 aboye, in the central back-slage area, trad itio nally expresses the beJjef thal the gocls possess the power and ability to change the li ves o f humans in a pos­ itive manner. But even if the gods supposed ly no lo nger possess this kin d of power, the machineries through which they appeared on the stage are still fre­ qucntly used on our own contom po rary stages as a kind of'memory-trace' o f the power they apparently possessed in the past. Th is po tential to ch ange the human situation can even be seen as a kind of energy. which the thea trjcal traditions themselves have preserved , a lthough the devi ce itself can no longer claim its traditional po ten cy, A s 1 ha ve shown in detail in an o ther contexl, transformat.ions or ironical eJabora tions 01' lhe deu.\' ex machina have al so Ere­ quently becn employed in m odern thealre, in plays such as A ugUSl St ri ndberg's The D ream Play or in Bertolt Brecht's Three Pelll/y Opera amI T he Good Per SOfl o('Sezual1; while Wailingfór Godot dearly shows that this traditional machinery 10 does not \York anymore. In the modern theatre this convention is an expres­ sion of a metaphysical rupture and a void that can apparentl y not be fill ed . We are now , I believe. at a stage when tbe actor can also graduall y be redefined in metapbysical teIIDs, as an individual human being imbued wi lh otherworldly energies a nd forms of kno wledge, T his view of course has strong rools in different Oriental practices of the art of acting, which have become integrated in Western theatre through director-Iheoreticians such as Stanislavski, Brecht and Artaud. One 01' the most poignant contemporary expressions of such metaphysical understanding of the actor in a Western context ean be found in Wim Wenders ' film Der Himm el üher Berlin (Wings 0(' De.\'ire, 1987) depicting the then still divided ci ty. Ül which the actor i.s viewed as a fallen ange!. I ts sequcJ So Weit und.\'o N ahe (So Fa,. (lne! So e/ose, 1993), which takes pl ace in Berlin after the wa ll was dismantled and the two Germanies were unified, more or less preserves lhis initi al metaphysical con­ ception, The first film depicts the fall ofthe angel Da m iel, beca use of his love for the trapeze artist, Marion. As a fallen angel , who is also an excepti onal human being, he meets the actor Peter Falk, who confesses that he too is II former ange!. This is undoubtedly abo a fo rm 01' deus ex machina. The seco nd film shows how the fallen angels (the artists) and the angels who remain angels perform good deeds together. They are. howevcr. not able to ch a ngc the evils 01' the wo rltJ in uny radical way , T rad itionally lhe angel has becn seen both as a servanl or t1 IC J ivinc powers as we lJ as a fig ure of rcvolt Hga illsl Ihcm, T hl" lI~ h its 1',,11, Ihé angd JO-l

I lJll ,\ 'l'ltll :' j\l :J0CIIII1111;l tcs a ~ IIld 'Ir !lP " IIII, d p m\oC I alld ~ l1owlcd gé , whidl Cm W Cl1 ders is dinx:ll y C(I /lll c~lcd \Vi 111 1hl' 11 11 ,,1' aClll1¡'; a mI Ihe abi lil y tu tell lhe stmy 0 1' t he pasl. In the wakc "f Scc\'lI d World War lhe a ngcl has bc¡;omc a witnes~ orthe (ragic rai lurcs o fhi slo ry , Wal lc r Benjamín'::; seminal formulations on history in his essay ' Ü her den Begriff der Geschichte' (T heses on the Pbilosophy of lIistory) written in 194 1. during the Seco nd W o rld War, present:l such a position, According to Benjamin:

to articulate the past historieaIly does n o t mean to recognize it ' the way it really was' (R anke), lt means to seize hold 01' a memory as it flashes up a t a moment of danger. Historical materi alism wishes to retain that image of the past which unex pectedl y appears to man singled out by history al a momen t of danger. The danger affects both the content 01' the tradition and its receivers, JI The theatre, when it is good , could be seen as the arena or locus where such sparks of memory can both be created and perceived in the form of theat rical images. T he memories from the past through which history can be performed appear d uring sllch moments ofdanger, when we ha ve a sense that something from sLlch a fearfu l past is repea ting ilseJf, that it is appearing again, j usI like Ihe ghost of H arn let's father. W hen this happens, Benjamin argues, it affeets not only that pas!, as it is reformulated in the present, but can al so have a deep cffect on the spectators in the theatre. 1n one of the more fumolls passages from his fragmentary essa y on history, Benjami n has also presented a concrete image of sueh a memory - Pa ul Klee's painting 'Angelus N o vus': A Klee painting named 'A ngelus Novus' shows an angel looking as though he is about to move away from something he is fixedly conlemplating. His eyes are slaring, his mouth is open ., his wings are spreau, This is how one pictures the ange! of history . His face is turned toward the past. Where \Ve perceive a chain 01' events, he sees olle single calastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and h mls it in front of his feeL The angel would lile to stay, awaken the dead , and make wbole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer c10se them, This storm irresist­ ibl y propels him into Lhe future lo wh ich his back is turned , while the pile 01' debris hcfore him grow$ skyward, This storm is what we call pm b'TCSS . l ' This is tlH.: ant,d .. 1 !ti"'IlI V whll ís al Lh l~ :;ame time bolh historian and actor, caugh l by llw d,·.. II IIl ' II "l' 1'11\ !)' ll'S Ihit l Íl pcr·t.:cives as om: single catastrophc. In iLs a llcOlrto¡ 1(1 (11 JI 1111"1 I 11'0111 \'1" l'lIl"1 j'i.:s, (n a wakcn Lile deaJ. lo resu rrce!

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thcm , (which is onc orlllc things that the lhca lre can d n ). lhe angd is h urkd into the gradually cvolving ruture by the slorm 'we call progrcss ', This is indeed a very complex image, which can be given a constantly growing number ori nterpretations. In KJee's painting, however, the angel is facing lhe vicwer and \Ve do not see íts back. T h is mea ns. ir we inte r pret the p a inting in theatrical terms, that th e viewer's baük is t urn ed o n the past a lld s/he is looking into the future, T his po ints at an im pljcit Utopian d imension, a nother way of reading and perfo rmi ng the faílures of the past thro ugh the comp Je­ tion or history , Benjamín also co nfi rms such a Utopian possi bility in h is essa y on the phil osoph y 01' history, c1aiming that in every era the attem pt must be made anew to wrest trad itio n away frOIll a conformism that is about lo overpower it. Th e Messiah comes not only as the redeemer, be comes as lhe subduer of Anti­ christ. Only that historian \ViII ha ve the gift of fann ing lhe spark of hope in the past who is firmly convi nced lhat evcn the dead will not be safe from the enem y if he wins, An d this enemy has n ot ceased to be victoriolls.JJ T he theatre constantly strives to reaffirm such impul ses for liberation ex­ pressed by the actor \Vho through his or her creative energies is able to stand up for the dead . This is at least one o f the reasons \Vh y the theatre can ha ve such an exciting a nd deep effcct on us and can even, in some cases, become restorative .

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cha ra clcl , I1 yinp. III gll lll illl , IIIII ,II" 111 iI 110111 I hl' 01 he r cha racl.crs ill illid I ways, Ihc wilncss I'ICQll Cllll y hl'CIl1J1¡;:; u viclinl nI' somc lónn 01' viole ncc. Polonius, \Vh o is kill cd by Il umlcl \Vhile cavesdropping bchilld the arras in Gertrude's doset, actually beco mes lhe victim of his own transgression , wh ile trying to lind out the cause 01' Hamlet's madness, The 'tnlllsgression' ofthe actual spec­ tators o r lhe performance, ho wever, who are in a sense also eavesdropping on the characters on the stagc. rem ains unp uni shed . O ne ofthe rcasons for this is th a t instead of'punishing' the spectators for eavesdropping, perform ances as a rule contain situation s in which the on-stage eavesdropper-witness bet,;omes victi mi zcd as a sacrificial scapegoat. T he ea vesdropper is sacrificed insteaJ of the speclato r. The cathart ic process con sists 01' the mo re or less uncon scious negotiation a spectator makes with himJherselC from having ident ifi ed with the eaves­ dropper at lhe moment he (and eavesdroppers are as el rule men) becomes exposcd to some kind of threat. W hen the transgression 01' the eavestlropper on stage is puni shed , the spectators, who according lo this scheme have felt both pity and fear , become ritually c1eansed 01' these reelings. T his c1eansing carries a potential for creating emotional energies for the spectator, for not h aving been pllnished for his/her tra nsgressive scopophilic activity. Th is process of identificati on with tbe eavesdrop per, which is interr upted wbe n the eavesdroppe r becomes victim ised , a lso constitutes the basis for the theatrical ritual. The emotional process this implies can al so bring all the o tller onto­ logical fie1ds of energy logether, llnifyi ng them in wh at we co uld cal l the ' lotal experience' of a theatrical performance.

Notes The energies of the spectator The final issue 1 \Vant to examine brieOy here is that of how the energies that the spectator might experience during and as a res ult 01' a theatrical per­ formance - what we usually call c{/lh{/rsis, usually referred lo in English as p urgation of the emotions or pity and fear _. can be formulated. The wide range of discussions on catharsis that ha ve been carried out since Aristotle undoubtedly points at the inherent difficulties of formulating lhe more gen­ eral pri.nciples concerning the subjeetive reaction s 01' spectators watching a specitic performance. The re seem to be no objective criteria for communicat­ ing and examining the feeli ngs a performance elieits among its speeta tors , The emotions it triggers musl ra ther lead to a mixture 01' conjectllres and speculatio ns. One o f the possi ble strategies lo cope wi th this pro blema tic iss lIe is hasetl on an attempt to distinguish perfo ml ance tlevices. which are likcly lo c real\! a strong em otional im pact a rnong lhe specta to rs. One such dcvice is Ihe participtl lion of a spectato r-wilness in Ule per!onnam;c i!s el 1', As I have prcvio usly poi ntetl OllL,I4 beca use suc h an on-s l:t )!,c willl css is ;¡ trallsl!lcss iw

This artide is based 011 my leeture al th e syrnposi u11l on ' Rcvolution and Inslitu­ tion alization in the Theatre', at the Department for Theat re Studies, Tel Aviv Unive rsity. June 1l)9C). It is a somewhat different and more expanded version of a chapter in my forthcollling book Peljórming His/ory: Thea/ri fol Represel1lalions o//he Pas/ i/1 CO/1/emporary Thca/re, which will be published by lhe UniversilYof low
6 G reenblatt , ibid .; ~ .

7 Greenhl;ll l ¡hid ; (, (~'Iuph;¡sis mine. F,R .).

S G rcc nhla ll. Il> ld ' /

') Grc.:cll hlall . Ihld I

10 Mich,I('I(i\llduhlll 111/ I¡lt, / ' \ I I I "'llt llll" Til lJ '(/n/ll1!"''''' I' O( n mma, NcwY ork: I'h.: Vlklll j.'. l'l l"'.. " ,-"

'0(1

,"17

1'11 1\11 N 1,-; ANII ( 11« I I I'vISI /\Ni ' I; S "1 ' 1'ljI(l llI{MANC '1

11 G o ldmall , ¡hid .; 7.

12 Gold rnall . ¡bid. ; 2~ 24.

13 I lc rbcrt Blau, TIJe Eye (~( I'rey: Suhl'ersiIJl/s u( l/le I'lIsllllllt/('rn . Blool11ington:

Indi a na U niversily P rcss , 198 7; 165. 14 Herbe rt Blau, To Al! Appeaf('//ces: lde%gy and P eljórrnG/l1ce, Ncw York and London: R o utledge, 1992; 56. 15 Patrice Pav is, The;llre allhe Crossroads o/ C ullure. T rans. La ren Krugcr. London and Ne w York : R outledge, 1992; 39. [6 E ri ka F ischer- Li chte, T he S emiolics ol Tltealer , T ran s. Jeremy Ga ines and Do ris . Jones. Bloomington: fndiana U n iversity Press, 1992: 182. 17 Q uoted by Fischer-Lichte , ibid. ; 183.

18 Fischer-Lichte, ibid.: 183,

19 Fischer-Lichte, ibid .: 185.

20 Richard Sc hechner, BellVeen Th ea l f l! and Anlhrop%gy . Phi ladelp hia : U ni versity

of Pen nsylvania Press, 1985; 124.

2 I Schechner. ibid.: 119,

22 Schechner, ibid. : 124.

23 E ugenio Barba , Tite S ecrel ArlO/ lhe Peljórmer: A .Dictionary o/ Thealre A l1lhro­ p% gy . London: Routled ge, 199 1; 54. 24 Barba, ibid.; 54. 25 Barba . ibid .; 57. 26 Peter B rook , Tite Emply Space. New Y ork : Athen e um, 1982; 57, 27 Pe ter Brook , ' A ny Event Stems from C omb ustio n: Actors. Audiences an d Theatrical Energy' ( Inte rview with Jea n Ka lman). N eVo' T hemre Quarler/y , vnr, May 1992; 107. 28 Brook, 1992, ibid.; 108. 29 Brook , 1982, ibid. ; 11 7. 30 Frcddie Roke m, 'A Wa lkin g A ngel : On the Perfonnati ve F unctions of the H um an Bad y' . Assaph: S Iudies in Ihe T he(! Ire, 8, 1992; 113 - 126. 31 In W al ter Benjarnin, lIIuminaliol1s , Trans. Harry Z ohn. New Y ork: Schocke n Books, 1969; 255, 32 Benj amin, ibid. ; 257- 8. 33 Benjamin , ibid .; 255 . 34 F reddie Rokem, '1'0 hold as 'twere a mirror up to the spcctatar: " Kal/wrsis" - A Performance Pe rspect ive'. Assaph: SIl/die.\' in Tlteatre, 12, 1996; 101 - 109,

17

ON AC TI NG A NO NOT-ACT I NG Michael Kirhy So urce: 1111' Drama RellielV 16(1) ( 1972): 3 15.

Acti ng rneans to fe ign, to simulate. to represent, to im personate. As Happen­ ings demonstrateu . no t alJ perfonning is acting. Altho ugh acti ng was some­ times used , the performers in Ifappen ings generalJy tenued to " be" nobod y or noth ing other Lhan themsel ves; nor did they represent, or p retend to be in, a time or place d ifferent than that of the spectator. They walk ed, ran , said words, sang, washed dishes , swept, operated machines and stage devices, and so fort h, but they did not feign or impcrso natc. In most cases, acting a nd not·acting are relatively easy to recognize and identiry. In a perform ance, we usualI y know when a person is acting and when he is DOt. But there is a scale or continuum of behavior invol ved , ami the difTerences be tween acting and not-acting may be quite smalI. In such cases categorization may not be easy. Perha ps some would say it is unimportant, but, in ract , it is preciseIy thcse borderline cases that can provide insights into acting theory ami into the nature of the art. Let us examine acting by tracing the acting/not-acting continullm from one extreme to the other. W e \ViII bcgin at the not-acting end of the scale, where the performer does nothing to fe ign , simula te, impersonate and so fo rth. a nd movc to the opposite positjon , where behavior 01' the type th a t defines acting appears in abllndance. ol' course, when we speak 01' " acting" we are referring not to any one style but to alJ styles. We are not concerned , fo r example. witb the dcgree of "reality" but with what we can call, for now. the amoullt of acting .

ACTING

NOT -ACT ING

T hc rc am numcro us pcrfo rmances tbat do nolll.se acting. Many, but by no mca ns all, UtlllU! riCUl's wO ll ld lÜ into this catcgory. Severa! Far Eastern lhcatrcs ma kc \I ~l' \lt' ~lIU ~!C all cmJan ts su ch as lhe KurOlnho anu Kjjken 01' Kabuk i. l'hc'\\' ,, 11 \' lId ,11 11 '. 1I 11 1\1l' props ¡nto positi on anu remove them. h elp wi l h tlJl -Sla l'l' 1 ,-,,,1111 111' \ " 1I 1\ l! i~ . ,llI d ~'VI' II se r ve IC
1111)

H' 11 M t N ' " A N 11

j'

II{ I ' 11M ~ " A N t i " 11 I

" I It jo¡ , It NI 1\ NI' l'

l.hsli nguishcs lhcm rrom lhl; a¡;l\}rs. alllJ lhey are Ih)1 illduJed in lhe inforllla­ tional slruclure o rlhe na rra livc. Even iflh e :>pcctaLo r ign on.: s lhell1 as people, ho\Vevcr, they are not invisible. Thcy d o not ad, and ycl lhcy are parl or lhe visual prcscntation . As \Ve will see when we get to that point on t he continuu m, "acling" is activc- it refers to feign ing, simulalion and so forth that is dime by a performer. But represenlation . si muJa tion and o ther 01' the qual ities tha t defi ne acting may also be applied lo lhe perf011l1er. T he \Vay ln whieh a cost ume creates a "character" is one ex a mple of this . Let us fo rsake perfor mance for a moment and con sider how the "cost ume conti n uum " fu nclions in daily life. If a person Wears cowboy boots on the slreet, as man y peo ple do, we do not identi fy him as a eowboy. 11' he also wears a wide tooled-leather belt a nd even a Western hat, we do not see this as a costume- even in a nort hem city. It is merely a choice of c1othin g. As more and more items o fWestern c1othing- a bandan a, chaps, sp urs and so forth­ are added, ho wever, we reach the point w here we eit her see a cowboy or a person dressed as (impersonating) a cowboy. T he exact point on the con­ tinllllm at which this kind of ~;pecific identifica tion occurs depends upon several factors , the most importan l o f which is place or physical context, and it undoubtedly varies quite a bit from person to persono The effect of c10thing on stage functions io exactly the same way. but it is more pronounced. A perfo rmer weari ng only blaek leota rds and Western boots might easily be identified as a "eowboy." T his, 01' course, ind icates the symbolic power of costume in performance. It is importan t, bowever, to notice the degree to which the external symboli zat ion is supported and reinforced (or eootradieted) by the performer's behavior. If the performer moves (aets) like a cowboy, the identifieation is made much more readily. If he is merely himself, the identification might not be made at aJ!. At this stage on our acting/not-acting continuum we are conccrned with those pcrformers who do not do anything to reinforce lhe information or idcnti­ fication. When the performer, like the stage attcndants of Kabuki and Noh , is merely himself and is not imbedded, as it were, in matrices 01' pretended or represented character, situation. place and ti me, 1 refer to him as being " non­ matrixed. " As we move toward acting fram this extreme not-acting position on our continuum, we come to that coodition in whieh the performer does not aet and yel his costu me represents something or somcone. We could ca l1 this state "non-matrixed representation" or "non-matrixed symbolizat ion ."

/IN ,\1.' IINI; ,\1'1 1) NIl l

.\ ( I'LNfi

awarc 01'11)(' lit l,' ,,1 tllt "In e .11 11''''111(' sl Ol'y or O L'dirus , we l11 ighl a.s,.,umc t ha t this Iwr rollllc l I Cpl , '!'oC II!'; Ocdipus. I le does Il ot prctcnd lo Li mp, how­ cver. ¡\ slick h u~ bcc nlied "lo his right lcg undcrncath his pants in sllch a \Vay that ha wi ll be foread lo lill1p. " Whcn thc "main pcrformer" operates a tape recorder. as he docs frcqllcntly during the presenlation , we do not think that lhis is a rcprcsenlation of O edipus running a machi ne. It is a non- matrixed pcrformer d oing something. T he lighting of ineense and the easting of a reading from the I ChinK can be seen as a reference to the Delphje O rade: the three Iines of tape that the " Olain performer" plaees on the floor so tha t they converge in the eenter of the area ean be seen as rep resent ing th e place where, at lhe intersection oflhree roads. Ocdipus kil1ed his father , aud lhe limp (and lhe sunglasses thal the " mai n perfo rmer" wears th roughout the pieee) can be conside red to stand for as peets of Oediplls. The performer. however. never behaves as ¡f he were anyone othe[ than himself. He never represents elemen ts of character. He merely carries ou t eertain aetions. rn " no n-matrixed representatio n" [Jle referen tial clements are applied to the performer and are not acted by him . A nd just as Weslem boots do not neeessarily establish "a cowboy," a li m p ma y convey information wí thout establishing a performer as "Oedipus." W hen . as in Oedipll.~, a Ne w WOJ'k, the character and place matrices are weak, intermittent or non-ex.isten t. we see a person , not a n actor. As " received " references ¡nerease. however. it is di [fic ult to say tha t the performer is not aeting even t hough be is doinK nothing lhat we could defin e as acting. In a New York lll ucheo nette before C hristmas \Ve might see " a man in a Santa Claus suit" d rin king cofree; if exaetly the s,une action were carríed out on stage in a setting representing a rustie interior, we might see " Santa Claus drinking cotTee in his home at the North Pole." W hen the ma.trices are strong, persistent and reinforce each other. wc see an actor. no matter how ordinary lhe behavior. T his condition , the next step closer to true acting on om conlinuul11 , we may refer to as " received aCling." NOT-ACTINC Non-Matrixed Non-M atrixed Representation Performing

ACTINC "Received" Acting

In Oediplu, a Nell' Work (see T -5 1) by Jolm Pen-ea ull. the " main performcr, " as Perrealll l relc rs to hi m r.lt her lhan callin g hi m an actor. li mp!-i. Ir we are

Extras , who do nothing but walk and stand in coslume, are seen as "actors." Anyone merely walking aeross a stage eontaining a real istic setting might come to represent a person in that plaee- a nd, perhaps, time- without doing anything we could distinguish as actin g. There is the story of the critie who hea ded baekstage t o congratulate el friend and eould be seen by the alldience as he passed ou lside the windows 0.1' the on-stage ho use; ir was an opportune momenl in lhe :-.lmy, howcver. a no he was accepted as part 01' the play . Nor dile... tll~ lw lt avi\)r in " rcccivcd éH::ting" neccssarily need to be simple. Soml! ti mc ,Ipl! 1 tl l\ll'1I1Iwl rClldi ll !!- abolll él play in which Jo ho Garfield I'm bitly '! \l I ~'1I \\ I li t i1 ll hl1l1~'1 1 I lit' hl llgcr know lhe tille of Lhe play was

110

\ 11

NOT-ACT ING

ACTlNG

Non-Matrixcd

Noo-Matrixed

P errorJIÚng

Representation

• r - ~--I--W'_"" ' :J

"'1-:r-1~ 1\ · ~

II MAN,' I'

ex tr.L J> lIn u g \;ad l pI.! I I\H l il a 11 IX: he plaYl.'d l.'ry is inconl­ plete, let us imagine a setting n:prescnting a bar. In on e o rl he upstage bOOlhs, severa l men play ca rds throughoLlt the act. Let LIS say that none 01' them has lines in the play; they do no t rcact in an y way 10 the cha ra~ters in the story we are observing. Tbese men do no t acL T hey merely play cards. And yet we als o see them as cb aracters , however mi no r, in the story, and we say that they, too, are acti ng. We d o not d istinguish them fro m the o ther acto rs. If, as r would like to do. we define acting as som et hjng tha t is done by a perfom1Cr rather Ihan somet hing tha t is done fOl' o r to him, we have not yet arrived at tme acting on our scal e. "Recejved actor" is onl y an ho no rary titlc, so to speak . A lt hough the performer seems to be acting, he actuall y is not. N on-matrixed perform ing. non-m atrixed representation and " received " acting are stages on the co ntinuum that m ove from not-acting to acting. T he amoun! 01' simul a tion, representation , impersonation and so forth has increased as \Ve have m oved along the scale, but, so far, none of this was created by the perfomler in a special way \Ve could designa te as ·'acting." While actiog in its most complete form offers no problem of definit ion, our task in constructing a continuum is to design ate those tnmsi tional areas in which acting " begins. " What are the sj mplest characteristics that define acting? ¡UI

NOT-ACTl NG Non-Matrixed Non-Matrixed Peñ orming Representation

ACrfNG " Received" Acting

Simple Acting

They may be either physical or emoti onal. Ifthe performer does something to simulate, represent, impersonate and so forth , he is acting.lt does not matter what style he uses or whether the action is part 01' a complete characterization or informational presentation. No emotion needs to be in volved. The defini­ tion can depend solely on Ihe character ofwhat is done. (Valuejudgments, of course. are not invol ved. Acting is acting whether o r not it is done " \Vell " or accurately.) Thus a person who, as in the garue 01' charades, pretends to pul on a jacket tha l does not exist 01' feigns being ill is acting. Acting can be said to exist in lhe smallest amI simplest action that involves pretense . Acting also exists in emotiona I rather than strictly physical terms, however. Let us say, for example, that we are at a presentation by the Living Thea tre o f pOJ'adi se NQ",. It is that well-known section in which the performers, wo rking individually, walk through th e a uditorium speaking directly to the spectators. " I'm not allowed to trave! witho ut a passport, " they sayo "J'm no ! a llowed to smoke marijuan a! " ''/'m not allowed to ta ke my c10thes off!" T hey secl1l si ncere, disturbed ami angry. Are tbey acting? T he performers are themsclves; they are not portraying ch a raclers. Thcy are in the theatre. not in sorne imagin ary or rcpresen led place. Whal lhey say

11­

NO I

IIN

, l' IN (.

IS l'cr Ull lll y II \I ~' 11t,·\ ,IIl' 111 11 :rl lo\Vcd to Ilaw l al leasl bcl wcen eert a in l:nlll1ll;CS wilh u lI l a 1'11:-:-'1'"11 , the pllssessiol1 01' marijuana is uga inst the la w. AmI r Ih illk \Ve will .tll gralll lhal the pcrformers rea lly believe wha t they are saying- thal llrey rcally red these rules and regulations are unjust. Acting exisls only in their emotional presentation. At times in " reallire " we meet a perso n Ihat we feel is acting. This does nol mean that he is Iying, dishonest, living in an unreal wo rld , or tha t he is neces­ sarily giving a fa b e imp ressi on o f bis character a nd perso nali ty. l t means that he seems to be awa rc of an a udience-to be " on stage"- and thaL he reacts to this situation by energeticaJly projecting ideas, emo Lions and elements of his personality for the sa ke of the audience. Tha t is what the perfonners in Paradíse No ", were doing. They were acting their OWIl emotions and belief-s. Let us phrase this pro blem in a slightly different way . P ublic speaking, wbether it is extempo raneous or ma kes use of a script, may involve emoti on, but it does not nccessaril y in vo lve acting. Yet sOll1e speakcrs . while retaini ng their own characlcrs and remaiui_ng si ncere, seell1 to be acting. A t what point docs acting ap pea r? At the point at which the emotio ns are " pushed" for lhe sak e ofthe spectators. T tti s does not mean that the spea ker is fa lse or does not believe wha t he is sayi ng. It merely mcans that he is selecting and projecting an elemen t 01' character- i.e., ell1otion- to the audience . In other words, it does 110t matter whether an em otion is created to fi t an acting situati on o r whether it is simply amplified . One prin<.,'i ple 01' "method " acting--at least as it is ta ught in lhis country- is the use of whatever rea l fee1i ngs and emotions the actor has while playing the role. (In deed, this became quite ajoke: No matter what un usu al or uncomfortable physical urges or psy­ chological need s or problems the actoT had, he was advised to " use" them .) l t may be merely the " use" and projection 01' emotion that distinguishes acting froll1 not-acti ng. I think that this is an important point. II indica tes that acting involves a basic psychic or emotional component; although this component exists in all forms of acting to some degree (except, o f course, " received acting"), it , in itself, is en ough to di stinguish acting from not-acting. Since this element of acting is mental, a perforrner may act with ou t moving. I do not mean that , as has been mentioned previousl y. the motion less person " acts" in a passive and " received " way by having a character, a relationship, a place a nd so o n imposed on him by the information provided in the presentation. The ll1 otion­ less performer may convey certain attitudes and emotions that are act ing even though no physical action is involved. Further examples o f rudi mcntary acting- as well as examples 01' 11 0t­ acting- may he seen in the well-known " mirror" exercise in wh ich t wo pco ple sta nd raci ng c;ldl lll hl'l wlr ilc o ne copies or " rcf1ccts:' as if he wcre a mirror, the movcmt:l1ls 111 I h~' nlhl.'r. !\Ilhough Ihis is a n exercisc IIscd in tra in ing acto rs. i\¡;l ill r I I~cl l li, 1111 1 Iwp·,s:uily ill volvcd . T hc nwvcl\1cnls 01' the Iirsl pl:l1'on.
11-;,

Ilt . IiMnN 'l's "NI) (Un l IM SIAN I "S 11 1' l'IW Ill H M ANt' F

Eal:h /llig ht Illerdy rai se anJ Illwcr h i~ anl1 ~ Or tUI n hi:-. III: ad . 'rhe 1Il0VCIlwnts could be completely abstract. It is here, however. tha t the perccived relationshi p belween the pcrformer amI what he is creating l:an be seen to be cr ucial in the defin ition of acting. Even "abstract" mo vements may be personificd and maJe into a charaeter of sorts through the perfo mler's attitude. If he secms to indicate " 1 am Ihis thing" rather than merely "1 am doing these m ovemen ts," wc accept him as lhe "th ing": He is ac ling. O n the other hand , we do nol al:eept the " mi rror" as acting, eve n though he is a "representa tio n" or the first person oIle lacks the psychie energy that would turn the a bstract ion into a person incation . If an attíL ude of " T'm im itating yo u" is projectcd, however ífpurposefuJ distortion or"ed itoria liz­ ing" a ppears rather than lhe neu tral a ttit udc 01' exact co pyin g- tbe mirror becomes an actor even though the origin a l movements were abstract. The same exereise may easily in volve aoting in a mo re obvious way. T he first person , fo r example, m ay pretend to shave. T he mjnor, in copying these reigned actions, beco mes a n actor now in srite of his neutral att itude. (We could call him a " received actor" beeause, li ke character and place in our earlier examples, the representatio n has been " put upon " him without that inner creative attitude and energy necessary fo r true acting. H is acting, li ke that of a marion ette, is controlled from the outside,) If the o rigina tor in th e " mirror" exercise puL on his jacket. he would not necessarily be acting; if he o r the " mirror," not havi ng a jacket, pretended to put one o n, it would be acting, and so on . As we have m oved along the conti nuum from not-acting to acting, the amount of representation, pcrsonificaLio n a nd so fo rth has increased. Now that we have arrived a t t rue aeting, we might say that it, too , varies in amollnt. Small "amounts " of acting- lik e those in the examples that ha ve been given- would occupy that part or the scale closest to " received acting: ' and we could move along the continuum to a hypothcticaJ " maximum amount" of acting. Indeed. the only alternative would seem to be al) " on-off" or " all­ or-nothing" view in which all acting is theoretically (if not qualitativcly) equal and undiffe re ntiated. " Amount " is a difficult word to use in this case, however. Since, especially for Americans, it is easy to assume that " m ore-is-beltcr." any refcrence to amount might be taken to ind icate relative value or worth. It would be betler to speak of " simple" and "complex " acting with the hope that these terms can be aecepted as objective and deseripti ve ra t her tha n cvaluative. After a ll , "simple" and "complex" are terms that Illay be aseribed quite easily a nd without implied value judgment to other performance arls such as music and dance. A bailad is relative1y simple cOlllpared to a symphony; lhe o rdi na ry fox trot is much less complcx iban th e t1lmed dances o r Fred Astairc. Lel LIS appl y l he same kind o f analysis 10 act ing, rCfll cm bering lhat "simple" éll:t ing, such as we saw in the " mi rror" exercisc, muy be very "good ," wh ilc complex acting is nol necessaj'i ly "good" a nd may, illl,ked, he QU ill' "bad ,"

11 1

IIN "( '0 11 1Jlh!x" al'lillF I h l' lI wl lll ld he lile IIl1all:o ndili o n llll our adillg/lIllt­ ad ing cOlltillll ll lTl . W Ilal do \Ve mean by "l:()1l1plcx" acting'? In what ways can act illg be "simpk" 01' "l:o mplex'?"

NOT- ACTING Non-MatTixcd Non-Matrixed Performing Represcotation

'"Received" Acting

Simple Acting

ACTING Complex Acting

The si m plest aeting is that in whieh only one element or dimension of acting is used. Em o tion , as we have seen, ma y be the o nly area in which pretense takes place. O r, as in the "mirror" exe rcise, on ly an aetion sueh as putting on a jacket may be simulated. Other acting exercises a ttempt to isolate various aspects of acting, and they are proof that behavior, which is complex ocan be broken down into simp le un ils. The simple/compJex scale also applies to each individ ual aspeet o f acting. Elllotion may be generalized and unchan ging, or it may be specifie, modulat­ ing an d changing frequentl y within a gi ven period of time . An action may be performed in a simple or a cOlllplex way. In the game ofcharades, for example, we may only indicate that we are putting on a jacket. As long as our tearo understands what we are doing, the acting is suceessful. Th e sa me action becomes mo re complex as details such as the resi stance 01' the material , the degree 01' fit , lhe weight of the jacket and so on are acted. (The word " indicate " tha t was just used in eonnection wilh c harades has negative connotations in the technical voca bulary ofthe A merican " meth od ." Practitioners 01' the "method " cannot acccpt an element of acting that eJtists in relative isolation and is nol totally integrated by being "justified" and related to other elements. In other styles, however. isolated acting elements are per­ fectly acceptable and a re used , alllong other things, to focus attention.) Acting becomes complex as more and more elements a re incorporated ioto the preten se. Let us say that the pcrformer putting on a jacket is part of a scene : he Illay choose to aet emotion (fear, let us say), physical characteristics (the person portrayed is old), place (there is a bright sun) and man y o tber elements. Each of these could be performed in isolation , but \-vhen they are presented simultaneously 01' in cIose proximity to each other the aeting bccomes complex. In a like manner, it is obvioLls that when speech is added to mime the n:sultant acting is mo re complex than the mime ¡¡Ione; the acting in volved in a staged rcadin g wi ll , in all likelihood. be less complex than the acting in a fully staged production of the same script; and so {'orth. Ln part, com plexity is related to skill and technical ability. Sorne styles make use 01' a highl y specialized vocabulary that is quite complexo T his does not eonlra¡J icl Ollr ca rlicr sl;¡tement that the ¡jcting/not-acting l:ontinuum is independc!1 1 or val uc jlld)' lI1cnts. It is not él quest ion 01' whether a performer C~1ll Jo ccrtain \"llI lIpk \ .t\'l i ll~· well hui w hether he can do it al all . Anyonc l:..11l llel: 11 11\ eVr:IVlll ll' ~, III lit 11 11 . l l·II\1 IPlcx Wi.I)', 11 :1

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Belief may exist in either the spectator or the perl'ormer, bu t it does not effect objeetive dassification acco rding to our actÍJ.1g/not-acting scale. Whcther an actor feels what he is doing to be " real ," or a spectator really " beli eves" what he sees, does not change the c1assifica tion of the performan ce; it merely suggests another area or para meter. Various types and styIes of acting are, indeed, seen as more or less realistic, bu!. except as an indication of style, the word " reality" has little usefu lness when applied to acting. From one point of view, all acting is. by de finition, " unreal" beca use pretense, impersonation and so for th a re in volved. Frorn a nother point of view. all aetJng is real. Philosophically, a No h play i ~ as real (if not as rea listic) as a C hck hov production. Pretcnse and ilTlpcrsona lion.

L'VC Il in Ll lOsc 1'llIl'l'I"~' ... "" lll'" 11",:v a n: 11111 rCl.'ol!lIizccJ ;J ); SlICI!, al'(: as real .IS an ylhing cisc. Mosl plays, (JI cn urse. cvell lite I1lOst lIaturalistic ones, Jo not attern pt to roolthc o bserver il1to thinking that they are " reaJ" - that they do not involvc acting. Illusionary stagccraft and rcalistie acting do not intcnd or expect to be taken ror real life any more than an illusionistic painting is intended to be mistaken for what it represents. In alrnost all pcrfo rméll1ces, we see the " real " person and also tha t which he is represenl ing or pretending. T he actor is visible within the eharaeter. T o say that no perfo rmance COl' deeei ve a spectator wQuld not be true, however. True and complete iJlusion is possible in theatre; acting may actu­ ally "' Jie," be believed , and be seen as not being aeting at all. This happened in Norman TaffeJ's Little r ,.ips (T -51). The entire performance was designed to move from the context ol' "art" to that of " life." M any people actually believed it; indeed. some never discovered Lhat what they though t was a real argument that "destroyed " the perform a nce had act ually been acted . (D uring Little Trips the two performers cha nged fr om a rather sim ple form 01' aCling lhat couId be mo re-or-Iess co pied by participating members of the audicnce to a conversational style, t he realism 01' which \Vas, perhaps, heighlened by the contrast. In terms of ou r previous discussion of acting, however, it is important l o note that the effect 01' reality did not depend entirel y on the acting. Il is not only the behavior 01' the performers. but the total performance experience that determines the spectator's response. What creates an ill usion in one eontext wiU n ot necessa rily do so in another, and in other frames of reference the same acting \vould ha ve remained " acting. ") There is another type of performance in which the spectalor does not recognize the acting for what it really is. L remember meeting an Argentine archi tect who told ol' her experiences at an all-night religious ceremony of some sort on the Northern coast of BraziJ. At one point, costumed performers appeared who were thought to be dead aneestors. This causcd panic among the believers beca use the daors were locked , and they thought if these ghost-beings touched them they, too, \Vould die. Although belier of this kind obviously elTccts the quaJity of the experience, it d oes not mean that pretense, im personation and so forth were not involved in the performance. The appearanee of the "dead" ancestors was acted. Even if Lhe perfo rmers believed themselves to be dead , aeting \Vould have been involved. Belief \Vollld not change the objective fact that something or someone was being rcpresented. This is not to say that belief cannot be an important aspect 01' actin g in certain styles. A principIe of the "melhod " that aehieved the sl alurc 01' a cliché was lhe a ttempt by the actor to " really belicve" what lhe d lllracll:1 was dl1i ll g. Ir he was S lICl;eSSfu1. the a udience wo uld " rcally bcliew," lun , '1lIl'l'e is 110 qucstion that th is approach has frequentl y be<:n lilH.:Cessl'u l, Illl' 11111'1111'1 I \l hd icvc unuouhled ly at uü ns 0 1' approaches

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Yd lhc anu lysis Ot' acli llg ac(,;ordill g, l o sim rh:/¡'tlll ll'lc\ dile:; Ilo t Ilcccssar­ ily dislinguish u ne slylc rrom an ot hcr, a lt ho ugh il co uld he uscd lO wll1parc styl es of acting, Each style has a cerlain range whe n lm:asured on a simple/ complex scal e. and in almosl all performances lhe degree of com plexity varies somewhat from moment to moment. lt would be impossible to say, ror example, that the reaListic sty1e 01' acting is necessari ly more com plcx than the "Grotowski style" of expressionism. Realism, in its most (,;omplete and detailed form, would certainly be considered relative ly complex. Yet there are rna ny approaches to realisrn ; some- such as rhase used in ITlany filrn s---ask very little a l' the actor and wo uld be considered relativcJ y simpl e. T he film acto r rnay do ve ry little, wbjLe the camera and the p hysica l/inrorma ti onal contexl do tbe " acling" for him . 011 the other hand, a non-rea li st ic style such as !hat developed by Grotowski can a bo be extremely complex. W hen T saw 1'Ire Omstant Prince, I felt th at J had never seen performers aet so muc!z: The im pression was not o ne 01' over-acting but 01' roany thi ngs taking place sim ul­ laneously in the wo rk of a single actor. During the Prince's long monologs. the other performers did not decrease the complexity of their acting; their bodies were freqllcntl y involved in numerOllS, detai1ed, small-scale move­ ments. In part, at Icast, tbi s eomplexity may be explained by G rolowski's exe rcises that are designed to develop the a biliLY 01' the actor to express dil'ferent, and even contradictory, things wi th different parts of hü; body al the same time. I-I owever, other companies th at use what may be recognized as "G rotowski style" act very simply. ThllS, we ha ve arrived al a scale lhat measures the amount or degree of representation, simulation, imperson a tion and so forth in performance beh a­ vior. Although the polar sta tes are "acting" and "not-acting," we can fo llow a eontinuous im:rease in the degree ol' re presentati oTl rrom non-matrixed performing tbrough non-matrixed representation , " reeei ved acting" and sim­ ple acting to compl ex aeting.

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Tho most impo rtant single factor in th e recent changes in perform ance has been the so-ca lled "Hap pening. " H appeni ngs , o f eourse, are now a part 01' history. The term is best used in a eomplete ly histori eal and soeiological way to refer to th ose works crea ted a s part of the interna tio nal H appen ings movement 01' lhe early and mid '60's, (The first piece called a 1lappening was done in 1959, but other generieally similar works preceded it, a nd the term is important only as a referenee and as a popular catch-phrasc.) 1'he necessa ry thing to no tice, howevcr, is thal works wh ich , on completely fom1a1 g ro unds, cuu ld be ca lled " Ha ppen ings" continuc lo be done and thc:ll almo~t a ll or lhe Illa ny in n()vati ons produced by Ilappenings have been ap plictllO na rrat ive, inrormationa l. acted lhea tre. ¡\lthough I have no \\Iish (() perpclua tl.' the name, those w ho lhink thal ll a ppen ings were lI nimpOrl all l. ur th at Ihe thea ln: rorl1l

charactcri l.cd by II"r pcIIÍlI~'~ " I\u IOll gl'r alivc Illcrdy beca use Ihe word is 110 longcr used . al\! lilcraly ami don't llll(k r~tand the nalurc o fthe fonn. At an)' ratc, the Ha ppc ning ca n hl!lp lo cxplain much about current dcvclopments in acting. Uoclcr the dircet influence ol' lJ appenings, every aspect of theatre in this country has changetl : scripts have lost their importa nce a nd performances are created collectively, the physical rela tionship of a udience an d performan ce has been altered in ma ny different ways and has been maJe a n inhefent par1 of the piece, audience participation has been in vestigated . " found " spaces rather tha n theaLres have been used for performance and severa! different places employed sequcn tially for the same perfo nnance, t here ha s becn an increased empha sis o n movemen t and on visual imagery (oot to mention a soon-commercialized use of nudity), and sO forl h. It wouJd be difficult lo find a ny avant-garde performa nce in this country tha t did not show the infl uencc 01' H appenings in one way or another. But Ha ppenings made li u le use 01' acting. H ow, then , could they llave anything to do with the recent changes in acting? One wa y 10 see this is to exa mine the historical relationship between H a ppenings and the more prominent United Sta tes thealre groups. The history is no t ver)' old . but t hi ngs are forgolten very quickly. The last pl ay thar the Living T heatre produced before going into their period of self-imposed "exile" in Europe was T/U! BriJ:. I t was a reaListic play with supposed documentary aspeets, and it emphasized the " fo urth wall "-a high \Vire-mesh fence closed off the proscenium open ing, separating lhe spectators and the performers. W hen Le Li.'ing opened their next productio n in Paris in October 1964, their style anel fo rm, if not the socio-political nature of lheir content, had ehanged completely. Myste,.;es alld Smalle,. Pieces (1'-32) was a Happening. (They wo uld later do another piece, Pa,.adise Nolt', that could aJso have been called a " Happening. " ) O f eourse, Mysteries was not called a " H a ppening" by the Living Theatre, and few , especi in Mysf(lrie.'i and SmaJIe,. Pieces call1c rll lJll /'/11 Ud); hlll t1 ll ll'll \11' ji was takcn rrom outsidc th e gro up and wa s idClI lll'¡d 111 ~ 1I 1 11J¡11 I,j Vi ii \1111\ I'vellt :t IlU Ilürp~!ning images .

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* * * D uring the last ten o r twelve yea rs, theatre in the United States has under­ gone a more complete anJ rad ical cbange than in any o ther eq ui va lenl period in its hi story, A t least th is is true of the theatn: considered as an art ra tber than as a crart, b usiness or entertainment. Since, in the past, a lmost aJI 01' America n theatre has been eraft, business or entcrt
just one thing- the attempt to imitate life in a realistic a nJ de ta iled fashio n .

T hus eclecticism or di versity in the a p proa ches to actin g is one aspeet o f the recent change in American theatre. In terms of o ur lheoretical acting/ not-acting continuum, however, we ca n be more specific: There has, within the last ten yea rs, been a shift toward lhe not-aeting end of the sea le . This means not only t bat more non-matrixed performing has been used bul th at­ in a numbe r of ways, acting has grown less complex. A brief review of reee n t devclopments wilJ allo'.v us to examine how this has come about while al so providing additional examples of the various a reas 011 the acting/not-acting scalc.

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111 ol1e n I' lhe la ter scCIion:; nI" ft lyslt'rie.\·, a 11 01' lhe IllC lllbcrs 1'1' /111: L'asl died . T hat is, lhcy pretended to dic. Dcath can be symbolized , bul Ihcy chose lo acl it. No aCling of this sort was ta k.i ng place in the Ha ppenings; the Living chose lO use elements of aeting wi thin the I lappening structure. But the aCling J id 110t involve character, place 01' situation- other than, perhaps, lhe conditions of the J\rtaudian plague that was the ca use 01' dea th. T hc aclo rs were on ly themselves " d ying" in lhe aisles and o n the stage of the thcatre. This simplification o factin g is ty pical ofmuch ofthe work in the new tllealre. Indeed , the movemcnt toward the no rr-matri xed or " reality" end of our acti ng, not-acting continuum made so me wonder when death itsclf wo uld become real ra thel' than " mercly" acted in performance. In Happening-li ke presentations, Ral ph Ortiz-and others before him-had decapitated live chicken s. Peter Broo k incl uded lhe b urni ng of a b utterlly in Us. (Live butterflies were seen f1ying out of él b ox, but t here is some dou bt whethel' the burned butterfl y \Vas indeed real. Cutting the head o ff a ch icken ma kes deat h obvi ous; a butterfl y can be "faked." " We cannot tell ," reads the script o f USo" if il is real or false ." One or lhe scenes in M y sleries ulld Smaller Pie ces was a sound-and­ movement cxcrci se taken from the Open Theatre. Two li nes o f perrormers face each other. A performer from one line moves toward the other line making a particular sound-and-movemen t combinatí on . A pc rson from the second line " takes" the movement and so und , changÍllg thcm before passÍJlg them on to someonc in the first line, and so forth. Líke the " m irror" exercise th a t was discussed earlier, thi s use of an acting exercise as an actual performa nce is one way to simplify acting by concentrating on one 01' a limited number of elements. Exercises, often morc integratcd into the action than was th is example, are freqllently used in the new thcatre for their performance qualit­ ies an d expressiveness rather than for their training values. I be1ieve that it was this same exercise that opened the first public perform­ ances of the O pen T heatre . These presentations, which began in December. 1963, and continlled into 1965, combined various exercises and short plays on the same bill. It would be foolish to c1aim a kinship with Happenings fo r these " va riety " programs, but one wonders whether the similarily bctween the exercises and certain "ga me" and task-oriented work by, among othe rs, the Judson Dance Theatre did not suggest the possibility of presenting lhe exercises, which were designed to be done privately, to the public. Yet another company that showed exerciscs and made them part of a longer piece is The Perfonnance G roup. In their first public presentation, on a 1968 benefit program with other groups, they performed an "Open in g Ceremony" composed of exe rci~es adapted frorn Jerzy G rotowski with ce/'­ tain vocal additions, Th is "Cerernony"-d ro pped, as I reca ll , a fter Grotowski 5aw lhe prodllction- was in DiQny.~m· in 69 when it opcncd. Grolowski himsel f would never sh ow exercises as perrormance. T his merely em phasizes the com plexity 01' his wor k a nd lhe differe m:e betwct:n it anJ cvcn the peorlc in th is cou ntry who werl' rnost infl ucnccd by it.

The en c l.:l ,,1 1111 Jlpl.' lI 11 Ir ' (111 RlI'l lll ld SdICdIlH:I''s WllI'k prcJ ated T he l'l'rl"orrn anl.:c ti l lH lp hU\'t\,·vc r . Ilr e New Orleans liroup, which he organized in late 1965, prmhlCcu a 1:lI g..: ;r rrJ spcctacul a r Il a ppening in 1966 and then adaplcd lhc varilllls lcdrnical rneans alld Ihe audience/perfo rmance rcla tron ­ slrip oftlre Ilappcn irrg to an "environrnental" production of]oncsco's Vict;m.~ I~l DIIIJ' in 1967. The use of real mImes, personal anecdotal material a nd s rórlh in Diony,\'lIs in 69 can be seen as an attempt to move away from complex acting towa rd the non-matrixed performing o f Happenings. Happenin gs somehow gained the rep utation rol' cx hibitionism ; some cer­ tain!y had "cam p" aspects. It was probably their use o fthe untrained pcrfomler the "fo und " person/a ctor, so to speak- tha t had the most inl'l ucn ce on the Thealre of the R id iculolls. John Vacarro , who pcrformed in at least o ne o f Robert W hitrnan 's Happenings , has explained how impo rtant lhe cxperience was to him. The unabashedly hOl11e-made quality of many Ha ppenings was also an in spiration to man y people who did nOl ha ve an inclination toward slickness, craft a nd techniquc. I do not mean to suggest that the general m ovement toward simplifica­ lion 01' aeling is entirely dile to the direct intl uence of Ila ppenings. There have been many factors, a ll interdependent to some exlent: Viola Spolin 's improvisations; G roto wski 's emphasis on confrontatí on, disarming and lhe vía negatil'a; an interest in de veloping ensembles; the early desire 01' tlle Open Theatre to find techniques that were applicable to the Tbeatre of the Absurd. (1n regard to the last, it should be noted that, with Terminal, the Open Theatre rno ved into a forrn quite similar to sorne H a ppenings in both structure and use o f imagery.) Y et influence can also be indirect. l-I appenings have contributed their share lo thc creation 01' a state of mind that values lhe concrete as opposcd to the pretended or simulated and that does not require plots or stories. The most origin a l playwright of recent years, Peter H anclke, has worked in this area . Although his plays are quite different fro m most of lhe new theatre in this country. l11uch of it illustrales the sal11e concern \Vith simplification of acting. Offendillg tire Audience and Self-Accu.~ati()n by Handke are rather unu sual plays. if they can be called pl ays a t a11. Han dke refers to them as " speak-ins" (Sprechstücke). They do not ernploy any matrices of placc or character. T hey takc place on pla in , bare stages; the actors do not rel a te to or refer to imaginary locales. The pcrformers are themselves; they are not dressed in any un usual way, nor do they portray ch amcters. In fact Handke has written dialog for performers wh o do not neccssarily have to act. The scripts require no pretense o r em otion, The pcr i'nml GrS spcak . T hey have memorized wh at Ha ndke has wri tten, a nd lhcy ha VL' Il'lH'arscd /lu t lhis does nOI, in itself. make él pe rson an actor. Pcop le n:dll' pUl'ln" :IIIU sp¡;cl.:hes wi lho ut Hcting . M usician s rehearsc, are l.;\m¡;l!rn~J \V II II 11111 111 1' IC'''pPlld '" elles. Nonc o l' lh csc racto rs defi nes aCling.

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What thc pcrfonncrs say are , almost cntircly, J ircc! sta lcnwnts th al woulJ be true no matter who was speaking them. In Ofle,uJin~ tlle Audiellce thcy speak about the performance situation: "You are sitting in rows ... Vo u are looking at us when we speak to you .. . This is no mi rage . .. The possibilities 01' lhe theatre are not exploited bere." In Self- AcclIsatiof/ lhe two "speakers," as HanJke calls them rather than "actors, ~ talk about themselves: " 1 carne into lhe wo rld . .. I saw ... I said my nam e." There is no nced lo act in order to perform this materi al. 11' Sell-Accusatifm were pl ayed by a blind "speaker," howevcr, the statcment ") saw" wou ld be untrue. Or, to take a somewha lless facetio us cx arnpJe from the later passages that are no longer so uni versa lly applicable, ~rtai n people could not say, as if they beJieved it, the line " 1 carne into the wor ld affl icled with original sin" without feign ing. Bul even él blind poTSon cOLl ld use lhe word "saw" metaphorically. and Handke does not suggcst th aL ea ch of the lines has to be given as if the speaker believed it. There are interpretation s that would avoid a ny kind of acting during the performan ce. 00 the other han d, th ese observations are bascd on ly on the script , an d there is no script, includi ng Hand ke's " speak-ins." th a t ean prevelft aeting. Let us say that a performer ereates an emot ion . rn Oflellding tIte Audiellce, for example, he pretends to be angry at the spectators when, aClu ally, he is glad that they are there. An element of acting has been added to the performance. The presentation would then be using what we have called "sirnple" acting. Under él certain director, each 01' the actors rnight even create a "well­ rounded " cbaracterization; the acting could becorne complex. Knowing the eagerness of actors to aet, I doubt whether there has ever been a production 01' these scripts tha l did. in faet, avoid the use of acting. llandke's My Foot, M)' Tllt ar (T -49) makes use of simple aeting by reduc­ ing the performers' means: the two characters do not talk , they \Vear neutral half-masks and, for the mosl part, they perform ordinary rnovemenls (thal sometimes seem extraordinary beca use they contradict expectaneies and do not "l1t" the context). The play does inv olve characters- a Warden and a Ward- but much of the action provo kes the question " What is acted, and what is real?" There is a cat in the play. A cat cannot be trained and does not act: In the performance, "The cat does what it does." Timing depends on the will of the actor, but the length of one scene depends on tbe length of time il actually takes water to boil in a tea kettle. T he Ward eats an apple just as he would ifhe were not acting: " ... as if no one were watching. " Yet he fails, for no reason , to slice a beet with a large amI powerflll bcet-cutting machin e: ObviollSly he is only pretending. These sc.Tipts by Peter Handke show. a rnong other things, Ihat Ihe play. wright, too, may use an awareness of the acting/not-acting continll um. Although his control- exerted onJy th ro ugh tJle wri tten won.! over lhe complexüy 0 1' act ing is limiled. he may sti ll dea l wilh Ihe naturc and t1egrec 0 1 acti ng itself as an elernent in lhe script. Andllandh 's cllrly WM" is all olhcr

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* * * It must be emphasized that the acting/not-acting scale is no t intendcd to cstabüsh or sllggest values of any kind . Objectively , all points on lhe scale a re cqually good. It is onl y personal taste that prefers complex acting to simple acting 01' non-rnatú xed perfo rming to acting. The various degrees of repres­ entation and personification are "colors," so to speak . in the speclrum of human performance; the artist may use whichever colors he prefers. In spite of Ha ndke's ex ampl e, o nc importance of attempting a fomlUlation sucb as the act in g/not-acting scale lies in the ract 1hat it is a practical theaLre tool as opposed to a literary o ne. The qualities and characteristics 01' acting can be deterrnined onl y in performance. We have a great heritage in the an a­ Iysis 01' dram a tic literature, but it is vitally necessary to develop techn iques and method s for the analysis of performance. Such analysis need nol be purc1y philosophical and academic. Just as literary analysís contributed much to pl aywriti ng, performance anal ysis should con lribute directly to all 01' tbe arts 01' the stage. 1t should be relev­ anC pragma tic, eminently useful and stímulating.

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SCREEN AC TIN G AN D T HE

COM M UTAT ION T ES T

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Sourcc: Screen 19(2) (1978): 55 69.

I At the moment , only those \Vho oppose lhe semiotic study ofthe cinema seem to \Vant to lalk a bo ut screen acting. Sinee a good ueal 01' the mea ning of the fktion fil m is borne by its actors a nd their perfonnances, this amoun ts to leaving an imp ortant territory in the hands of t he enerny (to put jt over­ belligerently). And some of the standard doctrines and endlessJy rediscovered 'tr ulhs' about actor and role, screen vsstage and so on may he inhibiting not only c ritical but al so creative practice in the cinema. Yet it is understand­ able why this gap in the semiotie programrne remains. Performances seem ineffable, and thinking about them induces reveri e ra ther than analysis. In this essay I want to pro pose the control1eu ex tensi on of one semiotie tech niq ue as a way of rehabilitating one m ode of reverie. The techn ique is called the commulatio/1 test in European structurallinguisties. I hope it will be plain that 1 do not believe that importing the Lechnique will suddenly make our discourse about aeting 'scientific': any advan tage jt brings will be more modest. Aowever, Tdo think we need to start p rompting a more methodical and reftexive discourse in this whole area, and here the test may help.

II To begin with, he re is a quotation from a recent essay by David Th o mson which exemplifies, very fl exibly and in telligentl y, the reverie a pproach lO screen acting. The point the quota lion fi rst ma kes is a fa mili ar o ne. Brecht, summing IIp a conversation wi th AJorno in his diary in 1942, asscrted t llaL 'the thea lre's first au vantage over lhe film is ... in lhe d ivision belwee n play and perfo rma nce', unu continllcd ' t he m echunica l rc rrouuctillll g ivcs 'vcrylhi ng [he chanH.: lcr o l' a reslI ll: un rrcc tln d inallerahlc', ' T h~,msoll sa ys \2. \

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Ihe sa llu: Ihillg . .llId Ih ~' 1I hui h~'''ll ilntly , as ir lhe l'xe rcisc he proposcs is sOlllchow IlICllH'th) logivillly indekllsih\e lIlanocuvrcs arollnd this apparent bloáage at the ht!arl 01' tite dllc ma's ' nature': 'Stage parts are like concertos - they are su pple, 10ft Y and impersonal en ough to take on alJ corners. But pa rts in film s Jive o nly briefl y: li ke virgin ity, onue taken, they are 110t there to be inhabited aga in . Before shooting, all m<1nner of cho ices may perplex the ¡¡Im-maker~ a nd keep the part blurred: K im Novak 's pa rtls) in Ver ligo 'vvere designed for Vera Mi les: Sh irlcy Temple was fi rst choice to play Do roth y in The W izard (ij' 02 - imagine how "Over the Ra inbow" might have been cosy anu wistful instead ofthe epitome ofheartbreaking J reams. . .. Once a film is made no one else can play the par!. ... the lext in mo vies is the appearance. AlI credit then to i\ndrew Sarris . _ . for indicating the waste in argu­ ing ove¡- Vi vien Leigh or Merle O beron in Wyler's WUlhering Ifeighls. Ami yet ... the clitic can usefltBy learn things aboLlt film through such speculations .. .. 1l' Verligo had had Vera Miles then the girl might have bcen as near to breakdown as the wife in The Wrong M an , and not the numb pa wn 01' the plot that makes Novak pathetic and touchin g.... Or - think how sentimental Kan e mi ght be if Spence r T raey had been the lycOOD . Tbat is useful if only to i>how how littJe eonvention al feeljng the film has.'2 Wh at ram struck by is an analogy between 'such speclllations' and an 'oper­ ative coneept . . , already found in Trubetzkoy, bu l , , . cstablished under its present name by Hjelmslev alld Udall , at the Fifth C ongress of Phonetics in 1936'.' The name given it was wmJnutaÚol1, a word with unfortunate penal impl ications in English but originally synonymous with 'substitution' .4 Roland Barthes discusses the commutation tesl in Elements (JI Semiology, but in a very compressed mann er : 'The commutation test consists of artificially introducing a change in the plane of ex pression (signifiers) and in observing whether this change brings about a correl ative modification on the plane of con­ tents (signifieds) . . .. if the commutation of two signifiers produces a commutation of the significds one is assured 01' having got hold, in the fragment of syl.1 tagm sllbmitted to the test, of a syntagmatic unit: the first sign has been cut o rf rrom the mass . 'o Gi ulio Lepschy puts it cvcn m ore brieft y: ' By tlll' 1 III/IIl l lIttt/ ;r111 In! we ":
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What do these formll la tions mean? Some di ffe rences in languagc make a differenee sem an tically ; others do n't, th o ugh they are perceptible and may bea r information about lhe speaker's regíon, social d ass , sex, and so forth ; still others are im perceptible save by means ol' sophistica ted measuring instru­ ments. The d ifference belween p and h is of the fi rst sort (palh and halh aTe diffcrenl word s), wh ile that between a higher (J as pronotlllced in l he north 01' England ane! the lower a of the so uth is of the seeond sort (ba/h is the same word wi th either a), The commutatio n test stri ctly speaking sirn ply involves lrying out a sound cha nge and o bserving whether él meaning change is prod uccd or 110t. Which meaning change ma y be irrelevam, beca use of the arbitrary, lInmotivated linkage in language betwcen sound ancl meaning. 7 Thus, at the phonologicallevcl , Ihere i.s no reg ula rity i n the shi ft o f mea lllng prodllced by a given substitlltion: palh is not to ball! in any relation such that pushed and hushed are in the same relation. But at the mo rphological level ­ the level of minimal meaning units - sorne such altcrnations show significant reglllarities: eg ride:rode; slride: slrode. T his ta kes us tll tO an area in which Saussure was prepared to speak of the Iinglúst ic sign's relative mOlivalioll .8 How d oes this com pare witb what Thomson is doing? He is proposing t he substitll tion in thought of one actor for another, in arder to observe not merely ila d ifference in meani ng res ults but which difference results. And he is doing so in a con text in which we na tural ly feel that motivatio n of the sigo is important: our sense o f whether X is 'right for the part '9 depends upon canons of suitability governing the signifier(actor) - signified(role) link whi ch we generally assume to be non-arbitrary. One useful effeet of thinking about commutation wi th lhe phonological analogy in rnind is that it encourages us to query these assumptions aboLlt suitability, which t urn out to be suffused witb ideology and to shift with history. Bu l there is no reason to believe that somehow with an al ysis all motivation should be shown to be illusory (reduc­ tion of cinema lo Ianguage): ideology is not illusio n.

ID lt might seem thal testing for whethcr su bstituting one actor for aJ10ther makes an)' differenec to a film's meaning wou ld be poin tless: 'Of co urse il mus!!' Bu t t his is not so. The sluntman, for instance, or the n ude-scene stalld­ in both su p ply p resences to the screen which have to seem indistin guisha ble I'rom lh ose ot'the actor or aClress who is beingslood in fo r: here m uch lrQublc is ulken lo cn~ ure thal Ihe a¡;lual substi tUliOI1 01' on e body fo r an other makes no ói lTen:néc lo lhe te.xt. Extras may gencrally he l,:omrnll Led wit h li lUI! ir a ny dHlnge ofmci.tning rcslI lling. 11\ inlcrcsting Lo ñlld Ih ;11 Hq ll ily 's ag rce ll lCnl WiUl T hulllc::; T devision cx pl k llly Jdincs an C!\1Iillli', iI !lt'II'Il I'I IlCr wh u is n ol

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rl'quin:d lo g i vl.' illd lví\ lt l;l l dH I I:cc,; I c,; ri sal ¡ l)ll ~ " o thal is, a p.:rrorl11er wl1l) nc!.:d nOI , irH.lc!.:d shollld 1\ 0 1. d/.I·Iil/gll/sll hiIllscI f ür herscl r. II is not s urp rising Ih a Lo m: lIn-di stingulshcd ligur!.: can be indistinguishably replaced by another. What constrain ls ther!.: are on meaning-preserving replacements seem lo operate on Ihe level 01' the erowd (or a mo re abstract unit such as the set of passers-by through lhe whole fil m): \Ve would noLice ir elwyone on the streets happened to be female , or to be bald , a nd so t'o rth . T here is an intermedia te range 01' quite minor characters where the situa ti on is bl urred , but since the more fihns one has seen the more subtle indi viduations one picks up in t he minor roles, it Illight be sarest to treat them as fu nctioning d istinctively for the ' ideal viewer' . But occasional1y ind istinguishabi lity is sough t deli berately for Ihe sa ke of the narrative. In Hi tch.cock's S lrallgers 011 a Train the pro­ miscuily a nd vulgar fun lovingness ofGuy' s wife Miriam is in part esta blished by having her taken to l he am usement park by /' 11'0 bland young men - who remain indistinguishable from one an other over repea ted viewings.

IV Commutatio n is a deviee whi ch is designed to allow us consciollsly to g rasp units which were previously invisible. submerged in the smootb operation of the sign system in question . T his is why it can work introspectively: one ask.l' ollesel(' if a change in the signifier would make a difference. and tbe an swer can surprise one. T o reject sucb devices as unnecessary is to c1aim that one possesses al read y both a competence in the language in question an d a working theory of that competence. Where ph onology is concerned, the latter c1aim is unlikely to he justified, beca use we devote so Jittle attention ordinarily to observing minutely the sOllnds 01' Ollr speech. But if all that the commutation of actors reveals is that Cary Grant is llOt Gary Cooper, it certain ly isn't worth the trouble: o w' existing grasp of that gross difference is adeqllale enougb aJready. If commlltation is to justify itself in screen acting analysis, it mllst reveal something more delicate and Iess obvious. Why shouldn 't we think of a screen performance as composed of 'finer ' elements, fea/tires in the linguistic sense? ' Each ofthe segments in a word can be described as being the s um of a nllm ber of components 01' fea tures. Thus the consonant In al the bcginning of the word man can be said to have the fca ture of bein g voiced , the fcature ofbeing made at the bil abial place of articulation. the feature of being a nasal , and so on .'1 1 The obviow; an swer is that Jolm Wa yne is more complex than a phoneme: w h ere
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But ir wc move from phonológical features to semantic fcatures, the sugges­ ti o n may not seem so wild . W hile no one could daim th a.t we a re even near to a gen erally acceptable account of natural language semantics, it can at least be said that: 'most current semantic theories. and many traditional ones too, a na lyze meaning into "smaller" componcn t meanings, an d assign to él lexica l item a semantic rcpresentation consisting of a cümplex of semanticiaJ q uestion 14 b ut it seems undeniable that componen tial analysis captures ma ny necessary generaliza tions
v Let us see how far tlle notion of a film performance as a bundle 01' distinctj yc features can take USo Each feature 1'unctions as a potential distinguisher bOlh within the fi lm itself and in the indefi ni tely-extending space established by viewers' famili ari ty with cinema in general. For insta nce Jobn Wa yne's features contrast not onl y with James Stewart 's in the films they both ap pear in but with Jean- Paul Be lmondo ·s. even ir th e two actors have never in 1'act been textually juxtaposed . Texts leave some features and fcat ure-contrasts wholly unthema tized and others only implicitly thema tized ín oIder to coneentrate explicitly on comparativcly few. Unth ematized features could be altered or redistributed withoLlt any change in the meaning 01' the film resulting. Mem ­ bers of a chaingang or a chorus-line are distinguished from one another, like the rest 01' us, by tb e colour of their eyes: but switching eye-colours arouml would generally m a ke no difference to the text. Perhaps most feature­ contrasts are o nly lightly or implicitl y rhem atized: switching features turns out when one tbi n.ks abollt it to make sorne diffcrence - pel'haps a great deaJ: a wo man in the chaingang? - but [he fil m o pera tes in such a way as no t to encourage one to think about this . Here tbe comm utation test has a usefu l de-naturali zing function . The canons of verisimili tude, plausibi lity. referen­ tiality and so on that are operating suddenl y become vi sible: 01' ('ourse thcre aren't co-ed chain gangs, the athletic hero can 't be a d warf. th e Western her can 't have a Liverpool accent. in every fil m ccrtain contrasl~ beeome highly thematized, presenting themselvcs as 'what the fi lm is a bout'. Two or more ch aracte rs are set up as riva ls. as altern a tive love- Ol' ha te-objecls (for otller characters or lhe a udicnce or bot h), a'i debate n;, as couples, de. TI/{' (/(J or!. Ihe Bad (/ml lhe U~ / I' : Waync
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Mogam!Jo; the c()lIsin ~ il1 U 'S ('(iIIsiIlS: hcre al1u cverywhcrc in lhe einema lhe audience is cxpticilly called uro n 1.0 compa re and conlrast. So far \Ve have been talking abollt fca lures as lhey perlain to actors as ' noun s', b ut there is no reason in principie no t to ex tend the programme to the anal ysis of chal'acters' actions (to lhe enacLed eq uivalen ts 01' ' ver b' or 'adjective' predica tes) and to the manner in which the actions are pelIormed ' adverbi al' fea tul'es). For critical ami pedagogicaJ p urposcs it is so meti mes helpful to restl'ict o neself to , or a ! least to set out 1'rom. conl rasts explicitJy thematized in a particular fil m; this guarantees the pertinence of the featurcs soruti nized and keeps the set ofpossibilities to be comm uted fin ite. Si nce, for exam ple, we have no satisfactory fin ite list of types of smile (althougb we can assign smiles to categories 1'airly precisely - thin-lipped, crazy, tim id, ele) , running through smile-lypes at l'andom can seem pointless. But the contrast between th e smiles of A va G al'dn er and Grace K elly in Mo!twnho is parL of the system of tha t film . lmagini ng switching the smiles a round , so that the yo ung, inexperienced blonde ha s the sensual , shrewd, good-humoured smile while tbe older, experienced b runettc has the represscd , seldom-used smile, tcaches us a good deal about the system 01' assu m ptio ns about typ es of women wh ich Ford is wo(king wi th in here. ' s Yet it would be wrong aJ ways lO limit eommutation lo contl'asts embodied in the text. Commu Llng smilcs in Mogambo with smile-types wholly foreign to the film (a crazy smjle or a cruel smile. say) m ight, ol' might \1 ot be un profitable depending o n the investiga­ tion in h<:t nd. Such a co mmutation mi ght be pertinent to an examination o f t he bounds 01' decorum within whieh women in a fil m like Mogambo m uS t kcep if the overall good-humour of the action is to be sustained and the audience remain unthreatened . When the feature in question is part of a clearly limited paradigmatic sct, \Ve need \Vorry even less a bout applying commutation independently of the film's O\vn thematized contrasts. Perhaps the most obvious exa mple ()f such a set is the malc-female opposition: com­ mutation here almost always has dramatic ef1'ects which get us to the heart of 'ordinary sexism ' very quick ly.

VJ Does one test by commllting whole actors or just features? This will dependo Commuting actor:; may be wasteful and lcad to blurry intuitions: if it is
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exercise lO transpose the Icad characters in Mr. (j()odhtll' alld' I'J'IIIl'aul 's The Man W/w Loved Women, which is primarily él lighl collledy. Bolh die sudden and violent deaths at the end; which ofthe two wo ukl yOll then say is being pu nished for sinn ing,?, 16 Clearly Marjorie Bi lbow is not actual ly p roposing that we check the differ­ ences between Diane K eaLon ano C harles Denner (or between the roles they play) feature by feature as we transpose them. The relevan t feature - genoer is already obvio LIS. Th e use o f speaking of the wholc roles here is that it poiots up t hat not only sexual behavio ur but ultim ate fa te stays consta nt under transposition: what varies as gender va ries is lhe moral evalua ti on of t ha t fa te, T h us the l/IU':cpecled ' unit' that the commutation isolates 1ies on the plane of the fil rn's etbical sigoifieds. In general, whole-actor com mutation is useful when it is not yet clear which fealure(s) will turn o ut to be per tinen tly differential , or how one fe~lture aligns itself wi tn others to effec t a single thematized contrast. One feature of D ian e Kcaton as Teresa in Mr. Goodhar is her hair colollr; but how this operates as a signifier in tbe film comes into focu:> less when we comm ute just hair col ours - can she be a red-head? - tha n whcn we commute KcatoTl with Tuesday Weld as the blonde older sister, whose dyed-bl ondeness goes wi th oJlly-apparem innocence in her father's eyes but with real dumbness. contrasting with Te resa's educatedness, sincerity, guilt in her father's eyes.

VII T hc sort of 'units' that commuting actors isola tes - features or traits - are them selves clearly not unanal yzable primitives: a templing but Ycry ambi­ tious progra mme would be to aim at a decomposition of physiognomies, smiles, gaits, ami similar behaviours into distinctive features specified in physiological terms in the same way that phonological feat ures are specified in terms ofthe mechanisms ofthe mouth, throat and tongue. Someone with a penchant for rigour might claim that characterizations such as 'nervous smile' or 'crazy smile' are hopelessly imprecise and impressionistic Clight­ lipped smile' being closer lo a satisfactory description). H owever, there are good reasons for not taking the rigourist too seriously, though students ofthe cinema probably should pay more attention to recent advances in the stud y of non-verbal communication than we usually dO. 17 One trouble with the rigourist's programme is that for many inquiries it would be diversionary: the level of codedness one is interesled in is more 'macro' . more eapable 01' being rela ted to cconomic, political and ideological structures. But there is a lso ti problem in principIe about the search fo r primitive c1ements o f behavi our: we have no gllarantee tha l cOllceplS sllch as 'sua ve, sophist il,,'Uted manllen;. 'crazy smi le' , ' u izzi ness· (as in 'diay blonde' ) h'TOUP logcthcr hchaviour:, wh ich are ph ysi ologically llll ilary. Tha t is, lhefe ¡H \! a 1Tl\llSI ccrla inly
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of' 111 11 Sl'l 11 a rl y dlslllh'l '111 Ii k '; V.. llldl 111 /111 ,\ cultu re WI.: wou lJ g rOllp logcl hcl' as \ ;nll:y', ;!ml lhis wU\lld bCCVCII IIl (Hl'lrllc of whal 'sophisLica li o n' or' rllgged ­ Iless' col1ecl: yél il is al lh\.! leve! 01' these cultural grollpings that we need lo opera le. Too 'micro' is can deslroy lhe object wc are concerned with . ommutation does respond lo one element in the rigourist's reproach , in that its effect is to keep befo re ollr attention how problema tic the lerms we use to cha racterize differences ,illlOng per[ormances are. lllere seem to be dilTerences without terms to capture t hem , l~ and te.rms whi ch b undle loget her an indefinite range 01' differences, ( But in th is respect o ur discourse about perfo rmance is li ke ou r discourse about eveTything else: it is how natural language operates.) T hi s a\lows for considerable mobility over time in lhe conceptllaliz ing of performances and their details: to recapture Lhe terms that wou ld have been used to characterize features 01' a si lcnt fil m performance, fo r instance, often requires a considerable efTort of historical imagi nation.

VI Il An alyzing an advertisement for C hanel No. 5 perfume cOllsisting 01' a close­ up of Catherine D eneuve, a picture of a bottle or the perfume, the brand ­ name in large letters at the bottom of the page ano 'Catherine Deneu ve for Chane!' in small letters just aboye this, Judith Williamson sees Chanel as using 'what Catheri.ne Deneuve's face mean.\' lo liS' already to establish 'what Ch anel N o. 5 is lrying l o mean to USo too' : ' It is on ly because Catherine Deneuve has an " image", a significance in one sign system, that she can be used to crea te a new system of significance rclating to perfumes. Ir she were nol a film star and famous for her chic type of French beauty, if she did not mean something to US , the link made betwcen her face and the perfume would be meaningless. So it is not her face as such, but it::; position in a system of signs where it signifies flawless French beauty, which makes it usefuJ as a piece of linguistic currency to seU C hane!. -19 Meaning in a sign system depends on di fference; WiJJiamson chooses as a differing woman-sign a model who appears in the ad campaign for Fabergé's Bobe perfume: 'Catherine Dcneuve has significancc only in that she is not, for exam ple, M argaux I-1 emingway.... The significance of [lhe la tter's] noveJty. youth i"Jl ili \'i ll l~'I.· li t ;dl ill Illl: I'a cll h"l Marg
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kal'ah: olllfil ano ha s her hail' lied back Lo look alrll ()~L Iik e a rn an 's, were il nol lha 1 olha p~l'flllnC ads show wOlllen wearing prelly dresscs and \Vith elaborately sLylcd ha ir.'2D Lhink W illia mson's discussion may ovcrstate the ulti male red udb ility Lo difference 01' th is wh ole rea lm 01' signi flca tion , but this is nol to say Lha l d if­ ference is not immensel y importan t. I wa nt to use De nellve as an example 01' Lhe operation of ·the fo rmal rc lations 01' pre-existing systeros 01' di ffe rences', beca use these systems are not on ly whaL 'advertisemen Ui appropria te'21 but are in the cinema impo rtan t detc rlll lnants 01' casling , Wi lliamson's argument is that we have a mucb more secu re gr asp 01' Lh e di ITcrence bctween Deneuvc and Ilem ingway than we ha ve, or co uld ever ha ve ('perfumes can bave no particular significance')22 - with respect to the product; so that tran sfe rring the former dif ference lo the latter realm has a persuasive, beca use cognitive, effect. 13 The qucstion is , in what sen se do those firm Deneuve-Hemingway differences exist befo re one m akes th m specific comparison? It arises for me wiLh special force in th is panicular case beca llse it was possible for me fully to folJ ow Williamson 's discussion although I knew nothillg whatsoever 01' M arga ux H emingway before reading it. In effecL Wi lliamson has performed a Deneuve-Hemingway comrnutati on , a nd my prior ignorance 01' one elernen l in the commlltation has not prevented it from 'working'. How can this be'? Actually, the significance5 which Williamsoll ascribcs to Dene uve - ~/amou.\' for her chic type of French beauty , , ..fiC/lV/ess' a re not in an uncomplicated ly differential relationship to those of the Hemingway 'image', Logically enough, but al so as if to compensa te for Deneuve 's +(ame, Hemingway has +IlOVe!ly whercas Deneuve has -novelty (the link between her and Chanel has been mai n tained for an unusually long Lime). But one wouJd hardly assign -chic to Hemingway (although the lype of chic shifts): her - French trait is not unequivocaJ (' M a rgaux ' vs 'M argo',24 and perhaps él whiff of ·Arnerican-in-Paris'-ness left over from another Hemingway); and while someone engaged in karaLe seems unlikely to main ­ tain ' fl awless beauty ', one c1early could noL speak of a 'f1awed beauty '. T he underlying contrast seems to involve something Iike ±mobi/ily: llemingway can retain her sort of beauty in motion, whereas one cannot imagine the Chanel Denueve being able to mave much withouL her beauty becoming tlawed, What seems to happen is tbaL such individua l image::; as Deneuve 's or I lcmingway 's find or make their pl ace(s) within a neLwork of differences already provided for hy the /anguage; it is within language that th e contrasL ' k min ine'I'Tomboy' is kepL ' in place ', an d this is a necessa ry co nd itio n for IhaL cQnLrast's embodim ent both in the rea l a nJ in image-d cploymc nt "",ithin specialized discourses Iike ad vertising, ALth is level , Ihe same cO nLrasl l Ji.'mill ilw co uld be embod icd by el n indcfinile Il UIllOer of dilTerenl fig ures . Du t conve rsely cach individu al lig ure is a composilc \lf
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dCLcnninaliolls, and whik ol1ly a subsd 01' Ihc~c \ViII be highlighLcd by any givcn collllllulalion, il will slill puL into play contrasts in vo lving more lban a single rcalure. Th is mcans thaL a contrast on ±mobi/ily will always involve morc Lhanjllsl Lhat once the specifi c realure-bundle ' Margaux Hemjngway ' is eh osen Lo embody one pole, even when the other pole is left general ('oLher perfu mc ads show women wearing pretty dresses a nd with e1 aborately styled hair'); and it will become even richer once the specific fea t ure-bllndle 'Cat herine Denueve' is instal led aL lhe other po le, This detailed richness is whaL eould not have existed befo re 1 knew abollt Margaux Hemingway, a nd each new bit of data I acquire abo ut the image enriches tbe cont rast further. But th e ;oncepts to illustrate which Wi lliamson posed the contrast 01' the two images are not dependent upon thjs richness: many models and actresses could have been chosen who would have embodied an y one feature contrasL j ust as wel!. The main difference between choosing a m odel for an adve rl isement and casting for a film is that the requirements 01' narrative structure in film , however constraining on their own level. put tbe features of the acto r into play more acti vely than advertisements do . 11' Lhere is a single im age 01' D ene uve al work in the Chanel ads ami in her films , iL is presented and devcloped more un predicta bl y where narrative brings out its potenlial ambiguities. W hen Burt Reyn old s asked Robert Aldrich to di rect h im in lIusl/e, Aldric h said: • ''T' II do this picture on one condilion : that you help me gel Miss C hane!. '" Because the woman 's part hao been written ror an Amer­ ican , and 1 didn' t think it worked thaL way, I thin k ou r middle-c1ass mores just don't make it credible that a policeman ean have a love relaLionshi p with a prostitute, Because of sorne strange quirk in OLlr backgrounds, the mass audience doesn't believe it. It 's perfectly all right as long as she 's not American, So BurL accepLed this as a con­ dition. and we put up our money and \vent to Paris, and waited on the great lady for a week , and she agreed Lo do the picture. ' 25

J Jere the role in the scripl induded the feature +Arn.erican , a nd the director modified this to -American on credibility grounds. Whether 01' not Aldrich 's unacceptabili ly intuition about the c1usLer +Al71erimn +proslitute +/oved by fJo/iceman was idiosyncratic 2Ú (Lhe casting 01' Deneuve seems to me to he splendid , but I wouldn ' t ha ve thought credibility was its strong point), it certainly underdetermines the choice of Deneuve from Lhe very large set of un-American actresscs , The associative Icap to 'Miss C hane\' shows thaL more of the ' Deneuve' fcalme-b undle was involved, and lhe Lone of the remark a bo uL 'waiting on Lhe greaL lady >27 m ight suggest that part 01' thi s mi ght be a cCrLa in wish to Ilaw lhe ' unfiawcd ' , lo cxploit the possibil ities of Lhe Miss­ (,h;lncl . a~ · rn)lil i l\lle Iwis!. Out there m usl he somcth ing a bout lhe bundle wh il.:h 1, llil il:' lcS I!l b lw isl an yW
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il11agc ill tcrms n I" 111111 wlcs w() ulJ lla ve lo (a h' HlIJ lUd s /JI' llt' rll/ .fUI/,. as a ceotral text o Whilc il ami I/ustll' dra w on Ihe JCaturcs that make Dcnc lIvc a n appropriate signific r for Ch ancl, both films in Ji fferent ways put Ihcsc featu res at the service ofnarratives which draw out lhei.r u arkc r impli<.:ations - in Belle du Jou,. the -mohility feature is used to conn ote both frigidity an d corpselikc ness, in HusLle the 'fta wJessness' is madc to begi n to crack aro und lbe edges . A C atherine Deneuve ad a nd a C atherine D encu ve film dcarly bolh opcr­ ate as c10sed lex ts lO a greate r or lesser degree (both B e/fe c/u Jour and J/usLle being more open Ihan metny, as it happens. whereas a m o re conventio nal f¡lm such as T erence Yo ung's Mayerling might even exceed Chanel ads in c1osure): but the mecha nisms by which they ac hieve thei r dos ure a re d ifferent; and a re themsclves made visible by the commutation we achieve by hol ding Denc uve constant while changing the textual practices wh ich ser ve as lhe con tcxt o f her presentation . The ever-open possibility of doing th is leaves Ihe C ha nel advertisemenls open to a ~rtain subversi on . So does the way that the Deneu ve image is built up fro m appearances of which some are so nar ra tivel y charged: Chanel cannot prevent us from think.ing o f the parts Deneuve has played for Bunuel and Ald rich, with lheir unwanted , unsettling features.

rx There is room for a great deal of detailed research on the h.istory of casti ng. Th e breathless ru n-through 01" casts once con templated for well-kno wn fil ms given in a recent a rticle by L inda R osencran tz 28 illustrates the sort ofmateria l which could be of grea t use in determining which star images were co n­ templatable for which roles at a given time. It would be good to have accounts of actual casting practice detailed enough to serve as a co ntrol 00 the intuitions commutation affords us about possible ami impossiblc matchings 01' actor to role. Clearly, casting is subject to powerful ideological constraints. ¡\ given role must be fi Hed by someone who possesses or can assume the fea tures fel! necessary to sustai n it, and both the detcrmination orthe features in the sClipt a nd the organisation of their textualisa lÍon in the COurse of fil m ing will bc governed by ideological assumptions about w ha t is 'n a t ural' and 'goes with­ out saying' . In Don Siegel's The Shoolist, John Wayne plays a n aging gun-figh ter d ying of cancer and James Stewart plays the doctor who diagnoses the disease. I have never met anyone who could imagine the casting reversed, yet it's hard to see why. Most people. after some thought, sa y that they can imagine Stewart in the Wayne role (it helps to think back to Stewart's unm an nered performances in An thony Ma nn westerns). W hat seems 'u ngram matical' is W ayne as a d octo r. Bul what is it lha t we think we know aboul doclors lhal m akes Wayne's b un dle 01' trails incom patible with his being one? ¡\n adj l:Cl. ive which sometillles gets used lO describe Wayne is 'ruggcd ' : Ihiii is no! \\.1

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:ll udy) ddicauy (JI" m l)Vcm ~ n l lhal a doctor, I.'~pel:iall y a ~lIrgC(lI1, i~ fcll tu nced. Of course Ihe I"rol1licr doctor in westerns i::m 't exactl y a Dr. Ki ldarc, but his lad of polish is general1 y presentcd as a decline. howeve r good-natured, from an carlier levc1 01' competence reached ' back f as t' . T he frontier doctor can Ihus de viate in th e d ireetion o fa certain ruggedness (orten o n account o f Dri nk), b ul he generally retai ns such unru.gged reatures as -Iall and a l.hlefic. A counter-exa mple in terIns of these specific features, Victor Mature's D oc IloHiday in Ford's My Da,./iflK Clemell/ine. is tal! a nd
x T \Vant to condude briefly by returning to Brech t's 'fundamental reproach', which was that beca use in the cin ema the role amI the performer (Jre one, there is no possibility of introducing the sort of gap between them that promotes reftection . There is él problem here, but it does not seem to be insuperable if we are prepa red to take as our unit of expe rience of the cinema. not just the text itself as subject to/contributo r to a larger system of possi bil ities and impossibilities which is like, and to a large extenl dc pends upon , our language. T his involves recognising lhat like language the sign systems of lhe ci nema are never lex ual1y embodied all al once: to restrict an al ysis lo the 'tex l itself' , to rule out counterfactual statements on methodological grounds, \Vould he a surrender to dogma tic empiricism. A limitcd gap is opened between actor ano role, I think , by the star system itself, wilh its cncouragement to the viewer to see a single figure on the screen as both role and star. Wh al is needed to exploit that gap a nd open it wider is an awareness, which teaehing ca n promote, of the depen dence of both role­ meaning and star-meaning upon a nelwork of d ifferences correlated with one a nothe r in seemin gl y nal uralised, hcnce suspecl. ways. My practical c1 aim for lhc comm ula tio n test is that it pro m otes in t he viewer lhe right sort 01' s\l~ pi c i( 11 1.

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Notes Ben Brewsler 'Tlle I'undarnental reproach (Brccht)' Cine-trael'\" n 2 Summer 1977 pp44 53 2 David Thomson 'The look on an actor's Face' Sig/lI al/(I cS'ound v 46 n 4 J\uturnn 1977 pp240 - 44 3 Roland Ba rthes Elem ent.\' ofSemiology London 1967 p65 4 This is the Ox ford English Dict ionary's third sense for the word. Thc tirst usagc it records in this sense is, as so often whcn concepls which will turn o ut to be useful to a science of signs are concerncd , theologicaI. Hooker in 1597 wrote of 'a kind 01' mutuall cornmutation ... wherby Ihose concrete names G od, and Ma n, when we spcake 01' Christ doe take interchangeably one anotllers roome'. T he legal sensc arises na turally enough: com mu tation is
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wi th whil:h we cal l1':lo;llv ..p\:,lk ,1/111111 lile dill (J n: ll cc~ . O IlL' cu uld l'llIl'loy Icehnic:1l (¡,;rmilH,IClgy hosed "" Ih \! vm Vl' I ¡';JI~ th ~ 111 dilTc rc nl color:>, huI Ihis d(les not repn.:­ ~c nllhc manller i" which we nOlllla lly cOII(;eive ol'color J il'ICrcnccs.' 11 woul d ta ke LIS too far a(icld lo go iulo Ihe matler hcre, but it should be mentioned thal bot h Wittgenstein amI Laca n dcny that therc could bc a true melalanguage rol' describ­ ing human action. 19 De('()ding A (lFer/isemellf s: Id('ology lInd !'v/elllling in Adl'errising Lllndoll 1978 p25 20 Ibid p26 21 1bidp27 22 Ibid p25. Smells may be rneaningless but lhey are certainly evocative. For a very interestin g discussion ofwhy evoeativeness may be raised by the raCI that 'there is no sernan tic fleld 01' smells' , see Dan Sperb.::r Re /hink ing Symholism Camb ridge 1975 ppl 15 -- 19 23 '.,. this scerns like the re verse of " totemism", where rhings are used to differen­ tiate groups of people .. .', Williamson p27 24 Ar¡ interesting problem: is there anything ' Fre nch' about Ihe image of Catherine Deneu ve ir her name is taken awa y? (Wha t happens if the C h,tne! ad rema ins just as it is sa ve fol' the substitution 01'. say, 'Shirley SauIlders fo r Chane!''!) 25 Stuart By ron (interviewing Ro bert Aldrich) ~ '1 can't gel Jimmy Ca rter to see my movie"" Film Commen/ n IJ March-April 1977 p52 26 ln T¡' e C/¡oirboy s the cluster reappears, but its 'unacceptability' is now inscribed within the text ítself in the fonn of the violel1ce 01' a 'bad' sado-masochistie relationship leading to the policem,tn's shame and suicide. 27 The phra se helps clarify a second Deneu ve C hanel ad reproduced by Williamson op eit p28 , in which a head-and-shoulders photograph 01' Deneuve with Chane[ bottles bears the text '!t's one of the pleasures of being a woman '. The image might be puzzling beeause Deneuve is unsmiling, stern-Iooking, not obviously enjoying any 'p[easure' - save, perhaps, that of being 'the great lady', 28 'The role that got away' Film Commel1/ n 14 Jan-Feb 1978 pp42- 48

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One ofthe most fam ous ofmodero poeuy readings took place at the Six G allery in San Francisco o n October 13, 1955. 1 To help launch lhe new gall ery, an artists' co-op newl y converted from a commercial garage, the poet M ichael McClure, a friend of the organizers, arranged fo r six poel'> to read, and one o f them , Kenneth R exroth, then o pted to act as master of ceremonies. The other five, Philip Lamantia, Phil ip Whalen , Michael McCl ure, Gary Snyder, and Allen Ginsberg, already formed a distinct group soon to be widely known as the Beat poets. About a bundred people t urned up, and as the readings began, another wri ter. Jack Kerouac, who had been invited to read but was apparently too shy to do so, collected mo ney forjugs of wine and then passed them around, becoming drunk and excitable himself and encouraging the audience to throw themselves noisily into the spi rit of things. By the time Allen Ginsberg begall reading his new, unpublished poem NO!v!, the audience were already vcry receptive. Ginsberg describes what ha ppened then: "1 gave él very wild, fu nny. tearflll reading of the first part of ' Howl.' Like 1 really felt shame and power read ing it, and every Üme l'd fi.njsb a long line Kerouac would shout 'Y ea h!' or 'So there! ' or 'Coneet!' or som e IittJe phrase, whieh added él kind of ex tra bop h umor to the whole th ing. lt was like aj am session, and 1 \oVas very astoundcd because 'Howl' was a big, long poem and yet everybody scemed to understand and at the same time to sympathize wi th it. "2 Ginsberg's biographer, Michael Schumacher, pictures him beginn ing timidly, but " before long he gained confidence and began to sway rhyth­ micaJl y \Vith the music of his póetry, responding lo the enthusiasm 01' the alldience. '" Another biography describes him " chanting likc a Jewish ca ntor, sllstain ing his long breal h length. savoring the o utragcous Ja.nguage. "4 A fter­ wards Lawrence Ferli nghctt i otTered Lo publish the pocm, émd lhe success 01' (he evenl !iparked off él WaVc 01' poetry readings aeross Ih\! hay arca.

'fhc rnnsl ntHa bil' rl.:al llrc o!" lile elllirc readillg was 1I n<.It) uhl l!uly i\ lIcll Ginsbcrg's shccr prCSClIl.'C as he pl'rrorrncu I!is ICslin1l1ny, bcgi nn ing wi ll! lhe empl1atic fi rst-pcrsnn assertion: "1 saw the best minds 01' my gener
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PO ET RY' S OR AL STAGE Pete,. Middleton So urce : Sa lím Kcmal a nd Jvan C; ,Lskell (cds), l'eI:(un nallCC alld A ulhel1licily in Ihe Arl , Ca mbrid ge: C ambridge U niversit y Pless, 1999, pp. 21 5- 253 .

The oral poetics of written poetry

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aloud effectivcly. lJntil quite reccntly this widespread, ano largcly lInn:lllarked reading of poetry aloud by a ll sorts ol' people was a commo n praclice in English-speaking cultures. Tod ay. s uch occasions as M aya Angelou's reading at President Clinton's in a uguration are reminders 01' how un usual lhis now see ms. Tbe oral reading of poetry is no longer a comm on feat ure 01' everyday Ij fe and in its stead is the la rgely postwar phenomenon ol' the more form al poetry readi ng. Farno us poets. li ke othcr well-k nown writcrs, have gone on speak ing to urs in the past (Dil:kcns and W hitman are familiar examples), but these have been relativel y exccptional , a nd even the major English-I a nguage poets 01' the ca rIy part 01' the twentieth cclltury did no t spen d their time on reading tours. The contemporary poetry read ing, tlm1.l y Slructured a round the presence ofthe author, is a new variant o n Ihe o ld pract ice, m ade possible by social changes slleh as greater social wealth, leis Llrc, mobility, and cducation, and more necessary in the face ofthe teehnological a nonymity ofmass c ulture. The lfowl reading also demonstrates another feature 01' these readings, their radicalism. Poetry readi ngs since the lattcr part 01' the 1950s ha ve been popular with dissident intelleetuals wh o believe t hese events can make visi ble the power 01' hitherto alienaled individ ual im agin ati ons, passions, visions, and creativity. Yet such political ai ms on their own wOLlld hardly have gen­ erated the fervor of such readings as those at the A lbert I la)) in London in the late l 960~ and in similar large, popular venues in A merica , which became iconic of th e new poetries. or the continLling interest in hea ring evcn the most textually elaborate poetries. Something else was going on at these readings besides the generation of collective cuphoria at the possibility 01' mass action, or the practice 01' a new cultural poli tics, something that depended on the poetry itself, and what happened when written poems were transformed by being read alouu in public performances. or the many kinds ofcontemporary poetry reading, the avant-garde 7 readings 01' t he past forty years are the most striking. because these poets have used all sorts 01' unfarniliar strategies to resist easy assimilatÍon and to articulate new ranges 01' thought and expericnee. devices such as innovative page-Iayouts, di mini shed reference, and ncwly invented ver~e form s (many 01' which are very long, non-I yric structures), all of which would secm to make impossible demands upon per­ formers and Iistcners. It i$ to tbese poetries that trus cssay is largely devoted (although many of its conclusions apply to otber more traditionaJ , poli tic­ a))y activist, or entertainment-based poetriess) beca use in these readings the intransigent presence 01' the written text is most pro min cnt a nd in nced 01' explanation. Exceptional in degree rather than substance, lhe Si x Ga llery read ing in t he newly converted garage sh ares man y fea tures with lypical , less epoehal poetry readi ngs. It is a good place lO begin considcring lhe c()mmon elemenls llr poetry readi ngs a nd lheir sign itka nce. 11011'1 was r remi(!red a l I he read ing. How, ir a t al1, w..s it lransrormcd by Lhe reuding 1)1' (,iosberg's'! Thl! besL \Vuy I can answcr Ih is question .11 IlI is poinl is l(l say Ihal the :,clll unlÍl; repc l·tn ire

ol' the wrilteu texl Wa s cX ll'nJcd by ils pcrrOl'l11anCI; in scw ral Iw lab k ways : by the locatioll oflhe pocm in a particular place wilhin a ddined ritual, hy lllc force of the poet's presence as he rcad, by the addition 01' so und lo the .. et of reception , and by lhe enfolding in tersubjective drama generated as the Iines \Vere spoken . The author read aloud work conceived and written elsewhere, giving speci al salience lO Ihe sound 01' the language. in surroundings tem ­ po rari ly bo rrowed as a performance space 1'01' poelry, to an audience who experienced sorne common purposes pa rtially articu lated t hrough the poetry itself. Attempts to describe the evenl by the poet andrus biographers reveal fLlrther aspects oC it, not 1easl by the differences in thei r accou nts. G insberg, lik e ma.lly people who takc part in poetry readings, emphasizes lhe impo rt­ ance 01' hearing lhe sound values 01' the text by comparing the event to a jazz session . in which voice plays u sec-ondary or non-existent role compared to tbe no n-lingu istic comm uniea tions 01' instrumental music. His biographer Miles recogn iles that the event extends beyond the poem and implies a para))el with sacrcd ritual in which poetry is a means ofma kingG od presen t. 130th interpretations step away from the literary texl as if tha t aJone we re not sufficient ro sustai n an explanation 01' what ha ppened. The contradictions between these and other accounts (Ginsberg gives sl ightly different ones in different interviews reminding us that performance depends crucia))y on memory, whatever the technical means 01' recording), typify the problem 01' recreating and anal yzing any performance. howeve r much documenta tion is available. Analysis is aJways archeology . Performance events vanish as they occur, Iike the "bcst minds of my generatio n" who "vanishcd into nowhere Zen New Jersey," leaving behind such traces as polysemic texts, photographs. memoirs, and interviews, which are as slippery to interpret as the trail 01' mystifyi ng postcards of Atlantic City Tia)) left behind by one of the beat heroes 01" t he poem .? Any answer to the question 01' what happened to How! when it moved from writing into speech must factor in its own reconstructive uncertai nties , ambiguities already figured by the poem itsc1f, as ifit knew that co))ecti ve memory wOLlld try to transplant the "a bsolute heart orthe poem" from perform ance into text as it died into silence at the end ofthe reading. as all performances must. IO Literary theory, on the other hand, wOLlld say that its real lite was only jLlst beginning. Not until the City Lights edition appeared could the poem fully dairn to be a text ready ror reading and analysis. Theorists apparently see Iiule of significance in the oral performances 01' poetry reading, becallse they aSSllme that meaning arises solely at the interface between the subject a nd the lingllistic strllcture represented by the written text, whether power is assLlmed to reside with the active, decodi ng subjecl or with the discourse 01' the text thal produces t he subjectivi ty o f the rcader. Poetry readi ngs where a wrj ttcn tcx t is read alo Lld seem no m ore Lhan cn lcrtaining ornaments to th e solid cJilicé 01' read ing. As a re.-¡ult. pOCJT) ~ like l/mI'! lead a secrel life. Walter Ol1g ht:ll\: Wl> Ihu I " inle rtex tu,¡) anal ysi¡; has comlllon ly pa id rela tivclv Iittle

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attcnlionlo the inlcraclion between texts and thcircircumamhicnt oralily . T hl~ oralily 01' a milieu can deeply affect both the composition 01' texts and thcir in terpretation."!' flis comment on the period when the Gospeb were wri tten mi ght equally apply today. The effec ts of oral interaction on litera ry lexts are ignored by literary theorists, perhaps because orality seems no more t han an an achronistic surviv al from an earli er stage of social developmenL, made even more red unda nt by tbe Internet an d hypertex t, éÚ lhough the official reason is ling uistic. Saussurean linguistics, wh ich has p rovided lhe skelelon for struclura li st and poststructuralist theo ry. do wn grades speech in favor 01' th e system of linguistic codes which supposedl y govern il, 3l1d which most thco rists regard as the proper subject of inq uiry. T he term poe fry reading contains an ambiguity whic h helps explajn thi s neglect. In writing th is essay 1 have to make clear by context when poef ry reading refers to él public performance rather than a pri vate, silent act of interp reting writing without audible sound , because th is latter is the domin­ ant meaning. M oreovcr. literary theory has widcl y used the te rm reading to mean intelpreta lion, a nd critics describe their practice as read ings of speeifi c texts. F or mos t literary erilies, poetry readiogs are sim ply pa rticular versions of reading, because they are committed to interpretative relativism. A public poetry reading is different on ly in the trivial sense th at every reading is d if­ ferent because readers and communi lies o f readers ultimately determine the mea lling of what i5 read, and their differences produce d ifferent interpreta­ tions. T hese differences may be a1l too sl1ght within communities of readers organized by ideology or ot her .largely uncon scio us structures. The problem he re is what is meant by " di fferenL " As Reed Way Dasenbrock points out, ir this is take n to mean that differen t in terpretations emerge from the incom­ mensurable wo rlds of di fferent interpreta tive eommunities, it would entail the absurd conclusion that one reader could not understand another's read­ ing at all, even lo establish incommensurability: "we cannot kno\\' whether we a re seeing something different unless we can understand each other's perspective, translate ea eh other's language; and if we can understand and translate another's porspective, it cannot have (hc radical otherness supposed" by some theorists. 12 Why does it seem so important to c1aim interpretative relativism in cOlltempora ry theory? The answer must su rely be that it is part of the important comm itment lo recognizing diversity, difference, and mar­ ginalization, exprcssed in different jnterpretations wh ich can be suppressed by hegemonic institutions which c1aim that there is only one proper mca ning, their own. Interpretative relativism is made to do too much work. however . because other practices 01' difference ha ve been elided from theoretical recog­ niza nce. Feminist linguists have po in ted out a sim ilar pro blem with tJleories lhat lang llage is male, a nd women therefore need a female language, arguing against lhis theory that it misla kes the character 01' la nguage cn tircly. and becomes a substitu te ro r consiJering o the .. so(;ial divisill n'i in which powcr prod m:c::; silence anu dislnrtion.

Tile S~Cll1 illgl ) importan t I.'I1Iphasb 0 11 dil fcrc.n l rl:adings l:OIH:ca ls an un­ warranled hOlllogcn i/,at io n 01" lile ilclerogcncous cOl1cept 01' reading. Read ings are assumcd to be I'ulldarnentally one kind of process so that an elhnographic stance, ror example, which places a text in a much wider network of systems of re prescntation or active subjectivities, appears irrelevant to interpretation and read ing. Such analysis of literary prod uctions is rarely admitted with in the charmed circle of the high art of fi rst-wo rld cultu res, whose significan t texts are imagined to transcend tbe contingencies of loca l cultura l practicesY These limitations are the result o f assuming that readin g is a bomogeneous . singular acti vi ty, whatever indetenninacies of la nguage and subjectivi ty it produces. The implicit model or reading at \York in most contemporary literary theory owes its o utlines lo the epistemological p roject of Ka ntian phil osop hy as it has been media ted thro ugh its encounters with science, positivism , a nd linguistics. A singular, autonomous subject is imagined to encounter él bounded instance of language in an ideal realm transcending ordinary material limita­ tions. Ordinary acts of reading are approx imations lo t his, Iimi ted by lhe everyday interruptions ofconcentra tion and textual presentation . Poststructu r­ alist theory empties out the humanist interiority o f the subject whicb is the stage for the encounter, only to reinscri be its contours via the p utativc actions of the signi fyLng process and lhe positionalities of discourse. Writing and silent read ing llave helped create assumptions about reading whicb would not seem so obv io us in UD oral society, and theorists forge t that reading depcnds on simil ar conditions to disco urse and, like disco urse. is always an uncompleted stage in heterogeneous transactions that exeeed the moment 01' encountcr, which is itself always taking place in a ma terial space and time . The case of the poctry reading will sho\\' why recogn iz.i ng the inescapably inters ubjective, plural co ndition of reading is necessary for an understanding of the meanings which " Contemporary" poetries are allowed to produce.

Staging is the fi rst element of poetry readings. Space, time. and poetry collude to produce a temporary dream of t:riumph for the poweT of poetry over the noise, routinc, and institutions 01' everyday lite, ea eh time a poetry reading is held . Poetry readings are usually ragged affairs, taking place in ven ues tem­ poraril y liberated from other activities , pub rooms, arts centres, church halls, lecture theatres, where poetry is only in the ascendant for a moment during which it is still in competition with many reminders of the everyday world wait ing to rush back into its temporary space ami expel it. The messy , incom­ plete, heterogeneous poetry reading is quite unlike the wcll-regulated art o pera for exa mple, where everyone sits in speci ally designcd seats in a speciall y Jesigned aud itorium. reading a program telling them tho biogra phies a l' Ihe stal s ano the sign ifican¡;e of lhe p) OI, lhe event slart s a l lhe advertiscd liIl H:' , IInd t ill" ncrt'n rmc rs a re l>cpurated physicHlly from Ihe auJicnce . Listen ing

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A specter is haunting poetry readings . The "dead author," risen fro m the text again and trailing the rags of the intentional fallacy, cla ims to be the originat­ ing subject from which poetry is issuing right in fro nt of your eyes. At most poetry readings the author, like Ginsberg, reads the poetry and firmly occupies the first persono Th is is all part ofthe dra ma ofthe poetry reading, an acknow­ ledgcd illusion in which e.veryone participates. The poet perjórms authorship, becoming in the process a divided subject by reproducing language constructed into a poem at some time prior to the reading, \vhile r eading a loud as if it were a spontaneous speech act arising in the prcsent. This is why the reader is almost invariably the author, a1though there wo uld seem to be no good rcason why accomplished rcaders and actors cou ld not take their places. Only Ihe dead are repre~cnted in this way, as if death for a poet meant that others had lO represen l yo u. W hen the wo rds " 1sa w" rang out at the Six G allery, the aud ience tho ught they knew tha t Lhe speaker was the person who w rol~ r.hese lines, and that the first persoll was lhere visibl e in fron t 01' lhem. Modem prinl cult ures allów asuprising number o f opportun ilies ror cxplici t fl; VL'rsi ~)n rn)111 Il,lX I t ~l spcech, S(llll C by au thors, S(l Ill C hy \l tber rCHdcr!\ . W h;¡ l

parallds are Iherc bctwuclI SIIl:h uccasiolls ami Ihe pOl!tl'y read ing'! Writi ng is rcad aloud in situatiolls rall~ing I'rulll church serviccs and cOlllá ence papers to bedtime stories ror children. In both the formal events and the in formal (mes the person of th e reader embodies an answer to a potential question: what does it mean lo say these tbiJlgs to you now'! W riting's iterability is put into tension with the c011tingency of the moment of production re presented by the person ofl he rea der, whose presence and delivery produces a reflexiv­ ity received as a penumbra] commentary UPQn il. T hi.s p rocess is perha ps most a ccessible in the ritual fam iliar to acadern ics, the conferenee papel', which might also seem onc o f the most redu ndant. A co mplex conference paper could su rely be read far more effective1y by the audience befo rehand in priva te, a nd the time which would have been devoted to the seemingly mecbanical, oral ael of deli vering the paper, given inslead to the all-important diseu ssion of its contents. There are signs th a t this is indeed ha ppening at some confer­ en ces. T he generally accepted criteria for measuring a good deli very of a good paper suggests, however, why oral presentations may continue. The good Iccturer addresses the audience directly rather than, as we say, simply "read­ ing" the paper (an apparen tly paradoxical statement since reading is precisely wha t t he lecturer is do ing). This address, which is contingent upon the actua l rel ation between speaker, audience, and site at a pa rticular time, can produce a continuous eommen tary on what is read aloud , through changes of tone and emphasis in the voiee. through additional verbal annotation , asides which el aborate 00 the material , and body language; u conUllentary sim ilar to the second voiec 01' the footnotc beloved of academics. Sueh a multi-I ayered comment ary on the written text can indicate hierarchies of importance, affect­ ive investments, and relations to existing norms (using tones of voice to indica te irony. ap proval. a sneer). In this \Vay ,¡¡ is not dissimilar to the poss­ ibilities of readin g a story aloud to children and bringing it to life. If the speaker is also the author, a person \vell placed >10 produce s1lch an interactive commentary anyway , thi s performance also produces an exaggeratcd, dram­ atized, picture of authorship. These words arise out of tbe speaker, whose bodily p resence and identity is their warrant, and whose delivery shows what it means to think and say these words and ideas, illdeed, shows what it means to live them for at least the moment of their delivery. The presence of a speaker is a reminder that the \Voras are temporarily invoked from an indi­ vidual with a particular point ofvicw, a particular body, a particular cxperi­ ence an d history . A paraJlel with the reading ofthe children 's story makes thi s plainer. For young chjldren, au lhorship is not a c1ear concept. und the parent 01' teacher wh o reads the story to them will become the author or originator of the narrative, perme.a ting it with Iheir own identi ty amI acting as its warrant to them . A uthorial reading suffuses a text with the person and their relatio n lO th e liste ners. ÁUllwl'ship und I¡minal commentary coa tesce in a repcrtoirc of asseverative gCS1 111l''j l, p n \l111l/1 In all pérfommm;c:; 01" wri( ing as :>pcc¡;h, all~)wi n l! él wid e

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h' flodry rcqu in;s dTort, anu lhe auuiencc's attenlivcnc:-s is vulncrablc lo dist racli ol1s o fewry kind (beer, trallic, hard chairs, cOlllings an d goings, even Ihc very presencc 01' the poe!). The space is precariously and only partia lly Iransforlllcd from its m unuane uses as gallery, pub, or lect ure hall , whose signs rClllain promincntly in evidence throughout the scene 01' textual performance, and this transformation of the backdrop tells the participan ts lhat the every­ day world, despite the way it is crowded with other activities and purposes, can still provid e a space fo r poetry. Poetry becomes sonie perfoml ance in the face ofconsiderable odds, a conquest ofthe resistant cont ingency ofeveryday lite which provides a ground bass or insistent incsca pa ble rhyth m. Meaning a rises out 01' the noise 01' the Ii reworld, both as sign amI otner materially intclligible forms 01' order
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range o fnua nccs ofintensity, direction, and quality of asscrtion to be indicated. Mos t ordinary spoken uttcranccs carry an implicit aura of assertion with thcm which dcpends on the presence of lhe speaker to the a ucUtors, beca use lh is p resence mctonymically represents the individual origi n of the utteram:e. The speaker endorses what is saiJ by say ing it , whatever t he positiv ity o r negat­ ivity ofthe utterance itself. in a process o f embodied asseveration. A signal only need s to be amplified wh en it is not strong eno ugh to resist the ci rcuma mbient noise on its o wn , and the ampli fying gestures o f assevera ti on are often a sign of resistance to wha t is being said, actual and po ten tia 1 distu rbances o f authority. lndeed asseveratio n may be connected to problems 01' a uth o rity, especia lly mora! authority. Alasdair Macln tyre stigmatizes most modern ethical theories as emotivist, and therefo re based solely on personal assertions ofvalue grounded in desires 14 and affects. beca use moral a rgllment is understood as a cornpe tition between the authentic feelings of di fferen t people or groups. My authcntic feelings are thc ultimate basis for d eciding the value of my mora l position on a pro blem. His answer to this evacuation of ethical tenns of all objective criteria is not to argue Cor sorne new system o f constrUCling morallaws in the manner o[ Kant 's ca tego rical imperative, but to argue tb at lhe Te-esta blis hmen t o f va lid moral debate would depend on the creation of commuJ1ities with the kind o f densely experienced common language foun d in highly traditional societies. In such circumstances the language is tied almost completely to " a particular community living a t a particular time and pl ace with particular shared beliefs, institutions, aocl practices. These belicfs. institutions . ami practices will he furnished expression and embodiment in a variety 01' linguistic expressio ns and idioms; the languagc will provide standard uses for a necessary range oC expressions and id ioms, the use of which wiIl presuppose commitment to those samc beliefs, institutions, and practices. ,,1 5 It is a community where a moral language would have foundations in actual common practice and under­ standing. In such communities, " by saying something a speaker or writer communicates more and other than he or she has actually said .',¡r, Assevcration is a local. momenta ry attcmpt to dra w listeners closer in to such communities, however fragile and temporary, to provide pa rtial founda­ tion s for ethical and aest hetic assertions and, at the same time, is a rem in der of their pa rtial absence, because its degree of emphasis is commonly in inverse rclation to the degree of consensus. Thc poetry read ing dramat izcs auth o r­ ship beca use the authority of the poet a nd poetry is so questionablc in a n age where the production of any kind oC public di scoursc, es pecially ones which make any kind of statement about the way the world is or how we ou gh t to act, depends for its legitimacy on institution a l validalion if it is to be any more tha n personal opin ion. which iL<¡e1f depends ror ilS sign ificance 011 lhe stalus of the persono Academic con ference-gocrs k.now aU abo uI lile Slruggk rol' le!:,rit imalio n, and huye ml.l ny ri luals bcsides lhe read ing ,)1' \.:()nll:rcnc¡; pa pers lo esta blish lIJe credenliéll'i 01' wha l il is lo OC sciL:l1 lilll'. prnpúrly

theorized , empirical1y cstablishcd, and so ro rlh. l Jnkss pncls an.: l'Olll cnl I ~ l dramatiz e on ly their own inner strugglcs acco rdi ng lo recogn izahk cri tcria M wha t counts as psycho logicall y possible. lhey will be pen:eivcd as cc¡;cnlric o ne-person resear¡;h o utfits, and will need to mect the questi on of authori ty head-on. Lacking man y 01' the other forms of legiti mation avai lable to the acadcm ics, poetry readings become anothcr means o f ncgotiating the a ulhor­ ization of the claim to a publ ic voice and the right lo state facts and make judgments. T wo examples of the ways poets do this will show how central this ca n be both to the performance ano the writing of sorne con tem porary poetry. A West CO,lst American poet, D avid Bromige, provides arare il1s lam:e 01' a fu ll phenomen ological acco unt 01' a poetry reading in his critical report of the Bri ti sh poet AlIen Fisher's 80 Langton Street (an arts centre in San F ran­ cisco) artist-in-residency in 1982. Al1en r isher's work is distinct ivc bccause 01' its GOn versance with a wide range of co ntemporary scientific di seourses. Few poets use up-to-date knowledge from the natural sci ences as part of Iheir compositional strategy, no t only beca use of its intrinsic d iffic ul ty, but beca ose of problcms of authority, their own a nd , more lroubling still, the authoril'Yof the knowledge itself which has sllch a short half-Jife in Illost cases. In his recent poetry. Fisher had been work ing in th is chal1enging urea, with resu1ts that led Bromige lo complain that F ish er attempted to presen t too mllch material in the four days of his residency , an excess symptomatic of a pro blem wi th the poetry itsel /': "the m imesis of information overl oad destroyin g any and al1 attempts at the di screte and limita ble cannot take place on the scaIe of life without rendering itself defunct as art. "17 T hese problems the audience had with Fisher's work were, Bromige slIspccted. displacements 01' a more general problem with audiences in En gland: "Fisher has to use his poetry to tcll a possible readership how it is to be read. " 18 F isher's difficulty, o ne might say, is how to perform a uthorship for his audience in a persuasive manncr, and so Bromigc takes up a role as representative naive American listener to Fisher in terms which oversta te the audience's fascination with the hitherto llnfamiliar poet. The repo rt on the actual reading begin s with the kind of attention given to film stars and roya lty in the press: "Wearing gray shirt with red buttons, electric-blue baggies, shiny white shoes with red trim a nd laces, bright red socks, wristwatch w¡ lb red strap, and browny-gray belt, and revealing himselfto be a youthful 38 , a little oyer six feet and lean , wi th dark hair and attractively limber wrists etc .. . . !-lis voice -- Denise Levertov as a light baritone - disguises the Olsonic adllress of his poetry." I'l T his ironic imitation of the Ianguage 01' the journalist feature-writer works hecause we do indulge such iJ1quisitiveness at readings. Em phasizing t he a udience's imme­ diate reacti o n to t he poet is a means o f remi nding everyone 01' the impo rtance of tha1 rela tion. T hc hilherto unwitnes!)cd wri lor reveab hil11selr lo he lea n and li m bcr. él sha rp dresscr, who re.lds in a tone uf voicc which n;wa h Ihe :lI1xictv nI' i nn lJCIl~C by 1l1ergin g the 1 ~1n\!S 01' two pnel 111 edl·ccssnrs.

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UlüIll ige's willy acctlLu)1 illlplics a critical poinl not only about the timb re 01' rda tiolls bctwccn pcrformcr and audience, but about lhe poetry ilsclf which uninlcntionally makes lhe superficies of the performer too visible. He qllntes some lines rrom the reading ('·that poelry ean medica ll y do you go oJ / through evoking deliberate shadow / of unmentioned im ago / defeati ng expcclations and stock responses" ) and comments th a t they poscd a problem rol' lhis part icular audience: "as sO oflen, Fisher did no t indicate where he stood wi lh regard lo this definition. " 20 The unmentioned imago becomes the well-dressed perso n 01' lhe author whi ch may defea t ex pectation$ and do l he a udience good. bul does so withou t the poetry. By telling us wlr at Fis her looked and sounded like, Bromige tells us too litera lly where F isheT stood , but of Cou rse lh is information fa iJs lO telJ us where Pisher stood metaph oric­ ally with regard lo such statements in the poetry. F isher withlleld the asscvera­ ti ons wh ich Bromige wan led, so tha t the auth or he perfo rmed , the Fisher who stood in a known place, was (unusually) not immed iatcly translata ble into the Fisher in the discourse of the poetry, in the manner which Gi nsbe rg lriumphantly achieved . That Fishcr might deliberately be attempting just such a diremption is not reall y considered . 1 wou ld argue (ma k ing my own attempt a l asseveration and an appeal to common values) that this un cer­ tainty is a necessary element in the wider project of Fisher's poctry. which attempts to find an ethjcs 01' contemporary urban !ife by deliberately juxta­ posing the many dirrerent knowledges used by the authori ties as the basis of their decision-making. and then confronting them with ethical and aesthe6c challenges. i n an attempt to transform them into new, radical projed s for the future . Bromige criticizcs F isher for allowing authorship to fissure. My otller example shows an author making her prescn ce suffuse both presentation and poetic meaning, by anticipating rclations \Vith a live audience, and providing a metapoetic narrative of reception alongside its other narratives. Denise Levertov's pocm, "The day lhe audience walked out on me, and why" ( May 8,1970, G oucher College, Maryland)2\ is available as part ora reading done as a stLldio recording specially for iss ue on tape, so is not quite the same as a public reading. but nevertheless demonstrates one aspect 01' what would be likely to be its effect when pcrformed at a reading. The poem is an account or how she read two poems against the Vielnam \Var in the coUege chapel a t el ceremony to mark the k illing of the students at Kent State by the National Guard, and then followed the poems with a remind er of all the other students. espccially African-American students, murdered in the civil rights struggle. The audience gradually waIked out on her as shc spo ke, and one man told her that "my words / desecrated a holy place." Thl! man 's denunciatíon implicitly acknowledgcs the powe r of he r speak ing, and he r poctry, even ir he sees iL as evil. Levcrtov 's del ivery delibera lely blurs lhe bO llndarics belween ~r>eech anl.1 writ ing. nwI..i ng lu:r wrili ng SOlHld cxlempore.
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to ilscL,. ("whi lc I spokl·"). p.. . ltku (¡trly by rd ~rrin g lo thc specch that pro· vo ked the walkout as hcr " rap, " associaling it with oral African-!\mcrican culture. As she reads the pocm, Lcvcrtov keeps dosely to thc line breaks, yct man ages to make thom sound ine vitable, as ir she wcre jusI telling an anec­ do te. I-Ier vl,lice, which sounds uneloar, th ick. laden with somo uncomrortable affect, suddenly d ears and softens wheo she recalls the signs of May outside the doo r. J le r li ghter tone stands in the same relalion to her earl ier hea viness as the spring outside does to the J ark culturaJ interi or of this time, a nd prefigures the voice tha t would be possible if the audience for the ncw poem were abIe to meet her in her wish for them to form a group capable of mourn ­ ing l he murders in this in tersubjeelive ritual, a nd vowing to make so me fo nn 01' reparations. T his poem is a bont a n audicnce. an alld ience tha l refuses lo listen, beca use to thei r ears her "rap" illegitimately extends the occasion to a ritual observance ro r all the murdered studen ls, black and whíte. H er tal k had tried to conscript its white listeners into a ritual they would not accept , and so they le[t. refusing to be an audience at all.Her poem recounting this walko ut is Iherefore itself a ritual made self- a wa re. a ritua l of remembrance for another read ing, as well as the murdered students. Anyo ne hearing her read the p oem aloud wo uJd be constan tl y aware of the contrast ( 0 1' possible simila rity) oftheir own beh avi or and that of lhe complacent white chapelgoers of Goucher. The poem seems to be abou! one past incident. but when performed as a reading, even on tape, beeomes, thro ugh the authority of the poe!'s voice, a challenge to the white lis tener to acknowledge the significance of African-A merican campaigns for justice. Leverlov's poem is explicit about the way perfo rmance stages the presence of the author as a challcnge to t bc audience to liste n and confront what it mean s to a5sert these words, or depart. literally or figurativcly withdrawing from the negotiations enforced by the presence of the author alongside and not only within , the text.

Speech and writing Are poetry readings logocentric? The present e of an author might seem already enough to indict poetry readings of irredeemable logocentri sm . In addition they seem to be paradigma tic cases 01' the privileging of speech over wri ting, as a highly charged inversion of the history of language is p laced centre-stage 01' the topos of the poetry reading. \VritiJlg becomes specch as the p oet reads, hinting at a nostalgic return to an apparently lost oral culture. As 1 said earlier, however, it would be premature to say \Ve have surpassed a culturally infantile oral stage. The passage from orality to literacy, and from conversa tion to print, is a transfo rmation wh ich is never com plete: " oralit y insinuates itself, lile onc 01' the threads 01' which it is com posed. into the netwo rk - an end less ta pestry - 01' a scri plural econorny."12 Poetry readings Wlt ltl bl.' ima gincd as atlempls lO perrorm ti tcm p\)ra ry revcr~al 01' lh is long rcvol ll lin ll Such ma l backslidingcou kl be il1lerprctéu as a \:\llk\:t ive ycarn in g

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ro r a n earli er era whell llll' poct was a bard, a figu re endowcd with the powers 01' a shaman anu leader, an era when, according to F rie Havelock 2) a nd ot bers, poctry was ¡he repository of history a nd k nowledge for él community where wri ttcn record s did nol ex ist. T he contemporary oral poetry move­ ment Ied by fi g ures such as Jerome Rolhenberg often tal ks as if this was so, invoking "older tri ba l cultures,,24 and valorizing th e primi ti ve, as if there were a direct continuity with this past. The vatie enth usiasm 0 1' sorne poetry reauin gs in thc I 960s anu ea rly 1970s (e ven ts at the Albert Hall , sorne 01' the readings associated wi th t he anti- war movement in America 1'01' example) migh l suggest thal pocts and audience hungered for such a relurn lo vanished poetic glories. Wha t then is the significanee of lhis a ppa rent logocentric demonstration? Co uld lhe poetry reading actually be a fo rm of practical critiq ue of certai n aspects 01' logocentricism? Contempo rary p oets ha ve certainly been very much awa re 01' the a no ma lies o f the standard poelry rea cling. so much so that so me have tried to rcsolve them by abandoning one 01' other side of the process. A few even refuse to give readings, impJying that oral performance in public is irrelevant to their project. O thers, li ke D avid Antin , ha ve aban­ doned prio t for improvisation , a ltho ugh usuaJly based on sorne p ri or written structure. One way 10 begin to grasp the si gnificance of the t ranslation from writin g to speech is to consider what would ha ppen if sornething else were substituted for spoken wo rds . Stephen Rodeter ends rus pocm "Pretext" with the sentence: "To my left is Philippa , who will be signing for m e."25 What \Vould ha ppeo if the poet actualIy " signed " the poetry instead of speaking alo ud? What relation do speech, sign language, and writing have to one another? O liver Sacks, in his popular account of the sign la nguages of the deaf, says that tod ay: "Sign is seen as fully comparable to speech (in terms of its phonology, its temporal aspects , its streams and seq uences), bul with uniq ue, additional powers 01' a spatial and cinematic so rt at once a most complex and yet transparent ex pression and transformation ofthought. "26 What d oes it mean to say that sign language is both " fuIl y comparable" to speech a nd at the same time has "uniq ue, additional powe rs "? This suggests tila t the signed reading would be di fferent from the spoken one. According to a researcher into sign lang uage, it " produces a structuralIy differen l a pproach" to an ordinary task like explaini ng the plOI of a movie, beca use it is more " image­ based ," although it is just as capable 01' abstracti on a nd complexity as spoken language .27 Sign language is a reminder that phonetic la ng uage is not the only possible performative rendition of a wri tten text , and lhat this is nOl the same as translation fro m one spo ken lang uage into another, say from English into German . Writing is no more written in speech than it is in signo as any ph onetician on;onversa lion analys l knows. T he o ral performa nce of él poclry re
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Podry rcaJin gs lI1a lw Ikcl ill l' ly pClce plihlc Ihe 1I11sIah lc lran slll ons betweel1 dilTerenl signi fyi ng Illedia , as il llle j1 \)cm 's signi lica liolls could be bC"l unden;tooJ al lhc margins 01' signifil:ation where such rad ical transrorma­ lion occurs. Poelic meéul ing is p roduced on the border 01' transi tion between so und and visua l marks, osci llating back and forth , ma king evident by this in terruption of th e ordinary, impercept ible, smooth funelioning of signifil:a­ ti on. the re.spol1.1'ibililies of meaning-prod uction to lhe audicllce an d poet. From the slandpoint o f deconstruction , a poelry reading would seem lO be shirk ing th ese res ponsibilities and endorsing a bel ief in the power 01' speech which is no longer tenable. Tcx tuaJ ity is the real area 01' activity for decon­ struction . Actual speech is only an llninterestjng seco ndary phenornenol1 , an assumption already prefigured by Saussure's linguistic redircclion of attcn ­ tion from actual utterances (" paroJe") to the codes (" Iangue") which ma ke them possiblc. In his study of the relation s bctween speech and writing, Q Grammatology . Derrid a loca tes many of his a rguments al just l he margin belween speech and wriling that is acti va led in poelry readings, because he believes that it has given rise to man y misap prehcnsions. Oue central a rgu­ ment isolates the momen! when a speaker becomes her own listener. c10sin g the circllit of language p r()duction , in a si mpler version of Ihe poet hea rin g herself read a lo lld poem s she wrote on another occasion . This fa miliar self­ conscious experience 01' simultaneously speaking and Iistening to oneself speak. has, according to D errida, provided a misleading image of the rela­ lions belwCcn la nguage an d subjectivity 1'0 1' the Western p hilosophical tradi­ tio n. Aristotle. for eltample, says that: " spoken w ords (ta en te phone) are the syrnbols of men ta l experience (pathemata tes psychcs) and written words are the symbols 01' spoken words. "28 Derrida deverly projeets such assumptions into the situation of hearing oneself speak (s'el1lendre-par/er), an experience which provides lhe basis for logocentrism: " that experience li ves and pro­ c1aims itself as the excIusion of wri ting, that is to say of the invokin g of an 'exteri or.' 'sensible.' 'spatiaJ' signifier interrupting seJf-presence . "29 When you hear yourself spcak it is easy to assume that the la ng uage issues directly from the realm 01' thought without loss of immediacy. This c10sed circuit is an image of the supposed perfect self-reflex ivity 01' consciousness , wl1ere con­ seiousness in langllage becornes pure self-consciousness, a transparent self­ relation 01' unalloyed self.. presence. According lo this metaph ysical picture: "co nsciousness is the experience of pure auto-affection.·' a nd the lagos "can be jJi'oduced as aUlo-arfeetion , only throu gh th e voice: an o rder 01' the signifi er by which the subject takes from itself into itself, does not borrow outside of itself the signifier that it emits and thal arfects il a l the same lime. ,,~o Derrida 's line of argument assumes tacitly th a t post-Cartesian phil oso phy always considers subjectivity as "self-presence " or self.. rdlec tion . Ile is then able to d ia¡,rnose th e overvaluati on 01' speech a l 1he expen se of writin g as a rcsul l 01' lh\! way Sl l!.:cch appeared to be a natura l exlcnsion 01' tll ought iL<;clf. becausc sud , l.' ~pl' l icu~!.:s as hcar in g o ncselr speak scemeJ lo (lrrer a ~() nlirl1lin g, ,,~ ,

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expericntial image 0 1' ttu.: n:a li ly 01' subjcctivily. Langlla gl.! appl~ars to be a ph onetic structure ror which writing is an incidental addi li o n. a mere system o f marks transcribing its sounds. Derrida shows t hal a careful examination of the nature 01' writing showsfirst 01' all that it cannot simply be the direct expression of thought, and that this is why most thin kers have set it aside from their deliberat ion s. By a deconstructive move of the ki nd he has made his own, he then daims tbat the charactcristics 01' writin g cannot be a simple transcription 01' specch either. Writing cannot be self-idcntical an d prod uce fi xed . clear meanings. b ut this must be lrue of aH languagc beca use a ll fo rms orl anguagc can be redescribed as writin g. a nd hence tbe " différance" o f wri l­ ing, its imbrica tion of absence aJld deferrat must be generally true, 01' speech as well as of writing, Therefo re no htnguage, no t even the speech that hea rs itselL can be the matri x 01' transparen t sel f-consciousn ess, amI certain con­ cepts, Like "s ubject " and "mcaning," are revea led to be meta p hysica l, despi te their apparent tangibility. T he lerm "subject," for example, " will refcr, by the entire thread o f its history , to the sllbstantiality of a presence unperturbed by accidents, or to th e identity of the selfsame [le propre] in the presencc 01' self­ relationship ."31 These arguments aSSUllle tha t ex periences (however abstract and hypothetical) 01' hearing-onese lf-speak actua ll y can occur and result in (mistaken) conclus ions a bout the relatio ns between tho ugbt and language. Th is leads to the interesting possibility that ccrtain n t uals in everyday life might in part attempt to stage such ex periences in order lo sustáin or chal­ lenge the crucial metapb ysics. D errid a's own p resentation of th e arguIDcnt seems to tacitly ex.pect th at. at the very least, the acti ons of ana lytic argument will takc place, as can be seen in his di scussion of literal meaning. The experience of hearing oneself speak functions as ao anchor to the supposed ca pacity for literalness of languagc: " The literal [propre] meaning does not exist , its 'appearance' is a necessa ry function - and m ust be analysed as slIch - in the system of di fferences and metaphors. The abso lute parousia of the literal meanin g, as the presence to the self of the logos withio its voice. in the absolllte hearing-itself-speak. should be situaled as a fll nction respooding to an indestructible but relative necessity, within a system that encompasses it. T hat amOtUl ts to situating !he metaphysics or the ontotheology ofthe logos,"12 The exposure or this creation 01' the literal is an action , the action of phil o ­ sophical argument. as the verbs " analysed ". " situated." ano "situating," as well as the injunction "should ," al l attest. If we do not assllme that philosophical action is the on ly possible response to such experience, then other kinds of action mi ght also ereate similar criticaJ effects, and one ofthese could be the public performance of writing as speech. III which the " metap hysics orthe logos" is situated in a speci nc history. place, and inte rsubjective rclation. A wider narrative in Oerrid a's disclJssion places deconstruclion io a history measured in sel r-illlportanl millennia , ano uscs the woró logocen t rism as the mIme ror a historica lly localab le act ivily assod ­ a ted with Westcrn lhoughl. It loll ows thM the "cxpcril.: nl.:('!" rcfe rrcJ lo coukl l~

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itself be untlergoing ch angc, al1ll111vrC sign illcan!l y. nllghl bl.! I.:apabk 01' o.1l.:ls or o¡;casil>lls ofsell'-exé1millatioll which create and test Sl1ch cxpericnccs within delimited d iscl1 rsive events. Poetry readin gs could be said lo dramalize slIch anchoring cxpcriences as hea ring-oneself-speak, thus demonstrating pertinent comple xities oflanguage, subjectivity, and illtersubject ivity that sometimes challengc existing descrip~ tions orfered by linguistics, philosophy, and Ii terary theory for the production and rece ption of texts , beca use they prov ide experiences which do nol al ways su pport the local metaphysics of the day . They resi st attempts to constrain acts of readi ng and in terpretation as ei ther singular or ¡,reneric processes. Thl! poetic text in thj s sit uation sometimes exceeds existin g explanations 01' its functioni ng and significa nce, and this excess forms one 01' the maio reaso ns for their contiouing s uccess. P oetry readi ngs present p roblems of contem­ porary language a nd communication in manageable but unresolvable form, problems which of course are ofteo al so active in Iwentieth-century philo­ sophy, amongst other ven ues.

The sound of signs "Wo rds change in spoken language," as Ted Greenwald puts it. 33 Since most poets agree with the general sentiment of Louis Z ukofs ky's c\aim tha L " t he sound of the wo rds is sometimes 95'1., of poetic presen ta tion, "14 if no t a lways about the exact percentage, it is not su prising thal p oets, and th ose who go to readings to hea r th em, generally agree that the opportl1nity to hear the poelll vocalized is the usual justification for contemporary poetry readings . T hey say that hearing a poet read work aloud helps them comprehend it better beca use the auth or's oral ioterpretation ol' tone, gesture, and emphasis can c1arify what was not always immedi ately perceptible on the page, providing a training sess ion in the effective receptí on of the poems, especially how to hear the actual sound qualities of the poem . C o uld this apprenticesh ip equally \Vell, if less readily , not be done on one's own? The perceived advantages of public rcadings of poetry depend to a large measu re on the value attached to the sound of poetry as a cognitive element 01' the poetry. The problem has been that no discourse exists for analyzing and justifying this experience as more ¡l1 an the pleasure 01' sound for itself. Recent literary theory has sidelined th e actual qualities of so und in language , beea use it Icans heavily on Sauss ure's concept of the arbitraríncss of the signifier. which has been taken to mea n that the actual ~ound ofa word is nothing more than an Clllpty "ehicle for produc­ ing signs. The dirrerences between the phonemes are what co unt, not the quality of the actual sounds themselves. The result has been negleet of the theoretical possibility of semantic significa nce arising from sound in poetry, despite the wide agreemen t amongs l wri ters abo ut its deep sign ificance to th ei r craft. The orcll slagc o f psychic dcvcl opmcnt is the earliest. according to psycho­ una lys is, ¡¡nu tJlÍs scnse 01' lhe prim itivc charactcr 01' o rali ly has sometimes

353

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T his fo rmulation is notoriollsly hard to give a rigorolls intcrpretation oL Wh at is meant by an internal connection'? Many commentators have wri ttcn as ir the connection wOllld be between a referent amI the sign ifiCf , ei ling an other 01' Saussllre's cxamples, the word arbre ami his accompanying d ia­ grams. Vet he surely means that the idea of tree o r sister ex ists indepcndcntly 01' uny particula r signifier. and is only linked IIp to one by some arbitmry , lIllconscious, consenSll
poels is lhal Saussure is nnl L(uik accmale 1\) suy t(¡al idea and sequence 0'­ sounJs have no conneclion. Pattcrns 01' ideas oftcn have corresponding pal­ lerns ofph o nemcs. The words ror ramily mcmbcrs, sister, brolher, fa lher, and mother, all end in -er, and the latter lhree share Ihe endi ng -lher. In F rench a similar asymmelric pattern of endings links lhe last three a nd distinguishes them from lhe fi rst. As the linguist Li nda Wa llgh, who worked cl osely wilh Roman J ~lkobson , points out, sllch patterns mean lhat juSl a ny sound would not do as él representation 01' the idea of sister. 37 Sauss ure's remark tha t any sound wouJd d o as well to represent the idea 01' sister concea]s a tacit ass ump­ tion of great importance. He means that given a di fferen t cultu ral hislory in which so unds and mea nings had come lO be associ ated in differen t ways, then l he idea 01' sister cOllld have been marked by a diffe rent sound, but he makes it appea r as if sorne tind 01' arbitrary decision , made independen tly of lhe rest of la nguage and history. is the abstract paradigm for the si gnifying co n­ nection. The psychoanalyst Palll Kugler notes that such sonie isolllorphisms occur even in different languages, and based on differcnt root soun ds. The pattern created by violet. violate. violent seem~ to have eounterparts wil h the G erman E/ul (bl ood), Blulen (blossom). hluten (to bleed), the Hungarian ver (blood), ve/'es (bloody) . a ud verag (ftower), a lld the E ngli sh trio camation, carnage, incarnatio n.J8 K ugler attributes these pattems to J ungi a n arehctypes but th ey could be ex plained in less mystify ing terms as resultin g froln cultur­ ally established patterns 01' association which have been common to related European societies. Such examples sllggest lhat Sa ussure is wrong to claim that the whole sequence of sounds bears no relation to Ihe idea. Can the principIe of arbitrariness be reseued by moving the claim o ne :;tep further down the chain and saying that the individual sound is arbitrary? Accord­ ing to the lingllist Lind a Waugh even this is nor enough to accoun t fo r th e patterning 01' "ieonicity" of language. Saussure himself seems to recognize this later in the Cou/'se in a passage less often cited: " A linguistie system is a series 01' phonetic differences matched with a series of conceptual J iffer­ ences."'9 This description does not assume that corrclation takes place only at the level of a word , although sorne kind 01' mapping must occur between the two systems. Derrida's deconstruction 01' Saussure takes up this point in Ihe Cou/'se and argues that it exemplifies the metapb ysical idea of the sigu which has had a hold over the modern period oD errida thinks that Saussure fa ils t o sustain his arbitrariness hypothesis (which Derrida endorses) because of a eompeling claim that there is a natural bond between sound and sense. Although the link between a specific signifkr amI a speeific signified is arbitrary, this is still governed by the natural relalion between " phonic signifiers and their signifieds in general." T his interpretatioll of Saussurc depends on a tendentious reading of a passage that Derrida repcaledly ci tes. In a discussion ofthe proper objeel 01' li ngu istie SI UdY' Sa ussun: a rgucs lhal tlle prestit,TC 01' writ ing has misled man y lill pllls ls ill lo making fal sc gencralizalions abo ut languagc dunnology.

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heclI cu rr icd over inlo lil l!lll1 )' and clIlI lira I lhoor)' . Púcl!:i' illsislcnl call lo IccPgll uC a no n-scmiolic, and som ctim c ~ nonlingllistic. dimcnsion ha~ o nen cJlloalTas~ed modcrn critics lrying to establish the in lellectual gravi ly 01' poctry, cspecially after what have been widely perceived lo be symbolisl and Kca lsia n cxcesses ofsomc latc-nineteenth-century poets. Lacki ng theoretical rcsollrccs tú analyze its positivity, they ha ve mostly sidelincd it, trea ti ng it as an unwelcome distraclion from lhe pro per rigor of fully develo pcd ration­ ality_ and the richness 01' distinctive voiee. Even the high theorists follow this lineo Julia Kristeva's association of sOllnd in poetry with thc unconscio LlS cho ra is cha racteristic. 35 Her concepl of the chora. the pre-semiotic space 01' rhythmically organ ized psychic drives characteri stic of the oral stage. presup­ poses tha t the psychic experience 01' so und occurs o n the far side of conscious rati onality and rcprescntation . She describes the foregrounding of sou nd in poetry as a disruption 01' the political laws and ordcrs of thc symbolic, but in doing so sees onl y lhe destruclion 01' scnse and not lhe inno va tive construc­ tions which the poetic virtuosi ty of phonic display can create accord ing lo poets. The oral stage is imagined as incapable of devel opment without reli n­ quisrung orality itself. Literary theory has not provided an adequate account 01' sou nd in poclry, a nd hence a way 01' considering poet ry reading~ , largel y beca use of its somewh at un examined reliance on Saussure's assumptions abolit sound. Saussu re's Course in General Unguis/ic.\', the primary source for a model 01' language in recent literary theory, is as mllch an a.ccount of how to stud language as an account 01' what lan gllagc is. In the following key passage where hc underlines the importance of assuming that the linguistic sign is arbitrary. his reference to the collective action of the analysis is a reminder that this is a deliberate process of isolating and defining a phenomenon for a particu la r kind of stlldy: The link between signal and signification is arbitrary. Since we are treating a sign as the combination in which a signal is associated with a signification , \Ve can express this more si m ply as: the linguis/ic sign is arhi/ra/'y. Tbere is no interna) connexion, for example, between the idea "sister" amI the French scquence 01' sounds s- " -r which acts as its signal. The same idea might as well be represented by any other sequencc 01' sounds.16

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Thin king (JI' Iinguists , Saussure argucs: "The written form of a woro strikcs us as a pcrmancnC solio objcct ano hence more fitting than its souno to ad as a linguistic unit persisting through time. A lthough the connexion between woro ano wr itten form is superficial amI establishes a purel y artificial unit, it is none Ihe less m uch easier to grasp than lhe natural and onl y authcntic connexion , which lin ks woro ano sound. ,,40 Derrioa picks up that lasl c1aim . ··the na tural ano only authentic con nexion. which link s woro ano soum.1," a nd ma kes mucb 01' it: "This natura l bond 01' lhe signified (concept or sense) lo th e phonic signiller would conuition lhe na tural relations hip subordinating writing (visible image) to speech .''''1 A critic 01' D errida's co mmen taries on J l usserl and Saussure, J. C laude Evans, argues that he is mak ing an unwarra nted Icap from Saussure's point that Iinguists stuu ying the structure of lan guage should concentrate on the system 01' utterances, to the c1aim that Saussure, in com mon with moucm philosophy, imagines tllat specch gives direct access lO thought. 42 Evans is surely right about this specific reading. Saussure would seem to be saying somethi ng very similar to Derrida, that there is no such thing as phonetic writing, tha t the lin k bclwecn written word and spoken word is superficial , and th at the proper or natural subject-matter of Iin­ guistics is the sign, wh ich at this point in lhe CO llrse of lectures hc has not yet c1early ucfined as a combination ofconcept and sou nd-image, or signifier and signified. However, Derrida's point is a broader one than E vans recognizes. Saussure does conceive of lan g uage as a system 01' sound-images lillked to thoughts, as if sound were the inevitable first stage w hereby th ought uevelops into lallguage. The di fficu lty of interpreting Saussure on this question o f the pertinence of phonctic patterning in titerary texts for the production of semantic effects underlines how much work remains to be done in this area. Existing theory does not make the d iscriminations necessary for the task. Two recenl essays indicate ways in which sound in poetry might be under­ stood witbout simpl y turning our backs on Saussure and literary theory. In a pair 01' public leetures, the poet J. H. Prynne questions the dogmas of litera ry tbeory by demonstrating the range of ordinary interpretative strat­ egies for reading poems wh ich rely on the assumption that sound effects are " motivated" rather than arbitrary. Literary theorists daim to believe that : "If language is a system of meanings and meaning-relations, then an y kind of efficient carrier which coulcl encode and deliver its discriminations would be adequate to efficicnt performance; there is no need for an idea to be matched by a word-form at an individual level: the sign is arbilrary ." 4" In practice almost cveryolle ignores the rigidity ofthis c1aim . Poets have always cared for the sound effects oftheir vocabulary, for its roughness and smooth­ ness , its harmonies and tones. its rhymes, alliterations, and onomalopoei as. and so the sound quality of sign ifiers in poetry can be said lo be a l least partially motiva led. and lhickcned with inten t ion. Prynne argucs th al all langu age in use a ct ually em;ompasses a dense texlurc 01' u iach ronic "sccoml­ ary rclalions , all()wing fllnclional conncclion fl"llln scn~c lo sOlllll1 (vi n lating

one sySlcl11-gc ncrtl 1cd 111 11: ) ¡¡ lid 1"111111 "n 11 lid lo SC IISC (violaling alllllher); slIch i n lc ll~dy wi11 y DI' la ng uagc-conscillus pcrl'orma ncc be rccognised lo run alh:l'Ila lingly bac k amI I'orth , 01' even in both directions al once. ,,44 T hesc: secondary relatiolls are historicall y local associations betwecn sOllnd vallles and hoth Ideas and emotions, associations which are pragmatic rather than systelllalic, and do not therefore umJermine lhe system itsclf. He makes this point beca use Iinguists have insisted on the arbitrariness hypo ­ thesis partly to rc tain the seemingl y necessary concept of langllage as system. Pryn ne proposes that slIch poetic play with sound as sense can be a "co mple­ ment to esse ntia lisl a nalysis of structW'e, not so much beCa use it o perates more in oll e dimcnsion than another (e.g. historical space ra th~r than conceptual space), bu t beea use it is an aggregating a nd proliferative in stigation. recursively hack-folding and cross-link.ing, a nd this ki nd 01' incor po rative opporlu nism is idiomat ic for a whole pattern ol' cultura l practice in which lang uage is a centrally-mediating agency. " 45 A Ithough Pryn ne wishes lo retain th e C011 ­ cept of system, he also recognizes that language is inherently performative - spoken. dialogic, contingent. He indirectly recognizes the potential of per­ formance by emphasing the way signifying media extend beyond basic phonetic units: " 1f language is a social code 01' interactions, in which perfomlance is an expressive procedure within a context of sense-bearing acts. then anything that can count towa rd meaning may do so: intonation, style-Ievel, choice of words and ol"their sounds and echoes."46 This 1eads him to be ambivalent a bout the status of the arbitrariness hypothesis, at once calling it into question and then backing off into qualifications which reduce the significance of sound pattern to contingent, occasional and local collaborations of interpretation . His discussion does recognize the difficulty 01' applying a theoretica l method, designed to isolate the phenomenon 01' language for anal y tic study, to a performative event in which th e boundarics between different structurings of significan ce, both linguistic and non-lingu,istic, beco me permeable and at times indistinguishable. Bis conclusions could be taken to mea n that public performance is redundant , since if a poem is already an expressive interaction gencrating the tonal and decisionist range he mentions, then it might have no need for any additional resources. Indeeu they might only obl'uscate the intended field of readerly engagement. Thc conlinuing prevalence of poetry readings suggests that few poets and readers believe that poems are capable 01' achieving this ideal without further performative resources, in the contem­ porary scene. Prynne's argument has affinities \Vith the work 01' Rornan Jakobson and Linda Waugh. In a recent article aimed at lilerary theoris ts Waugh arglles that the concept of arbitrari ness has led lo con fu sion hecause it has bcen m uddled up with the conce pt Qf convcntionality. Wo rds can llave a phonetic form which is a malter of convention, Wilho Ul a t Ihe same li mc being arbi­ lrary , sumel hin g mosl cviJent in the way Ihe sO lJ no li>rrTl~ of wllrus cxh ihit n,:bl illlJ' ;III\()I1 I''i l I h C/11~elvcs whic h I"lInction nll hcr likl! visual JiaAru ms. alll.l

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hl: ~al kd 1l'IlIlIL SIIIISS III C hilllsdl' rccugll i.lcd Ihu l Illany wordo.; dis­ pb ycd whal hc cal lcu "n:lull vc ar bilrarincss," or "dcgrccs 01" arbitra n ncss," hl't:ausc SCHlIl' sig ns are " mOliva teo to a certain e xtent. " The word "di x-ncu r " is C()ll1poscd nI' two words wh ose mea ning lile ra lly adds up lo the mean ing 01' the entire wo rd. Waugh shows that this is only one ofmany kinds oficonici ty ami esti mates that about SO percent 01' all words are motivated in some fashion. Iler range 01' examples a nd re ports 01' linguistic j'esea rch ba<.:k IIp what poels have always saio: thal lhe sound ofwords within a specific langua ge is hi gh ly sign ifican t, a mi thcir composi tion requires great a rtistry to create effective pattems 01' mcaning. She says that "speakers of a language differ widely io how salient the assoeia tions are fo r thcm. T here seems to be a continuum a11 Ihe way rrom lhose who find such associat ions quite strong amI import­ ant, to those for whom they a re negligible, wi th many subtle differences io between .'·47 One example of the kind o f associati ve matri x lhat a poet migh t use can sutlice_ Linguists ha ve described a link betweeo high-pitehed front vowel s a mI the idea of srnall ness and light. and low-pitched back vowels and largeness and da rkness (a chip is a small cut and a chop a large one). A poet migh t therefore manage to convey these ideas simply by sorne pa ttero of vowets which will convey thi s sugges lion su b1imin all y, or use words wh ich d o no t use Ihis ki nd of iconicity (" big" and "sm all " a re fami liar examples) in con texts where the lack is also sign ifi cant. These arguments made by Prynne and W augh would req uire some exten­ sive revision of c urrent Iiterary theory, but th ey wo uld still oot go far enough to satisfy m any poets. Denise Levertov believes lh a t "the s01.tnds - the vo\Vels and consonants. the tone pattems, the currents o l' rhythm - are the chief carriers of content."48 Steve M cCaffery goes oven furtber, daiming that "it is energy , not semanticall y shaped meani ng, that constitutes the essence 01' comm unica ted da la . .. it is the scripted signifier , the phonematic unit that marks the crypt ()f a vast repression, where energy is frozen in the articulated and subordinated elements 01' repression . ,,49 The hegemony of Saussure's argument that t he sOlln d values of a language are arbitrary mental images in recent literary lheory has encouraged a general neglect of the pertinence 01' the allral qualit ies 01' la ng uage as any other than cues for significa tion. Waugh 's d isc ussion of the sO llnd of poetry still co nsiders souod as a code, just as Saussure does , but at least she recognizes 1llat the pertinent signifying cIement of a word may be a smal1 part of the overall sOllnd of the wo rd, or sorne com binéllio n 01' its sounds. Yet poetic sound need not be considered as an entirely semiotic phenomenon . Parallels with other kinds of perform­ ance, d a nce , and music, help illustrate ho\V far poetic sound can exceed the Saussurca n reduction. 'omrnunication is not 1irnited to menta l aets mediated by lan guage. Jt has muny ol her material routes th ro ugh ma tter and movement. Poetry read ings are powerflll rcm inders thal sign system ~ are also dyn amic material slructurcs, bccu lIsc sound is a ma terial ph enomcnon expericnceu as vibralio n in the

hud y, as \Vdl as a mental PCI'l:cptio n. T he :ludihh.: sUlI nd 01' a voiL:C pc rf"om1 ­ ing a pocm lile raIly all1plili c~ Ihe wurus, amI in doing so can Illake cvidcnt fcatures li kely to be k ss cvident in thc nea r-si lencc 01' private reading which wiII produce only menta lI y imagincd so unds (or possibly words muttered quictly llnder the breath) . W hen a word is vocalizcd, much more tha n the larynx and a sma11 part 01' rhe 1110 uth are inv olved : the entire body resonales with it, as it does with all a udible so und waves (this m ust be one reaso n why t he J ea/' perc ussion ist Evelyn Glennie has been ablc to develop such a sophistieated art) . The amplification is a bodily process common to aJ1 the li ve pcrfomlance arts in which the perforlller uses the body d irectly and the audience "delega tes its corporeality lo the stage ."5U Th e implications of this are easier to grasp in the case of other kind s of performance, such as dance. At a dance performa nce the audience does undoubtedly interpret speci fic Ill ovements as identifiable units, such as pliés, arabesques, and gran des jetés, for example, a nd then nificance to them, saying to itself perhaps that th e dancer is sad, or greet­ ing the dawn (in tradition al ballet at least - the symbo1ism o f cootemporary dance is mo re localized). Alongside this conscious activi ty of semiotic inter­ pretation is another ki nesthetic response, equally cognitive, but not li nguislic. in which the a udience senses the movements of the dancers in term s 01' their own bodies, not as a possible action upon them , so m uch as an action they might be making. The watcher dances with the dancer in a n imaginativ empathy which is not allowed to call the muscula ture to a<.:tion. T here is no necessary intervening stage of conscious interpretation between seein g the dancer a nd this joward imaginative movemen1 , although ma ny wa tehers wilI consciously coosider wh at they see and reflect upon what they sen se kinc­ sthetically. Similar1y, a sOllnd heard as the voice of another also produces vi rt ua l responses throughout the bodies of the audience. When the speaker utters the poem , the listeners also speak it in virtuality. The difficulty ofdescribing performance has been extensivel y studied by those most concemed with the arts of sound , mu sicians a nd theorists of music, but despite l he popularity 01' the paral1el between music and poetry in modern ist criticism , the di ffe rences make comparisons difficult. M usic is preeisely not 1inguistic despite its use of st ructurcd sound. Attempts to assess th e signific­ ance of this difference i11uminate the importancc of so und in poetry if the other dimensions of poetry are not neglected . Faced \Vith the absence of the usual markers of intellectual activity, representati on and language, philo­ sophers of aesthetics have disputcd whether music is simply an expression or evocation of emotion. or it has some more cognitive, conscious, or rational elements. A tradi tion in German philosoph y go ing back to Schelling argues that " mus ic is a non-representa tional , non-concep tual form 01' articulation ," not reduci ble lo ethi<.: s, cognilion. or emot ion. 51 To ca l1 il a rtic ulation scems to ins ist 0 11 a sil1l ilarity with la nguage, whilc hold ing back from claiming tha t il i-; ;J IICllhcr lang uage. T his is ti prüblem . W ha l is a langu H¡!(! ihat is not a

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lang uélgc? It ere Iherc is IW pamllcl lo PrYllllc's ":¡ccul1dary rdalions " lo I'all baek 011 as an explanatioll Ihat keeps the semiotic inlad. T he American poet, Loui s Z uk ofsky. author of the long poem A, was fond of eomparing poetic composition lO Bach's art ofthe fUglli:!. evel1 citing Bach's s uggestion tha t " the pa ru. of a fugue ... sh ould behave like reason able mcn in an ordinary d iscllssion."52 For Z ukofsky thi s was a li teral possibility. Mu sic's sou nd patterns co uld convey argumen t. T his cmphasis on argument is sign ificant beca use it co unter s the usual tende ncy a mongst non-m usicians lo equa te the sou nd of poetry with its emotional , non -rational dimensi ons. M lisie theorists them selves have also had to resjst thi s as:)umption that music is on ly patterned emotion , and the prejudices and sup posi tions this brings in its wake. Suzanne Langer understood this dange r, and arg ued th at music is a symbo lic form different fro m lan guage and not tra nslalable jnto it, a symbolism which " makes thi ngs toncei vable. "5J M usic is no t sim pl y a la o­ guage 01' emotions eveo if it is capa ble of emotional significance . Li le ratu re too can be described as a symbo lic form oSymbolism is a term reJega ted to the basement o f cultural history at present, so it is encouraging to see the clai m in a more recent study of the inters ubjective processes at work in c1assroom tcachin g 01' literature, and hence in literary reception more generaJl y, tha t the current trend to reduce aH litera ture to ideology " Iacks a sense of syrnbolic activity as a fundamental form of human self-knowledge and fulfilment, » 54 a point similar to Ricoe ur's reserva ti ons abo ut Freud's et iological approach to 55 sy mbolism. This is p recisely Snza nne Langer's pOÍllt, tha t sym bolic activity is a primary h uman acti vity, but not thereforc a ll reducible to one conceptual scheme or system o f symbols, lang14'lge, or whatever. Thought and commun­ ication are not only semiosis. Sound, like the d ra ma of allthorship, and the tension between spccch and writing. provides a resource ror poets to extend the semantic range of their poems. It can add another Ievel of conceptua l complexity by creating COI11­ plex netwo rks of associa tion via sound and iconicity, a kind of layering of ever fainter echoes and distant meanings. lt can also open into the sen ses through the material experience of sound waves themselves, and the bodily knowled ge of their production. David Michael Levin calls this aspect of so und , echoing Heidegger. th e " dimensionality of Being. "56 F o r Levin , one important dimensio n of bein g in th e world is so und itself, and it caHs for an attention wh ich is too often neglected in a culture which ove rem phasizes vision oHe cites Merlea u-P o nty saying that " in a sense, to understand a phrase is to welcome it in its sonorous being,"57 a sentiment ech oed by the voice coach Patsy Rodenbcrg. who writes from the experience of training actors to speak wr itin g i.n more etTective ways: "When we nced a word reaJly conn cct with it and release it in a brave , ph ysical sense - the expcrie nce is no t j usI an act 01' in lellect b ll l a reeJing (Ict feH lhroughout o ur enl irc being. " 5X Poel ,. readings slrive 10 o fle r such a wclcome to theso llJld ofwon.l s ill a lll heir 1'1I l1 ncss. and lo rellcct on Lhe consoq ucnccs and rcsptlllsihilit il:s nf Ihl.' cI H:oun tcr. 1(;0

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I ntcrsubjccth'it)' Poetry readi ngs demon strate that there is n o Othcr - only othcrs sllstain lllg the text ual economy.ln all ofthe poetry readings 1 have describcd so fa r, the audienee has played a part in generating the pocm in perform ance . lJnlike the " reader" of a text in literary theory, this aud icnce is irreducibly plural. W hen a poem is read aloud at a poet!"y reading, a n intcrsu bjecti ve nctwork arises that can become a n intrinsic e1ement ofthe meaning o f the poem. Thee ffects of this are already evide nt in my previous examplcs. Shollts of encouragc­ ment at G insberg's reading acted like a col1ccti ve " amen. " Levertov's a necdo te ¡¡ bo ut other li sleners leaving fo rced the listcncrs to her poem to reftect o n why and ho w they were Iistening, and what commitment they were collecti vely forgin g as an audience ca pable of remainin g to listen a no pa rticipate in t he project pro posed by her poelry. Fisher's audienee beca me partiall y resistant to a oemand by the poelry to take part in a large-scale evaluation of contem­ porary knowledges, and that resistance tended to reify the poet. Poetr readings are inherently collective evcnts during which a text is t he simllltane­ ous object of attentioll by many participants. 1 havc alread y con sidered some fe at ures o f this process: the aJ1cgorical transfo rmation of the ven ue and the lension between poelry an d the surrounding reminders of wh at resists poetry; the intersubjective drama of a uthorship centered on the deceptive presence of the poet as origin of the poetry; the chaJ1enges to self-reflexi ve subjectivi ties maintained by the oscillations between speech and writing; and the k inesthetic, material relations created by sound waves. It is now time to consider this intersubjective drama as a whole . To do so it is necessary to diseuss what is meant by intersubjectivity , and the problems 01' discussing it within frame­ works derived froll1 Sallssurean lin guistics. Agreement th at intenmbjecti vity is the relation between di fferent subjects as subjects hides large1y unarticula ted disagreements abou t what exactly is related and how. Is intersubjectivity conscio us or unconscious ano is it a form 01' self-conscioLlsness o r not? How does it occur: through language. a ffect, recognition. imitati o n, o r some other form of connection'? [s it the resu lt o f subjccts interactin g with each other or is it a prior condition which makes individ ual subjeclivity possible? Is it a cOllceptual delusion? An glo-American ph ilosophy has found the term useful to describe forms of coJ1ective agree­ ment that are consci o us but not nccessarily arrived at by means 01" ddibcr­ ative argument. Philosophers as diffcrent as Donald D avid son and Thomas Nagel reeognize the importance of what Davidson caJ1s "a largely correct, shared, view ofhow things are,"59 and Nagel caJ1s the " view I"rom nowhere,"('O for making sen se of objectivity. H usser1 's late work was devoted to the problem of intersubjectivity a nd has been developed into vario us theork s of thc Iifcwo rld . In te rs ubjectivity is a key term ror Ilaberm as's th eory 01' <.: omlllllTl ica tive action: "To the extent tha t languagc beco\11es cslablished al) Ihe pnllcirk 01" socia tion, lhe cond ili ons 01" socializ
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conditions ofcomrn unicativel y prod llced intcrsubjeclivity.'t!'1T his is a history still in necd 01' its h istoria ns. M y brief o utli ne is sufficien l onl y lo indicate that although no working theory of inte rsubjectivity commands general assent the question of how people interact as cOllscious beings has been widely explored in rnodern th oughl, a nd th a t it is not an adequate response to dismi ss the lerm rnerely on t he basis ofo ne specific interpretati on . Derrid a 's confident ass um p­ tion th at intersubjeetivity is al ways ass umed to be a n "i nt cn tional phen omcn on of the ego" a nd to amount to no more than " t he co-presenee 01' lhe other a nd 01' the self. ",,2 simpl y tloes not an swcr to the range 01' phil osophical discussio n beyond H usse rl. Nor can intersubjectivity be dismissed beca use so me linguisls have understood it to mean a kind o f p ure cOlll mu nica tion. 63 Derrida 's djsm issal 01' the term has a co un terparl in Sa ussure's linguistics , and its in ability lo rep resen t co mrnunicati o n adequately. Fo r lhat reason, t he intcrsllbject ivity of a poetry read ing is hard to place within a Sa ussurean linguisties and the lilera ry theory thal springs fro ro it. Roy Ilanis cJaim s that the problem arises beca use Saussure has a mistaken eoncept of Iing uistic 64 value. Saussure tries to find a mater ial embodiment 01' his key insight that language is a collective institution which is outside the conlrol 01' tb e indi­ vidual speaker, a nd does so by inserting a cogo itive ru le system, " la langue," into the mi nd of each ind ividual speaker. Severa l philosophers and linguists have argued that th is model itsc\r is deeply ft awed beca use it imagines com­ munication rather li ke a transfer 01' something tangible, as if eommllnication we re a "conduit" eha nnelin g materials from one person to anothcr, or a telephone li ne deliverin g packets of elcctrical information . Speakers under­ stand one another beca use th ey have the same inncr programing for dealing with what is sent. This m odel of intersubjectivity effeetively sidesteps the problem by covertly assuming that everyone is the same on the inside and therefore intersubjectivity 18 inevitable under the right conditions. Commun­ ication is demonstra bly unlike thi s, however, as even Sallssure admits at times in the Course. Speakers infer what one another are saying in ways which inevitably result io misunderstanding, however limited or innovative, as many commentators ha ve observed .65 The idea that communication takes place within a perfect circuit also gives a peculiar interpretation to his key theoret­ ieal proposition that " Ianguage is a system of pure values, determined by nothing else apart from the temporary state of its eonstituent elements. "r,(, The values m u:;t be fixed because otherwise communication would be impos­ sible, a travesty o fth e workj ng 01' vallles in a n cconomic system. Harris argues that Saussure fails "to see Lhat values are subordinate to transactions, not lransaetions to values, " whether in monetary exchange or lan guage67 The v<1 1ue ofsomething is determined only by what val ue is attached to it in a par­ I ic ula r tra nsaction . T ran sacti o n is a pe rtinen t tcml for poetry read ings. where linguistic t ra n:,actioll s occu r in p ublic si tu atiolls ca pa bl e 01' scl f-referenlia l fccdhuck a ho lll just slIch vul ues. These are not prima ril y j udgrncnl1; of SIIlAA!SS nr worl h, us th(; lcrm "va luc" m ight sugg.es l Sllll ll ld l a:-. sclf-rcncCli llll

invcsl igations of lhc selllanlic valllcs, 01' Illcallings, po~sihle wit hin Ihis particular group 01' language-uscrs cOl1l prising audience and poc!. Such transaetions are a form of freedom, a " poeti c in teraction " in the wo rds 01' one philoso pher, 6~ and Sa ussure 's deseription 01' them is remark ably relevant to the wa y poets crea te opport unities for interpreta tion to ftourish. Discu ssing what he ca l1s "associative relations " Sa ussure admi ls t ha t "an y gi ve n lerm acts as the centre of a constell ation, from which eo nneeted te n ns radiate (id infinitum."('9 The problem \Vith Saussu re's general system, as Harris points ou t, is that it tacitly admits that speakers are not bound by fixed values in such cases. 11' this is so it is hard to see how any word can be ~ ai d to have a fi xed value, since under certa in cond itions at least, such as t hose occu rring in the reading 01' a poe m, a l1 words a re o pened to infini ty. The intersubjectivity of the poelry reading offers important resources to poets (especi ally so me contempo ra ry avant-garde w riters), although lhe actual reading is as much " uninterruptable discourse" as writteo poetry is , according to Dav id A ntin. 70 The utteranees made during a poetry readi ng occur in a highly abstract, retlexive mode o f speech which lacks the more direct answerability 01' o rdinary dialogi e speec h, and permi ts lh e saying 01' ulterances many of wh ich wo uld not ord inaril y be intel1igible, or even sayable, in convcrsation. As public utterance it sustains a reftexive intersubjective drama of central importancc to the event t hat makes visible the readership of the poetry to itself, including the relations between readers. The audienee experieoces itself as not just the group of people p resent in the space. b ut as a group (not a singular) listener brough t into being by the performance of the poem, an audience c reated by the poetry, and it ca n there ro re also , at least potentially, imagine how this might happen witlün individual acts 01' private reading. A good example 01' the intersubjective transformations of a text during performance occurred when Susan HO\vc read ThorOlV at Southampton Uni­ versity in 1993. Susan Howe read her poems with a tone which conveyed surpri se, wonder. sad ness. nostalgia. and eareful thoughe One section which indieates the possi bilities she could real ize is the following:

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In the taped recording of thc readi ng she enunciates ind ividual wo rds wi th extreme ca re, beca use these, ratl,er lhan sentences, are her primary unit. The co1lective pTOnoun u.')ed in the presence 01' thc audience indudes her listeners., who become the "shatter of mortal particulars," For a moment it is thc a.udience's back that fcels the sun, feel::; lost in the un mapped Ameriea of t he early settlers , The alldienee is offered a posi tion of identification as a eolleet­ ive sllbject und ergoing a di sorienting exposlIre to a landseape whose meani ng is not properly artielllated , and struggling to fix its significanee wi th a bstraet ideals such as Liberty, The slight fa1l in her voiee in many lines suggests that this eharacter she has put on by reading this seetion is not o ptimistie about our enlistment. The words speak 01' exploration. of being unsu re o f location, 01' having the sun bchind some eo1leetive identi ty, Thi s co1lective she speaks for , this audience as it idenlifies itselfin the co1lective pronouo, does not q uite know where it is. bUI finds itself being spokcn fol' by a visionary Icader wbo fo l' a moment a rticulates expectations of epiphany. Listeners wonder what en ligh tenment they can hope for, what understanding 01' their condition? A British audience is also aware 01' an imaginative distance distorting its parti­ cipation beca use it is not American , and has not absorbed years of American patriotie history, years of images of discovery , exploration , and settlement in a new land, A few pages later in ThorolV the text is scattcred over the page, li!les at skew angles and even upside down , as if the text had just fallen there. ami she reads it with vigor, witb a zest and light staccato emphasis that seems to indicate more freedom and hope, especially as she says: "ca n110l be every­ where J entreat." The "everywhere J" orthe 3udience, the collcct ive brought into line behind the poem earlier, is mirrored and scattered for a mo ment. i\l ways lhe poem invites t he audience to ta.ke compass bearings, to share in the search, not rol' a mean ing denied by the performer, but mea nings lhe situation seems to makc stum blc. J-Iearing the poem al lhe read ing was to beco me a d ifferenl kind ofrcadeT lhan lhe isolated p rivate scl r who reads Lhe published lext in a jo urn ul or book. Levertov's pocm cxplícitly thcmaLizes public lislcning tI) poctry . al lhe same li me as il lakcs auvan télJ.!C n I' poclry's intc rsuh jccl lVc !wssihililics. ;IIIU

in doing so is similar to ll1any other contemporary poems which implicitly interpellate an audience, like the poem by Ilowe d isc ussed earlier. Wha l these exa mples cannot show is another dimension of listening which all poet ry readings anticipate, Recepti on is not simply ao ad diti on of individual recep­ lions, each aulonomous from the others, beca use the pe rformeu poem both modulates existing netwo rks of intersubjective relati ons a nd articula tes new ones, so that lhe aggregate recepl ion 01' the poem is not purely a series of in dependent auditions all d ireeted only at lhe poelll. If intersubjeeti vity were thought 01' as a fi eld , it wo uld be neither uní fo rm throughout it s range no r con tin L1ous. but sueh metaphors d istort lhe activity of intersubjecti vity. I nter­ subjectivi ty is onl y partly under the sway of the aut hor and poem , and is turbulento ll npredictabl e, and capa ble of warping as well as am pli fying texts. B ut this could imply that the poetic intersubjecti vi ty 01' performance was passive, and this is not the case, Just as the poet/author is a fiction actively perfonned by (he reader, so the audience too is a perform a nce, a staging 01' itself as an audience, Poetry readings delegate so rne o f the constructional au th o rity for this p rocess lo the poet al Ihe front , whose poetry choreographs the semantic adventures 01' the listening witnesses. and conlributes somethi ng as we!!. This proccss takes place largel y beyond singular articulation and ean onl y be inferred by the consequences of readings and such reílexive images as those provided in poems Iike Levertov's, Pe rformance is a moment when social interaction can study and celebrate itself and the poet is given significant new materials with which to extend the signifying field of the poem. Authorship and intcrs ubjectivity collaborate with the implicit allegorization of poetry 's potential and actual place in everyday Ji fe. Thc uns tablc balance between the mimicry of expressivc utter­ ance that occurs wh en a poet reads a poem as ir it were only then being spoken for the first time, and the self-alienati o n of reading a text written at another time as if by another self, offers a wide field of social and semantic significance rol' active poetic construction. The dramatizati on ofthe moments al which subjectivity is generated in the relations between a speaker and an audicnce opens into a q ualitatively difTerent effeet. The presentation of the poetry in a public space to an audience which is constituted by that perform­ ance ror the time of the reading enables the poem to constitute a virtual p ublic space which is, if not utopian , certainly proleptic of possible social change, as a part of its production of meaning. Pa rt 01' what the poem means is what it means as an event in which ind ividu al identity is set alongside the group identification o f an audience. Poetry readings foreground the ordin­ ary processes whereby meaniJlgs are produced with in linguistic negotíations between :.peakers in él textua l cul ture. by baJancing on the knife-edge boundary helwccn lwO sign ifying media . sO llnd a nd wri ling. at th e moment of recep­ ti o n Rca d íng is malle aware or itself as a n acliv ít y organizcd by a mI with in COllll lll llllli l·s. ;l lId c.tlling ror a locally civic vírlue,

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Conc1usion Poet ry's oral stage is not th erefore a childish regression to a mere babble 01' sound, beca use oral performance actually makes possiblc an extended sema n1.ic repertoire in w hi ch poe try fulfills more of its potcntialities. Staging, auth or­ ship, sound, a nd inters ubjectivity, are co nstitutive clcments of a poetry rcad­ ing which are revea led as el emen Ls of readi ng itself. and revca l how m uch a1l reading, silent as well as public, depends on the nelwork of hermenelltic C0 111 ­ municative interactio ns within which we [ive. T he differen l sen ses oft he word "reading" turn out to be more 1.ha n superfi cialJ y related . Poems by contem­ porary pocts use these rcsourccs projectivcly, just as composers anticipate perfOmla n(;eS in their scores, because these arc the condi tions 01' contemporary reception. R eadings are only the most sali ent form of oral ci rcu lation for their texts howcver, ,Uld even poets who never read th eir wo rk in public stílJ produce work for a cul ture whi ch is not si mply engaged in the direct inter­ pretaLi on of written Lexts as ir they were mute o bjects waiting for a fairy-tale reader to awaken them to life. Texts are alread y active projects, already 0 11 their way through an endlessly reeonsti tuLive pattern of linguistic trans­ actions which momentarUy SlIstain mean ing. The answer to my opening ques­ tioDs abo LI t poelry readi ngs is, then, neither yes nor no. Poetry readings do not do an ything very different lo silent reading if we recognize how active a place tha t silenee has in a wider dialogue of language and action. Such a recQgniti o n depends on aeknowledging that subjectivity is neither si ngular, nor reducible to the act of self-refleetion or linguistic cognition. Language shades away at t.h e edges o f the sign into significances which are not theor­ ized. Poetry readings can operate in this territory , extending the meanings 01' written poems by providing a man y-dimensioned experience of significance occasio ned by the poem and inextricable from it, a semantic performa nce that could not be recreated even in the most perfectly eidetic and imaginative mental theatre. Poetry readings are aIso far from perfeet. By trying to show how poems are enriched by public reading l have overstressed the success ofthis, and its value, as if all readers managed as well as those l disc uss here, and as if all poems were bluepri nts for a better soeiety. Poetry readings, whatever their possibiJities, can also be demonstrations 01' failure, aerasia, and disintegra­ tion. Like o ther public performances they can seduce, terrorize, and indulge their audiences, provoking outrage, ch'ead, sentimentality, and fantasies of every kind. The orallife of poetry is not simply reb'Tession , any more than it is exempt fro m the vicissi tudes of social relationships in lhe lives of perfoml ers anJ Iisteners . Yet eaeh poctry rcadi ng represenls a collecti vc effort to erea te somcth ing out of wti ltcn lex.ts that is st ill unartie lllated. Th erc is no lypi cal püelry rcad in g. I hope that r have eonveyed a sense of just how rern a rk able poetry rcadingS are. given lhat lhei r very existence oo mmonl y J epends On a few act iv ists wo rking wilhout dirccl help from p a r~ies ar inslitu lio ns .

T hi s account is based on Michael Schumacher, f) fu/I'II'/o Lion: A Crilica f Bio­ graphy uf AfIen Ginsberg (New Yo rk. Sl Martin's, 1992); Be rry Mi les Ginsherg: A Biograph)' (Lo l1 dol1, Penguin, 1990): Jane Kra1l1er, A ffen Ginsherg in Ameriw (New York, Rand om I-1ou se, 1969). Furt her background can be found in M ichael Davidson , The San Franósco Re/'loisSIIIlCC: Po erics (lmf COll1munilv 111 Afid-Cenlurv (C am bridge: C a mbridge U n iversit y Press, 19 89). .. 2 K ramer, Alfen Ginsberg in America, p. 48.

3 Schu m acher, Dharma Lion , p. 215.

4 Mi les, Ginsberg, p. 196.

5 A llen Gi n sberg, Coffeued Poenl s (H armo nd sworth, V iking, 1985), pp. 126 ·- 33 .

Regrettably thc lees for quota tion froTl1 contempora ry poets m ake it impossib le to cite even a short section. R eaders unfamiliar with t he poem should redd the opcning twent y lines a l lenst to experience some 01' the potenLial 01' this text as performance. 6 F e r bibliographies and introduction to the fleld sec W a lter O ng. O/'afily and firerllcy: The Techl1ofogizing o/rhe Word (London: Re utledge . 1982); R ulh Finnegan, Ora f Poelr)': f¡ s NlllUre, Signijicance (/n d So ciaf Conlexr ( Bloomingto n: Indiana U ni ver­ s it y Press, 1992); Viv Ed wards and T h omas J. Sien kewicz, Oraf Cufwres Pasl ami Presel1l: Ruppin' al/lf Horner (O xford: Hasi l Black wcll, 1990). Si ncc this cssay was written, Charles Bern ste in has edited a collection of essays entitled Close Lislening: oerry Ilnd Ihe Performed Word (Ne w Yo rk: O x1'ord U niversi ty Press, 1998), wh ich oiTers a wide-ranging discussion of the poet ry reading. It includes m y essay "T he C ontemporary Poetry Reading" which is a short history of the poetJ·y reading. 7 Man y poets would dispute the use of this term but there is no more commonly acknowledged te n n l O dcsignate the linguistically inno vati ve 1110dern poctries and their challenges to existing nonns and belicfs. Terrns Iikc " new," " postrnodern," and "experimental" a.re all too vague or caught up in other controversies. 8 These terms are used lo osely to distinguish, say, the poets of the Arilerical1 Poelry Reviell' cmd Faber ([nd F aber 1'rom 1'emil1ist ami anti -war poets, from poets whose IVork verges on cabaret and co medy. In practice rnany p oets cross these bound­ aries, but the categorics do usefully distinguish different audi enccs ami fonns of reception. 9 G insberg, Coffecled Pocms, p. 127. 10 ¡bid., p. 131. J I W alter Ong, "Text as lnterpretation: Ma rk and After," in Oral Tradilion in Uleralure: Inrerprelalion in Conlexr ed. Johl1 Miles Foley (C olumbia, M issouri: Univers ity 01' Missouri Press, 1986), p. 164. 12 Reed Way Dasenbrock . "Do We W rite the Text We Redd?" in his, Lilerary Theory ajier J)avidso/l (U niversi ty Park, Pennsylvania, PennsylvaIlia State Uni­ versity Press, 1993), p. 25. 13 H igh-c ul tural writing is rarely given the same kind oftrcatment that popular liter­ at ure receivcs in work like Janice Radway, Reading Ihe Romance: Women. Palriarchv and POjJufar Lileralure (Chapel I-1ill: Un iversity of North Carolina Press, 1984). Shakespea re is a partial exceptiol1 to this genera li zation. See, for example, Terence Hawkes, M eaning by Shake.I!)('(Jre (London, Routledge, 1992). 14 Alasdair M aclnt yre'. Afie!' Virlue.· A S'rudv in Moraf Theory (Lond oll , Duckworth, 1985), pp. 23 - 35. 15 Alasdair Ma clntyre, Whose .Il1slice.:) ¡\;fl/ch f~(/ Iion(/fily? (I.on don , D uckworth, 1988), p.

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2 1 D Cllisc Lever!ov, Foo/prin/s (New York , New Directions, 1972). pp. 26 - 27. 12 M ichcl de C e rlcau, Tite Prac/ice (!/El'ayday Lijé, transo Ste vcn Rendall (Berkeley, 1I 1li versity tlf California P ress, 1984), p. 132. 21 Lr ic I l a wld~k . ¡>ri:/a ce /0 P!a lo (Cambrid ge., M a ss., H a rva rd U niversity Press, 1<)(13). Scc also "T he Prcliteraey 01' the G reeks," Nell' U/erary Hls/ory, vol. 8!3 ( 1'>77), pp. :169- 92. ~4 Jerl1llle Ro!he nberg. "Prom 'A Dialogue on O ra l Poetry' wit h William Spanos ," 'n/ á"".\· Gl'u! O /her IVr iling.l' (Ncw Y o r k, New Di reeti o ns . 1981), pp. 20 ..,21. 25 Stc:phcn RoJefcr, " P retext," Four L ectl/res ( Berkeley, The Figures, 1982), p . 11 . (1 O li vcr Sacks, Seeing Vo iees: A Joumey in/() /he Wor/d oI/he D eal( London , Pan, 19(1) . p. 90. 27 J im Ky le. "Lo oking for Mean in g in Sign La nguage Sentcnees," in Language in ,S'i~/1: /I n II/ lerf/o/io/'/o! Perspec/ive 0/1 Sign Language , ed. Jim Kyle a nd B. W olI ( I.ondon, C roam Helm . 198:1), p . 193. 2X Jacqucs D e rrida. O/ Grammalo!ogy, transo G ayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Balti­ l1lore, Johns Hopkins LJ nivers ity P ress, 1976). p. 11. _() Ihid" p. 98. \1) lhid , p. 98 . 11 ¡hid., p. 69. 12 ¡hid. , p. 89. II Tcd Greenwald, " Spoken ," L=A=N:(i=U=A =G=E 7. M a rch 1979, no page no. \4 Louis Z ukofsky, A T es/ oI Poe/ry (N ew York, C. Z. P ublieati ons. 1980), p. 58. 15 1 have dis eu~sed her eoncept in sorne dctail in " O n lee: Julia K riste va, S usar:¡ Ilowc and A vant-garde Pe cties," in CO/l /el1'lpo rary Po e".y Meel s M odan Theory, ed. Antony Easthope and 10hn O . T hompson ( Hemel Hempstead: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991), pp. 81 ·- 95. Kri steva 's theory can be found in Revo!wio/1 in Poetic Language, tran so Margaret Walker (New Yo rk: Columbia Univcrsity Press , 1984). ,1(, Ferdinand de Saussurc , COll/'se i/1 Genera! Linguisrics. transo Ray Harris (London: Duckworth , 198:1) p. 67 (p. 100 in French edition , hereafter indicated \Vith squarc hrackcts). .'\7 Linda Waugh , " A gainst A rbitrarincss: Imitation and Motivatio n R cvived , with

Co nsequences ror Textual Mea nin g," di{[crities, vo!.. 23!2, (1993) , pp. 71 - 87.

,IS Paul Kugler, T/¡e A lI'herny (d' Discourse: An Arcl!e/ypa! Appro{[ch lo L(lI1gl/(f~e

(Lewisburg, Bueknell University Press \Vith Associated Universi ty P resses, 1982), p. 23. ,19 Saussure, Gellera! Ung uis/ies , p. 118 [p. 167]. 40 lhid , p. 26 [ p. 46J. 4 1 De rrida , O/ Grllmmllw!ugy, p . 35. 42 J ,-C laude Eyans, S /rat egies o/ Deco /1s//'lIc/ion: DerridlJ afl(l /he M y/h 01' the Voice (M inncapolis , U niversity of Mi nneso ta Press , 1991), pp . 152 - 65. 4,1 J. 11. Pry nn e, "S!ars, Tigers amlthe Shape of Words," the W illiam Matthews Lec­ !ures d elivered al Birkbeck College, London (available from Bi rkbec k College) , I'N2. p. l . 44 ¡/l id., p. :12. ól5 ¡hit!.. p . 34. 41> ¡hid.. r . l.

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A rbilrarincss," p. 7'5 . 4S Dc n ise Levertov, ""n Approadl lo Pu blic I>oelry I. is!cnings," U gJI/ Uf! /,,(' ( '01'1 ' (New York, N cw D i rec lioll ~, 1981), p. 49. 49 Sleve McCaffcry, " Sou nd Poc!ry," L =A =N~ G =IJ=A ;G=E 7, March 1979. no page no. 50 W illiam Fi!zgerald a rg ues th a \. a m usica l concert is beset by a tcnsion be! wecn cogniti ve a nd bodily responses in a m a nner whieh so unds similar to the cornplex­ it ies of th e poctry readiog. T he conent may aim at a "spiritua lized musing," hut " parad o xica lly, it m ay be that the institut io n of the co ncert ma kes possi ble th e very experience that it wo uld repress. O nce the él udience neith er déU1ces nor talks d uring the Illu sic, but sib, watches a mi lislens, it delegates its corpo reality to Lile stage, combi ning th e pl ayin g/feeling bodies of t he performcTS a nd t he so und ing/responsive bod ics of th e instruments into él new corporeality. T he de­ corporealiza tion of !he concert listener is a n unstable condition which ma y lead either to a spiritualized musing or to inco rpo rati on in the a utoerotic bod y of Illusical ' feeling. '" W illiarn F itzge rald, .. ' M usic is Feeling, then, not Sound': Wll llace Stcvens and the Body 01' M usi e," S uhS/lJl7ce, vol. 21/1 n o . 67 (1992), p . 47. 51 A n drew Bo wie. A es/he/ies a/l(1 S uhjec/i vily: Fro/JJ Kanl /0 N ie /zsche (Ma nchesler, M anch ester tJ nive rsit y Press, 1990), p. 1n. 52 Louis Z ukofsky, " A - 12," A (Berkeley . University 01' California Press, 1978), p.l27. 53 Suzanne Langer, Plti!o.\'ophy in a N ew Key: A S /udy i/1 lhe S y mbo!ism 01 !{eo,l'ol1 , Rile. (me! Ar/ (Ox fo rd , O xford U niversity Press, 1951 ), p. 244. 54 Ben Kn ig hls, Fro/11 Rellcler lo Reluler: 7heory. T ex l anri Prac/ice in lhl' 8l1idr C roup (I lemel Hernpstead , Harvester W heatsheaf, 1992), p. 8. 55 In Freud a/1d Philo,l'ophy, Ricoe ur argues th a t " lhe regressi ve ge nesi s 01' our dcsires does nol replace a progressive gcnesis eo ncerned \Vith meanin gs, values, sym bols. That is why Freud speaks of 'transformations 01' instinet. ' Bul a dynamics 01' atTcctive cathexes célnnot account for lhe innovatíon or advallcement ofmeaning that is illherent in !his tran sfo rmatíon ." Paul Ricoc u r, Fl'eud (lf/(} Phi!o.\'ophy: An Essaj' 011 In/erpre/a /ion , tran so Den,Ís Savage (New Haven , Ya le U ni versit y P ress , 1970), p . 512. 56 David i"lichael Levin , The Lislening Se/l Perso/1a! GrOlv/h, Socilll Change (/ml/he C!osure uI Ml'raphysics (London, Ro utlcd ge, 1989), p . 7. 57 lhid. , p. 17. 58 Patsy Rode nberg, The Ne ed jiJr W ord.l': Voice (lnd /h e T ex/ (London, Methuen Drama , R eed Publishing, 1993), p. 3. 59 Donald Davidson. " The Metho d ofTruth in M e lap hysics," in Inquiries in/o Tru/h I/l1d In/ erpre{(/tiol1 (Ox ford Uníversi! y P ress, 1984) , p. 199. 60 Th omas Nagel , The Viewji'om Nowhere (Oxford Universit y Press, 1986). 61 J urgen H abermas, The Theory o/ CO/'l'/l1'11/11ica /il'e A c/ion, Vol 2, Li(eworlcl and S y s/l'l11. A Cri/iqlle oI FUI1C1iona!ist Reasol1. tra nso Thornas McCa rth y (Oxford, Polity Prcss, 1987), p . 93. 62 Derrida , O/ GrwJ1Ina/o!ogy, p. 12. 63 Sec Talbot J. Taylor and Deborah Came roll, Ana!ysing CO/1 versalÍo/1: Rules and Ullils il1 the Suuc/ure ol Ta!k (Oxfo rd , Pe rga mon Press, 1987). 64 R o y I-larris, Readi/1g SlIussure ( Lo ndon: D uck wo rt h . 1987), pp. 230- 35. 65 See in particular Talbot Taylor. M u/ual M i,l'l/n de r,~ /(fndinf!.: Scep/icisl1/ (iI1d /he Th eorbng ojLal1guage (//l(llnl erIJre/a/io/1 (London , R outledge , 1992); R o y H arris, Tire L{/n glloge ,Wy lll (I.o ndon , D uckworth, 198 1); Jo hn McC umber, P(}(: ric 'n /('/'­ l/('/iO/l ,' 1,I//I~II({ge. Freedolll , Rell,l'o/1 (C hicago: Un ivc rsi! y of C h icagli Press, 19S9) . T;ry lr ll :11 1<1 Ila rris a re bOlh cri!ics 01' cu rren! trcnds in lillf,!ll í,tles. McC'umbc r is

w

I'L I: MIlN I S AND C I R('UMST A NCES 0 17 l)[RFO R MAN C E

66 67 6S 69 71 71

rcading aesthetics in the con lex t of Habermas's insights into the significance of intcracti o n for the constitution 01' society. Saussurc, General Linguistics, p. SO [p. 116J. Harris, Reading Saussure , p. 232. McCumbe r, Poelic Jn leracliOI1 , pp. 3S0- 428. SallsslIre, Geneml Lingl.lislh·~·, p. 124 [p. 174]. David A ntin, "what am i doing here," in talking al lhe boufldaries (Ne w York: Ncw Dircctio ns, 1976). p. 23. Suséln Ho we, TJ¡oro ll' in S ingularilies (l lan ove r, New Ha mpshire: Wesleyan Uni­ versit y P ress ami lJ nive rsi ty Press 01" Ncw Ellgl a nd, 1990), p. 50.

20

T H E IN T EGR IT Y O F

M U S ICAL PE R F ORM ANC E

Stan God/o vitch Sourcc: T/¡ e Journal

(Jr A esthet ics (//1(1 An

CriticisfI1 SI(4) (1993): Sr. SX7.

Central to the m usical enterprise is performance, the process o f getting thc work to the lislener. Foml aJl y lInderstood. p erformances are instantiations of works subject to certain strllctural and historical constraints. 1 Less abstractly, performances , as goaJ -directed activities, are subject to variou s contextual and agency-related conditions which make for their success as coheren t occasions of a special so rt and as skilled actions for which credit can be ta ken. Those condilions determ ining the coherence al' performance and the responsibility of agents in performing, 1 cal! /nlegrily conditions. lntegrity con­ ditions fal! into two types. T he fi rst type, comprising Primar)' a/UI Secondary lntegril)' Faclor.\', lInderlies our ex pectations regarding coherence, unity, and completencss in performance by defining the límits on acceptabJe depa rtllres fram certain conventional norms. Such factors make clear the relation between performance and ritual. The second type, involving the /nlegrily o/ Agency, underwrites expectations of honesty and accountability in perfo rmance by making explicit the relation between performers as causal agents and their responsibili ty ror their pcrformances. In tegrity ol' Agency emphasizes credit­ I\'orlhiness in performance and associated values attac hing to musical skill and virtuosity. In this paper 1 outline same of these factors whieh make possible any standard or paradigm performance within the "classical" tradition: i.e., the tradition of music-making in which independently identifiable musical works a re executed by h uma n beings for listeners whose principal interest is to listen to the \11l1sic made. 1 do not herci n address a ny standing controversies in the acsthetics of music. I ai m, nlther. to survey an area in m usical aest hetics which com plcmen ts current emp hases llpOI1 the nature of f1111 sicalworks, lhe (.;01 11\:111 t1 l1 d ~ 11I;¡Ii(ics ofmllsica l ,\'oltlld . a nd lhe phcnol1lcll ology 0 1' the !istel1­ ¡IIg l·\Jlllll' lh.: e :111 ol'which, IIl1d i!rst
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within ¡¡mits. everything in the work must be presented in any performance 01' it." Let us restriet performances to the execution 01' single works. The player C<1nn ot stop halfway through and be said to have performed it. Incom­ plete performances are nol obviously species 01' ful1 performances, if they are performanees at al1. T he boundaries 01' the work set Ibe boundaries of any perfo rm ance . W hat counts as complete presentation 01' a work depends on certain con­ venlions; e.g. , comp1eteness u oes not normally require a "note perfect" rendi­ tion. Some notes may be wrong or missing, some repeats may be ignored, and with larger works whole movemen ts may be left out, anu yet we may al10 w Ihat a performance proper ha:; OCCUlTed. Ifa player leaves lhe very last caden\.:e IJnrcsolved , we nl ighl comp lain that she len the pcrformance lInfinish ed, bul il' a n ill l1 ()c UOU¡; ba r 01' ra lish is o mit tcJ or in:>erteJ sOl11cw hcre in rhe middl\: \Ve ll1 ig,lt l ll\JI Lalk n l' unri llishcd hlJsim:ss_ Di lTcnm l wci~hls all m;h lOdillcrcll t ril tl ~ 11 r WM~iI. Op\!1\ I 1I}',l'o. \.· llJSI II~S. nnd cadcncc:-. in (¡l IW l l1lí li'lit: \11'1: pa niclIJa rl y

noticeable lo lhose wll\! haw bCC{IIll\: accuslolllcd lo anlici p all~ slIch bO ll ll d­ ary points. Sim ila r aco ustic lanJllIarks dominate non -ton al mus ic as wel!. We m ust approach the noLion 01' cOlllpleteness cautiously. Wc aceept performanoes of works known 10 be unfinishcd. In such cases , ho wever, we still acknowlcuge a n internal completeness. A symphony missing a move­ men t sca rcely suffers as does a mo vcment lacking its fi nal fifty measures. M usica l co rn plelcness is somewha l analogous to gra mmaticaJ and narrative integr ity. One may Iea ve a story unco mpleted (as did K afka in his The Tria!) and ye t have told a coherent tale. Missing chapters, li ke missing movemen ts, need 110 t wreck OUt' son se 0 1' tbe no vel's coh erence. One ea nn ot so easi ly leave a sentence awa iting completi011, unless. 01' conrse. the surrounding na rratlve supplies sem an tic fi ller to take up the syntactic slack. But th e sema ntic ricbness of the linguistic sphere knows no ha ppy an alog in musical per­ formance. I mD not justifi a bly leave it to my listener to fill in my m usical " meani ng, " (b) A rerformance must also present a work with o ut temporal break. C omplete presentatio n is thus not enough, Suppose a player starts, gets halfway throu gh, stops, walks offstage, returns an hom later, and o ta kin g IIp wbere he left off. completes the presentation 01' the piece. Wo rse, su prose he plays the pieee one bar a day. Th ough al1 of the wo rk has been played in proper sequence, we do not have here a proper performa nce ofit. Indeed , this prescntation failsin crucial ways because we require th al a perform a m:.e prescnt a work completely in a con linuoLl~ or unbroken apisoue. ( T here is a tradition of perforrning parts of larger works, e.g., selected arias or move­ ments, This suggests that "completeness" is hierarchical.) The strictures upon continuity are not rigid. 11' a pi ayer has a mem ory la pse. stops, regains her composure. and resumes shortly thereafter fro m the break, we might al10w that she gave a performance proper. flawed though it is, The break can even be deliberate. In a scene in the pulp fiction film biograph y R hapsody in Blue, G ersh win's Concerto in F is being performed. A pa ge rushes on stage and hands the conductor a note with the news that G ershwin had just died. The conductor SLOpS the orchestra, reads the note l O the au dience, and then asks tho players to resume where they left ore His performance has been interrupted ami then eontinued. One need notjudge it as Rawed because the break was intentional ami had a musical point, however eccentric. Such suspen sions, however, must be externally justified, 80th work- a nd tcmporal-continui ty come together regarding order of presentation; Le. ) one rn ust n ot only play through the work without break , but one must present it in the proper (e.g .. scored) order. Despite this seemingly banal poin t, sorne works req uire the random reo rganization 01' measu res 0 1' e xisting picccs, The co mposc r C hr istopher Jlobbs d isassembles and then randornly re-assem bles conventional works thus engagi ng in a '\ :a k:ul u I.i!U rc-a rtÍéula ti on 01' tJle c1 assics." I n Tlle Remo/'.I'eless Lamh ( 1970), a IWll riilllO v\! rsioll 01' Bac h's S/¡eep ¡Ha \, Stl(dF Grtt=(, was cu l up. T he righ t

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111 ally cvcnl. l hope to pro vide some organization to certain elemental r\:atures 01' pcrformance by bringing them together under the noti on 01' "integrity," a conccpt which trades between the nonn::; of unity and honcsty which reRect, in turn , upon the setting and its actors.

1. Integrity, coherence, and ritual Central to performance integrity is the expcctation o l' eontinuity rega rding (a) the work performed . (h) the perform ance episode, a nd (e) lhe agents of

performance. T hese Primary 11llegrity Factor.\' a re structuraL. comprising the chief spa lio-temporal componen LS 01' performa nce wi thou t considc ratio n o r the inner states o f pla yers or listeners o r the general action enviro nment. Secondary ln tegrity Factors fo rm a less determina ble group w hich encompass a regard for co ntinuity of (d) the audience, (e) aural exp crience, and (f) mus­ ical intcrpretat.ion. Tho ugh integrity eonditions are not equally weighted . collectively they fashion the spec ial continuity necessary for successful performance . T his continuity lends performances their characteristieally formal, ritua lized , and ceremonial quality which disting uishes them from other goal-directed act­ ivities such as painting, reading, com posin g, writing, or speak ing. One key aspect of performance is its essential !1.o l1-serializabiliIJ . S impl y put, per­ forman ce integrily de pends primarily upon sustaining an undisrupted ritual ambience. In the end , the wholeness or compl eteness of a perfonnance is él function of mood 1lla intenance. W bat 1attempt is in the spirit of transcendental deducti o n, th is time of the C ategorical Imperative: "T he Show M ust Go On ."

P,imary intex";ty jactor.~ (a) !\ performance of some individual work must present it c01llpletely; i,e. ,

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alld kit Iland parls 01' cach bar were separated ami then randomly reorgan­ i,fcd : ' T lll~se re-shufllings are not performances of the original "classics " even ir alllll e same notes are present. It is another question whether a pe rfo rmance \,1' a ral100 llJ shuffling of meas ures 01' the Bach work wh ich happcneo to yielcl a vers ipl1 idcntical in seq ue nce to tll e o rig ina l Bach counlS as a performance Ihe Ba ch as \VeU as a performance of the Hobbs piecc. Nole, what is generally temporally unacceptable with perfo rmances d oes Ih,1 exlend to all types 01' playing. R ehearsals can an d a ften do suffer both inl,;qmplete prese ntation, temporal discontinuity, and violalions of order, C. g ., playi ng the e nd befo re lhe middlc counlless t imes . (e) A performance m usl also be presented by !he same perfo rmer t hro ugh­ (HII . C o nsider a standard solo keybo ard sonata. Player # I starts playing, plays 1() rnellsu rcs . un d l hen SIOpS. Player # 2 res umes o n ene exaclly at measure 11 alld li lJishes the piece . T his is aberrant. We require in any con ve nti onal pelform an ce thal a solo work be played completely, in ord er, in olJe con linu­ OIlS cpisode, by one pcrforrner. 5 Some local ized exceptions exist, e.g ., the praetice ol' hocketing in sorne IIH:dieva l polyphony and sorne seventeen tb cen tury catches. But tbese pieces r\!quire s uch alteration. One may tolerate as novelty girnmick emiemble n:lld ilions 01' standard solo pieces where one pi aye r hands over the rest of a piece lo an o ther. T hc players may even tl'ade back and fort h every measure as in a hoc ket. F urther. o ne may excuse unplanned coo perative hero ism. The co nsum ptive soloist co11apses midway du ring the concerto, but the show is saveJ by the plucky youn g concert master w ho picks up the to rch , not miss­ ill g a beat. lIere, we ch a rita bly extcn d the staffing fr am ework o f perform­ a nce; howevcr, none of these instanccs offers acceptable routine options ror presenta lion . These tlrree eontinuity reqllirements--of the work , the episode, and the age nt- · together constilute t he minimal Primary In tegrity C ondition s fo r Ill~rfnrmance. An y pl a ying episode is a single complete performance on ly ¡f it IIICl'tS sllch conJ itions.

111 1' I N L' lltiIU TY 0 1' MUS I C A/. PI ' IU'ORMAN(' L

Ilrer Icss obvious factors affecting integri ty are importan t. T hcse include L'o ntinui ly regard ing (d) the Jisle ners, (e) the sen sory envi ro nm cnl . amI (1') t he performance interpreta tio ll. Iterc, th e em phasis is strongly upon the ilcll1l1ll1 whc rc lhe

sounds pass by the audience. Ha ndel's suitc \Vas pe rformed on a barge 1'I0at­ ing down the Thames. Imagine the a udience stationed along t be bank as the barge passed by. O ne complete performance transpires, as per the Primary In tegrity conditions , bul it systematically lacks a complete a udience. This is routine \Vi th much marching band music. In pa rades. whereas everyone can see, no one can hea r everyth ing. )'11 call a sim ilar case "Tbe G ra nd Divide. " Imagine a p layer on a stage with a soundp roof partition di viding two d iffe rent a udiences . Suppose tha t only lhe player may pass thro ugh Ihe partition . The player, unheard by aud icnce #2, begins fo r a udience # \ . Halfway lhrough, still playi ng, he wal ks th rough a door in the d ivider leaving audience #1 behind and entertai ns !he second. Neither audience witnesses the en tire presentation , even though Prim a ry Integrity Cond ition s have been sati sfi ed . Though any audience member could confirm afler the faet that the whole had been presen ted . every audience member has experienced the a ura l equivalent ofan incomplete p resentation . SoJo/' [he audience, no perform am.:e has been experienced. Even ifwe agree that a pelf onnance trans pired. the questi on " For who m'!" rem a in s unanswered . T rue, lhe playe r ex periences a11 , but not as either (or any) audience d oes, n o r does t he pl a ye r perform ror hi mself. C onsider, if perform ance were Iypicaff)' like this , lhe o nJy proper audience wo uld be the perfol'lner. 01' L:o urse , march­ ing band m usic is meant for those marching, so the mu sk:ians and marchen; OCl:Upy the sa me frame 01' reference. Ir most music. h owever, in volved dir­ ferent frames of reference for audience and players, our conce ption o f per­ formance would change. W hat, for example, would a cTitic revi ew? His OWTl immediate aural exposure? Th e hearsay 01' others? The ho nest assessment o f the players? W hat sense of the identity 01' a musical wo rk eo uld we have if we co ul d never count on hearing all of il , amI, supposing we eould, cou ld never count on having heard the work-slices in proper sequence however punctu­ ated by non-performance times? 1 do not insist that every performanl:e have an actual audience. However, \Ve do ha ve assumptions about the nature and ex perience 01' an actual audi­ ence were one present. Th o ugh o ne may perfo rm fo r o neself or for what one erroneously believes to be one's audienee, these cases are understandable as performances because 01' their relation to ru11 perfonnances. Analogousl y, one may laugh at one's own jokes, but. surely, the principal function of telling jokes is to amuse others, not oneselr,t' (e) Any performance must also be available to at least onc Iistener ror aural experiencc in its entirety. Listener Continuity requires tl1at the audience prcsent must be cOlerminous \vith the presentation. But this scems to be dependent upo n the q uality 01' Iislener expcrience rather than the physics of a ud ien cc placcrncnt. Is conlÍ lluily 01' a ural experience necessary for perform­ 7 ~1I1 l:C in lcgri ly'lTypically we cx.peCI i1. 1n ~ hc Water Musick Di Ic 111111a , 11 0 two qlcl11hcl'~ \It' II\(: a llJ icllcc hear Ihe :'I am<.: segmcll l. Ca l! \Ve ~ a y lhJ ll he aggregalc li ~I~'nllll' l'\ jlcr il: lh':"o is llflhc wh~I I\' wo!'k. i , ~ .. Ihal Ihe :lu di cllCC a!\ ;¡ wl!o!c has

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hC:1I d Ihl' whlllc P,'! hH n l,lI lu : '1 J'his i-; s hce r sophislry nI' elHll se, Smllcl h ing is ;lIl1iss wilh a pil rlúrl1l:lllel' whieh eannol be hcard in its enlircly by a ny one lisl cllc r olher Ihan the perrOmlCr. Whal 01' a casc where, as it happens, each mem ber of the audience uc li ber­ alcl y Icaves (o frlistening to) the performance for one minute, no two being out al lhe samc time'! No one has heard the wholc thing. Still, few could seart:ely t:olllplain a bout any performance irregula rities or ftaws. The co ntinui ty is pro vided by the 3vailable oppo/'tunity for continuous aural ex perien ce. (1') /\ny performance m ust also exhibi t appropriate inlerprctive co nsist­ cney. W hat happeos if the playe r cbangcs interpretive cou rse abrupt Iy'! So me cxa mples: the pl ayer starb an eighteenth-century f renc h courante with in­ el)lIalities ("notes inégales"), but unexpeetedl y shifts to strict square rhyt hm; a ca ntata sol oist goes suddenly from Baroque vot:al style to c rooner slyle; a plnyer gratuitously go~ fromjorlissimo to pianis.I'imo bar to bar in a piece meant lu he a uniform mezzoforte. A nalogous cases in d rama inelude a brupt shifts in character portraya l (unless one was pl ayingjust sllch a ty pe) or accent. One might d ismiss this as tastelessness witbo ut challenging the very in­ lcgrity 01' the performance. Ho wever, R. A . Sharpc views this more seriousJy: " . . . we cxpect a conductor to present in perlonn ant:e a unified view 01' a \·iork . .. . A performance must be througho ut a perform elllcc of a single il1tcrpretation. "~ For Shar pe. interpretive di scontinuity can be as deslructive 01' the coherence and uni ty of él pertormance as any breacb 01' Primary Integrity. Can this condition be sustained'? I cannot deal hefe wi tll questions about how hroadly the notion of interpreta lion ranges, e.g., from the color of a single note to the overall tenor of entire style periods. The examples aboye rcllect interpretativc manoeuvres. Sharpe warns of the "aesthetic repercus­ sions" of such inconstancy, though to elevate that into él necessary condition rol' performance unity seems excessive. A stunningly tastcless performance is jllsl thal. nothing more. O ne may lament about how poorly a work has been Ireated, how anyo ne could stomach that travesty for a performance of it. Still, such in terpretive jolts are more like a sudden rush 01' glltter profanities at a diplomatic gathering than they are like the murder of a diplomatic mis­ sion dllring negotiations . They don ' t destroy the piece or the perform a nce; Ihey just wreck tbe mood. I am lIneertain abollt how in terpretive consistency alTects performance cohcrence not only beca use of the complexity of interpretation but also bct:éluse th ere are no readily accessible "official " interpretive norms \Vith which lO gauge appropriate degrees of aesthetic comfort and shock.~ Evcn with a sharpcr notio n 01" interprelive t:o ntin uity , it co uld not be so cr ucia l as t,l dctc/m inc a lo ne lhe uni ty (Iet ,¡Jone identily) 01' a perfolmance. lt belongs , alÜ:r aH. lo laste, no t 10 slruclu re." 1 Sl ill, sim il ar lypc.::; or asscssl11cnl lIflecl lhc ad missi hrlit y or inaumissi bi lity nI' ccrl:Jil1 so-calle.! strud ura l di:;cnnlin ui lics l i,,~, III \lSC ca ll vasscd aboY\:

And so 011. If anything like this happens, the pertormance suffers, possibly to the extent of ceasing to be a performance any longer. A II these so-called in tegrity factors jointly signal the nced for no serious distractions, inte rrup­ tions, disruptions, disturbances, departures from some nonn . The same appues to the primary factors. Performance is not unique. We could apply the same conditions to lec­ tllres, sermons, plays-in-progress , formal meetings, and ceremonies of many kinds like religiolls rites , official dcdications , christenin gs, and marriages. Thcse are all to varying degrecs ritual or ceremonial occasions. T hey tend to be unspontaneous, st:heduled, formally structured, sequentially ordered activitics which are designed as centers and capturers 01' attention. They de mand an atmosphere of decoru m and order. Thus , they tcnd to call upon stereotyped prot:edures and behavior, t:odes 01' conduct, designated person­ nel , pre-established protocol cnjoying common consent. Most are governed by determinate principies 01' c1osure, i.e., they are deli berately and officiall y begun and terminated . T hey do not just happen nor is their occurrencc incidental. Because thei r nHl llre betokens an uncom mon strictness, their pre­ scrv"lion Ul.!mands
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lIndcr thc Ilnhelpl'lll :J ppe¡¡ 1 to COIIVClllioll. Ir wc don'( Cxc usc all lIlllinishcu linalcadcllcc, IlIl1st \Ve rtHgi vc as a Ics:;cr crime sorne inlcrpre live monstro:;­ il y? No clear line divides lhe natllre 01' our toleration threshold 1'01' struclural disruption and for more "subjective" factors . No f1rm lille separates barcly tolera ble and intolerable performances from no performance at all. Al most , we might agree that more is al sta ke in a major tempora l breakup o f a per­ fo rmance than a n intcrpretive one; e.g., o nc m ight Iiterally lose all scn se of the activity, Th is places performance integri ty complelely a t lhe merey of the eonvcntions afoot determining wholeness.

ntegrity and ritual {'olrtilruity Interpre ti ve continuity is one 01' many mood preserve rs. If inlerpretive dis­ conti nuity can inftuence performant:e integrity, so can other co nditions which sim ilarly distract and disorie nt. C onsider: (i) C012tinuity (~( Public Ca/m: D uring a pcrforman t:e, half the auJ ience gets restive and begins to hurl verbal an d physical a buse al the pcrfo rmer (the English soccer match problem). (ii) Geophysical Conlinuily: DlIri ng a pe rformance an ea rthquake hits or a tidal wave strikes or a volcano erupts or a hurricane blows up. ett:. (e .g .. the 1989 Wo rld Series 01' Baseball d isrupt ion in San F rant:isco). (iii) Mental llealth Conlil1uily : During a performance, the performer, while playing, begins to shriek, wail, and intone \.. . arn ings 01' global doom .

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('Illlsidcrw as riluaL performance difTers from olher goal-directed acliv­ The goal 01' a musical performance is to present certain speci ficd sounds. lis rillla l or .:eremonial quality is dependent upon the requirement that Ihis lask he acc~lmplishcd in spatio-temporal seamlcssness. T be primary require­ 1111'111 01' lemporal continuity entails Ihat one cannot brea k a per fo rm ance at will into d iserete bits. Unlike many other goal-direcled activities. perl'orm ­ 111 1l:es cannot be serialized. Na turally, Ihis generalizatíon can be fal sified ;¡ \ will by any "ex.perimental" \York which deliberatcl y directs one to break (lIT wherc onc pIcases and resume again ad lihi/um. But one cannot perform any convcnt ional work thus . No one is free to add a disruption cl ause as an illtel prctalive option in performing a Bach violín Partita ." ('om pa re reading a novel 01' digging a garden . T hese activities ad mi t Icmpora l punctui;J tion without loss of integrity (or, indeed, jdentity in many illsl ances). O ne can reLu rn to where one left offa fter a substantial brea k with­ oul sacrilicing the very naL lIre, purpose. and SIICCess of the activity. One's Icading 01' The B(fJ S/eep can proceed a sentence at a time with day intervals, and ycl the acti viry of my rea ding The Big S leep is no t there by wreckeJ or ll ull ilied . Thus, the ongoi ng process of my reading themystery is obl.ivious to chronie d isruption and can co-ex.ist with numero us co-processes. Hen ee 1 can Irul hJul1y tel1 you now that I'm both reading The Big S leep and composing an opera even though 1'01 lh is very minute eating a Popsic1 e and contempla ting suhversive acts. One can thus serialize novel reading, opera writing, or garden diggin g. Scrial izable activities are Ihose whieh can get our utterl y divided attention and su rvive. Curiously, certain sports are form aJly and offieial1y divided into scrializahles and non-seria1izables. Co nsider sports where the play is eontinu­ ally interrupted even in the middle of play periods {footbal1, hockey) and Ihe play cl ock stopped , and those where temporal continuity is maintai ned (socccr), One cannot "eal1 time" 50 meters down the track in the 100 meter CVl'Ill. (One might even portray sorne forms 01' obsession as irrational1 y treating ccrlain serializable activi tics as non-seria lizable.) Note, one can also seri ali ze l11usical acti vity in prae/ice and rehearsal. But one cannot serial ize perfonn­ ancc, at least neve r as casually and blatantly as one can these other activities. Naturally , fi ne-grained distinctions in disruption exist which complicate Illy Clvera1\ distincti o n. Rcading a long Ilovel can sustain just so m uch frag­ Illcnlation berore it ceases to achicve its ultimate objecti ve 01' acqua inting one wilh Ih e whole work. Reading one word a week wil1 not do it unless I ha ve an im;red ihle memory. But reading a ehapter a week might well sufflce, nor have 1. in pursuing this cou rse, necessarily compromised my interest, errectiven css, llI" sinccril y in rcading lhe novel. I callnot dig up my three acre ga rden a h:uspoo nfll l a wcek and rool mysel r lhat r Ol working away on lhe lamJ. Hu i ncit\Jcl mlls! I undertake an lInbrokcn ~ess i on on an ind ust rial lractor. ('olllplIn: n:ó li ng a PO\!I1l . (jn lhe non-seriali/..a bl e sidc. I JUSL havcn ' t Icave IlIl.:ho()sc how UI L'VC Il whcthcr In nUOl:\lI alc l1ly rrojcl.:( by laking. up lha \

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1'11 11 Ill1hrnkl:11 UVen t My Icclure 011 lhe Perm ian extinctions is no t nearly so vulol:rablc . My audicm:c is not short-changed if, upo n their return in Lhe seq lle! , th ey raillo reca ll precisely wha t I said or if I do no mo re than remind I ltl~111 M lJcrtain salient aspects ofthe firs t sessi on . I can . given the substratum oflil1g Ul st ic meaning and a small faith in human mem ory, reconstruct cn ough with po inted reminders to ensure the prese rvaLio n of the whole lect ll re over tW() J iscrete periods. I cann OI begin to imagine how this might be achi eved wi th equal elTectivcness in perfo rmance shor! o f starti ng all over from the lirsl mcasurc. T his seems lo separale performances from lectures despite their sha rillg va rious aspects o f ritua l and formality. Even if one Illight wish to orga nize activities on a sca le o f seriali zabi lity. it seems clear tha t per for mance wi ll come as c10se to the non-serializa ble end as anything.1\ Tbis extreme 110n­ scri a lizability contributes to the ritual nature of performa nce. I',ach ri tual creates its own experiential moods. Indecd, the very point and power o f rit ual may be to establish an d main tai n them. 1\11 ri tuals req uire procedural and exp eriential continuity ami the absence ofprocedural, ex peri­ ential , and external disruption . Rcnce the conditions which m ainlain the ctTectiveness of a ritua l are mood-preserving. Performance integrity encolll­ passes places, times, wo rks, players, a udiences, and other matters beca use these contribute to the foeus of ri tual a ttention a nd thus contribute jointly to mood . Ultimately, to achieve wholeness o r completeness of performance is a functi o n of mood maintenance.

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Performance integrity takes in mo re than wholeness . I\nother dimension exists; nalllely, that involving honesty , genuineness, or even wholesomeness in performance . I have two excuses for this thematic expansion: (a) integr­ ity in ritual co ntexts seems to address more than broad concerns with the co herence of individual actions generally; and (b) the problem 01' integrity raises interesting issues about ageney, causality, skill, accountability. and what performers can take credit fOL Quest ions about agency and credit become sharper given opportunities made available by electronic technology. [ consider in detail the impact of one sllch technological advance. I n so doing, 1 try to show that performanco integrity requires that a performer be full y in a positioll to take credit for the performance, and that, to do so, it is not sufficient that the ap prop riate sounds be causaUy relatcd to the perforlller's musical activities. Rathcr, a speciaJ sort of causal relation is expected, one characterized in part in terms 01' wha t we ta ke the work to be performed to exact fittin gl y from the player. And the fitl ingnes.s of such dcma nds is, in t umo a funct ion o f certai n lradi­ tions of ll1 u~ ic-m ak ing . Pe rfo rm ell1CCS, unlike many goal-directcd activi ties, te nd to be (borrow ing a phrasc) meOnS- le.l'led. i.e., adivitic$ the succcssrul com plcli o rt of wh id l íl re iTI parl uctcrm incd by lhe satis l....t\.:lhll1 or con(.jjl io ns

allachcJ LO CXCl:1I1ioll Hl IlII I I,· II I1: aIlS Ilf C'XCClllioll . Mca ns-h:sll.:d adl "l l ic!!ilt l \ Illca su rcd nol 1l1l': ldy 111 Il' l l lIS or ach ic\ íng spcc ilied cnds bul in Illlllli !H achieving :-;pcc íl it:'d unds tllldcr cc rtain terms oh:onslraint. The accoulllt!lIlil 01' agenb perfo nn ing Il1cílllS-lesterJ activities is thus a function in pI1 , 1 .-jl observing such clmstrai nts. These features 01' means-tcstedncss nccl\l1U' di the more sa Jien t in the face of challenges lo such constra ints. Perf' lt ll HIIII inlegrity in this guise requires thal One act al least under the prcslldll'¡/ constraints. There are at least th ree a feas where genuineness in and of perfo rnl anct: h,l ' a bearing; namel y, those concerning (1) Hi~"o,.ical AUlhenlicily in perfonll ance, (2) Causal S il/ceri!)' ínvol ving the act ual agenLs al work in an ongoin t performance , and (3) Causal Immediacy , or what the working perfo nm:r really con lrib ules lo performance. 1 will no l do more here than to skelcl items ( 1) and (2) which concern the fo ll owi ng: (1) Under Historia d AUlhenlicily wc ask: 15 the performa nce histo ricall y accura le? D oes it respect the performance conven tions of its time? Docs il conform acce ptably or maximall y lo the composer's expectations? To the expeetati ons 0 1' conlempo rary or modem audicnces'? M ust it so con form? For sorne the very ide ntity of a work-in-perfo rmance hinges upon the use or neglect of historical cOll ventions of execution linked to tlle time of composi­ tion . Concerning integd ty, one may coneeivably eleva te the observatio n of aml fidelity to the com poser's manifest wishes a nd the historical conventions of performance into q uasi-mo ral obliga tions. 14 (2) Causal S incerily: W e expect oC lhe agents oC performa nce their ca usa l central ity in tbe ritual. O ne can always ask whether thc alleged perfo rmer is gcnuinely the im mediate cause of the performance. H owever seemingl y gra­ tuitous the demand that él performance be immediatcly brought abollt by l he performcr taking iml1lecl iate credit for it , we are no strangers to fraud and deception . Consider th e phenol1lena 01" playing air-gllitar and lip-syncing. Ignoring cases where vocalists lip-sync lheir own pre-recorded vocals (the colllmon practice in the production of rock videos), air-gllitarists and Li p­ syncers are no t guitarists or vocalists as such . W hen li steners are delibcra te ly duped into believin g that air-guitari sts and lip-syncers are actua ll y mak íng the sounds hea rd then and there, performance in tegrity is viol ated. T his cal! fo r causa l sincerity may be dubbed " the Milli Vanilli rider" in honor of a slllaJl and fo rgcttab1c scandal. J will say no more about it here. Befare considerin g (3) Causal fmmediacy. some com ment on the norl1lal­ ivc tone 01' integrity is appropriate. 1 have no wish to exaggcrate the /Iloral tlavor 01' terms like " integrity," "honesty," "gen uineness," "sinceri ty" and I he like. Still, 1 invoke them at least as moral mctaph ors ror what sec m lo he quasi-mora l responsibilities falling upon and standard s of professio nal virtuc cxpected o f perro rmers qua perfo rmeTs. W hatever subtraclS in lhis con lexl fmm Ihcir hav ing fu ll y mo ral status is somewhal like wha tcver lessens Ihe l1\l rma li w wci¡!,h l \l f rules 01" c\iqud le. Rude ncss is ul1plcasan t. pcrha ps, h Ui

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1\1 twl rüll lo. perrOm1er virtucs tlmong those with high moral standing, (Util­ itarialls Illay sport a more global and inclusive pidure but this just l:fcatcs a ro le rnr lhe functionally equiva lent distinetio n between matters of great ano IIcgligiblc Illoral import.) A ny how, s uch terms like " performance inregrity" ha ve only q ua si-m oral import beca use they d o not apply indi fferen tly to humal1l:on d uct as sUl:h but on ly to s pecia lized professional aeti vi ty, the worst violatio n of which a m oun ls in the moral sp herc to ]j Ule more than ha rmless du p licity . T h ey represent principally appeals to the virt ucs 0 1' excellences dema nded a nd ret:o gnized by lhe m usica l profession, T he speci al pra ise performers seek is d ependent upo n ccrtain skills t ho se pe rfo rmers di splay, T hose ski lls are acq ui red precise1 y to Illcet certam m usical demands, Such skills are the p rime virtues 01' the accom ­ plished piayer. O ne ca n fake s Ul:h skills oro m o re comp1icatcd ly, t<:lk o various short-l:uts, thus obscuring l he real d istanee lh<:lt oth erwise separa tes tho se fully equipped wilh and those deficient in such skills. ' 5 One concern under the rubric of integrity is how we a re to un derstand just what a performe r must properly do in order to lake credi l for a p erformance. The answer lo that turns out to involve perform<:lnce means-testing whi ch rclativizes credit to the resoorces reg<:lrded as 1egitimatc in performance. Ln the professional ethic 01' perform anl:e, w hat co unts as p layi ng someth ingfair­ and-square ullim a tely t UnlS 00 a certai.n ca usal envi ronment sta ndardi zed by traditi ons of musical agency. Were o ur opti o ns si mi larl y traditiona lly circumseribed , nothing much would be at stake . But as technology changes our very conception of music-making, these very tradition s are increasingly under stress and themselves exposed as sustaining inl:reasingly doubtful con­ ceptions 01' accom p1ishment. What are we to m ake of (3), CausalImmediacy? Fraud aside, electronic tech­ nology presents options to performcrs which , from a traditional perspective, comprom ise performanl:e integrity, Sp ecifically. performers m a y, despite assuming an immediatel:ausal rol e in the produl:lIon of sound , lack t he ful1 responsibil ity fo r it we conventional1y expect in per fo rmance. SlIppose th at one ca n offer a perfo rmance 01' a very d ifficlllt work by per­ f'orming something which is very much easier to execute. Can one take credi L ror the more diffil:ult execution? Generally, do we requi.re of any performance that what \Ve hear bears some paradigm causal relation to what the performer causal1y contributes? Let's constd er this case in detail by showing how a real device makes it possible, and what it entails. For simplicity, I will wnfine myself to tite conventional " c\assical" per­ fo rma nce context in vo lving musicians , m usical works, and wo rks in no ta­ lio n. Musical wo rks a re represen ted in score and scores provide m usici ans w ith Qne means 01' acqua in ta nce wi th wo rk s. Cases wbere {l ne becomcs so acq ua intctl by ear can .. 11 be con verted into cases whe re on~ \ acq ua in lancc

wi th the work is Il1cJiall!d hy a scorc . Must a pla ye r. p lanni ng 1(> pe rl"orm sume work. J irccll y CX\!c utc the pitchcs and rhylhms orlhe work as prescribed in sco re o r o ther conventions 01' notation? Does a performance of that work 1'equire exel:ltting it as written within conventional margins for error and discretionary alteration? Responding to a rhelorieal , " Well , how else can it be d one!, " 1consider a vi rtual devil:e related to the ring mod ulator, a commo n input-ou tput device in sound generation, w hich comp1icates performance credi t considera bl y, 1\ very simple ring mod ulator has an internal o scillalor set at él determinate freque llcy. T he o ut p ut o f the ring mod ulato r by ilsel f is the output of its o scilla tor, e,g" a pitch with frequenq 1000H z. With an add ed in p ut, the ring müdlllato r gi ves as output twa frequencies which are simple functio ns 01' the o scill ator freq u.ency and the inp ut frequency from the pIayer, e.g" the sum 01' the two [requenl:ies (the "sum tone" or "upper sideban d") and the di ffe rence between them (l he "diffe1'ence tone" 01' "lo\Vcr sideband " ). So, if the osc ill ­ ator is set at 1000Hz amI (lile inputs a freq uenl:y at 1 100 Hz into the ring mod ulator, it Olltp utS lwo freq uencies, the SLlm tone a l 2 100Hz a nd the difference tone at 100Hz, To simpli fy the discussion , I wi11 eo nside r only ring modulat ors tha t h av e as ou tput a single sideband, u.pper or lo wer it matters not which , (Such restricted ring modulators are calledji'equ<.'l1cy .I'hifier.l'.)' () Suppose a p layer uses a conventionally tuned instrument (e ,g" a vio1in 01' g uitar) to playa certain \York. 11' the player wants a so unding of that wo rk as output, but feeds the input con ven tionall y a~ scored thro ugh [he ring modulator (set at anythi.ng other than OHz), the pl aye r' s outpu l will fa il to sound anything like the work . Wby? If t he player in p llts p itches prescribed literally in the work's score, the ring mod ulator witl! lower sidt:band o utpllt takes each p itch and sllbtracts 1000Hz from it. T o sound the work p roperly through the ring modulator, the pl<:lyer must input into the ring modulator a sequence 01' pitches unrelated harl11ol1icallv to the work 's score but related l11({them({tically, e,g., by lhe sllbtraction function characteristic 01' a ring modulator designcd to output difference tones. What the playeT actually sounds on the i..nstrument to get a performance of the work is not that work as sco red ., bu i that work as scored plus the ring modlllator' s oscillation fre­ quency, So, for each nota ted pitch 11 , the player must actually execute pitchcs o f freq ueney in order that the d esired work emerge as output. C a ll th is revised pi tch seq uence when written out the "shiftcd score. " 11' the pl a yer plays from the shifteu score without the ring modulator, the output so und is completely unlike the desired \York . As input through the ring m od ulator, pl aying from the shifted score provides for an output sounding j ust Jike the desired work. 17 But the ring modula tor's intern a l oscillato1' can be set at any one of an indellll i1e !lumber o f frcq ucllcies. Because there are a n inJefini le n umber 01' rrcq uc n.:il.:.'i a valla b le to the ri ng m()d ululO r , there a re a n ind eJl nite ntLm bcr M ~ hi rt cd ~corés M Ihe ~am c W~ll k whidl, whcn pla yed as in p ut illto a ri ng

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1IlIllIIlI;¡(¡,r 'id 011 ji Vl\I\: lt II C\ I'H:IICy, will YI\! kl an Oll lp lll :,olllldln g as 111(: dcs il\;d wmk SOllIl US. SU l:h shil"tcd seo r(!s , a ll 01' IIK'm distim:t , will call ror Ji sti nc t paltcrns 01" \!xc\.:ulilln and so will prescnt va rying orders of d imc ult y ror a given p layer. Sume will require virtuosic talents, others mere profkiency. F o r exa mple, él ri ng modulator using a subtraction function and yiclding only difference lonéS requires that l he player actually execute pitehes of a higber frequency Ihan those notated in lhe original seore . O n some inst ruments, playing high er noles ¡s, ror a number of physieal reaso ns, more dema nding tha n playing in lowcr positio ns or rcgistt:rs. One ean also reverse lhe o rder of difficulty by play ing in a low position a work origin a lly set in high positions th ro ug h a rin g nwdu lato r with a n additio n fu netion which prod uces only sum tones . In principie, for the so unding of any wo rk. there exists a shifted score the exeeution 01' wh ieh fa lls wi thin the profieiency of an y pI ayer. Depending o n Ihe ring m od ulator, then , an y player at
li t ~ J..i ll lll """(lII!!III IV ( )nc 1I111~;1 ullllw Iha l 1¡l klll , 1111\' gill, iI 1I1 , IIIl'I di II llk ;111 acc idc nl o!" hinh, ólllJ 110 o lle ca n bep. nld gl~ Ilflici óllly Iho se w lro lilld casy wha t ~l lh e rs labm {) ver. Nalural 1 ~l cilily may a llll \V iII vary. Hu i , pnlfcssill ll ally , th ose ::; hort o n raeility cannot t:Ol1lpensatc, so lo spea k. !"(jr thcir limitatiQns with a machine. Nor should we be moved by how hard ofle might be expecteu to work.. Jt 's not that "vi rt uosic" presagcs precisely él determ inate species of dirticulty , for tba t term usua lly reflccts, at best , onl y the act ual distribution of abilities which may, as a group, be improved lhrough specia lized trai ning, t hus ren de ring them more commonplace a nd even the rule. Just as yesle rday's run ners for whom the four minute mile \Vas simply ineon ce ivable wo uld faU far behind today 's typ­ ical run ners, so yeste rday's flash y pl ayers mig ht beco m e today's strugglcrs. Nor can we appeal to what a composer might have tho ught any pI a yer of Ihe composer's work was expected to have suffered in the exec ution. A composer may indeed think a work difficult to execute, and even write it in tending su ch d ifficulty to impose itself. But, s urel y. lhe co mposer must rest his judgment on a eoneeption of technical excelJence, typical for the time, which may, in faet , be superseded. A nyway, no one eonceivably fail s to respect the composer's work by failing in fact ro ha ve dinkulty jlJ playing it. No musical wo rk deliberalel y and exclusi vely designed as a technical killer is scareely wo rth anyone's musical attention simply beca use an yone can eoncoct such works. After all , ifyou want to ruin an y pI ayer (or ultimately a ll pl ayers), tbere e xists a Metronome settin g for scale passages, say, whieh exceeds tha t player's (or all human players') physica l eapacities. Big dea\. The scores 01' works and th e properties 01' instruments with their demon ­ stra ble limits and difficulLies allow one to determine what any given work is min ima lly likely to exact from players. There is no mys tery in ranking reper­ toi re from elementary through to ad va nced , whatever quibbling tbere migh t be about borderline cases . These rankings , h owever, are not me rely points on a g raded scale akin to degrees oftemperature_Th ey laeitly define norms of professional aeeomplishment. Ceteris paribus. those who perform the m o re difficu lt works are the more accomplished players, and tha t position tradi­ tio nalJy is one that is approprialcly earned by means-testin g _T hllS, the output. the res ult. the sound, is not a ll that tradilionall y matters in performa nce. F or a player lO take proper credit for a performance, the perform ance mu st display the virtues of skil/ and cxpertise exacted by various works whieh professionally enable players to perform what lhey perform. In this sen se, having performance integrity is being in a posilion properl y to take full credit for what one has done under terms of appropriate ageney. Ifresults were all that mattered . n o one co uld fault those who customized their ring modula tor to exact the easiest input. Indeed , anyone wh o willi ngly chose a m o re diffic ult course wo uld secm slubborn and appear to ado pt the uneonvi ncing ai r o f a bO
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1":1I,;lIil.lII VC r ing llllll..lu la ltw s(;((in g:s. I mJceJ , u ne could env isaL\é compclitions wll .:rc lhe ¡;Ontc!jlants au o pled increasingly nasty ring modu lalor settings ror originally simple pieces. After all, ifthe garne is to sufter yet survive, lhen lhe winner m ust sufTe r the most by surviving the worst technieal t rials. But this masochism isn 't music even if it might not be completely crazy. Well then, what exactly is amiss about Llsing ring modula lor substitu lions? W hy dnes perfo rmance integrity ofany conventional work favo r the stra ight player, whom we can defi ne as us ing lhe Nu/l ring mod ulator (one the oscil lator 01' which is set to OHz)? A nswer: using a ring /Ilodulalor-enhanced nJnl'enúona/ inl'lmlnenl lO per/órm a work does nol amoulll lu per!orrning ¡he \t 'ork ilsel! huI ( merely) lO heing causal/y imp/ic(ffed in SOl/lid seq/lences as o{ I/¡e \Vlir/.; . To parry charges 01' sh a rnelcss sophi slry, I must elaborate, The ring modula LOr, t ho ugh realiza ble as a p hysiea l device, is really an I/h.l'lracl./únclion over pi/c/¡. W rite any seq uence 01' literal pitehes you li ke in SL"ore and you can, in princi pie, define él ring mo dulator wh ich takes lh is pitcb scqucnce (whatever it is) as i.np ut and Olltputs the pitch sequenec heard as O Callada. Thus any nolaled pitch sequence can, with its suitable ring modu­ latof. represent any other pitch sequence such that inp utting the former is surficient for olltplltting the latter. Pec uliarly, these scores di recl the player to prod uce ccrtain precise pitches, whatever they li lerally are of (e.g., the pitehes 01' Ru/e Bri/anl1ia), as wOllld be done any time, with the odd assurance that what will emerge is O Canada. llave I performed O Canada by pl aying Rule Britallnia? S urely, we want distinctions for " performing" here. I've perhaps suunded O Canada , but 1 can ' t have p er/iJrmed anytrung but Rule Brilal1nia. Never mind what yo u hear out the end. H ad you snipped the cable eOl1oecting me to the ring modulator, Rule Brilallllia wou ld have come through loud a nd c1ear. Nor would 1 deny having pl aced my fingers on just those stops l'd otherwise bave pressed weré I lo have had a Rule Brilanl1ia request from lhe Ooor. Ilcre 's a more gra phic case for denying full causal credit for the output. ['m a notorious Sunday afternoon dabbler. Despite months 01' practice, all ¡'ve cver been able to get my fi ngers to conform to on a conventional guitar is a monoph onic versi o n 01' T winkle, Tlllinkle Lillle Slar. A pareel arrives L'ontaining a mysterious deviee. Later I lea rn it's a very sophistieated ring modulator. Set on lhe device is a dial with various settings named "J . ))owland: F antasy in G (Renaissance Lute)," "J. S. Bacb: Chaconne in O min or (Baroqlle Yiolin)," "S. L. Weiss: Passacaglia in D (Ba roque Lute)," " B. Britten: Nocturna l Op.70 (Guitar)," among other names of wonderfully difficlllt works. The enclosed instructions read : (a) Clip the device around the soundhole, (b) Set the dial at one of the na mes, (c) Play TlVinkle. TlI'ink/e. Obed ienLl y, 1 set the d ial to the Bach and, lo, as 1 go through the relcvan t T winkle, T wink/e moti ons the room reso unds with the O m in or C haconnc. llave I per lormed lhe <¡o lo vio lí n masterpiece? Absolutcly not. Why not? Simply, bccausc 1 ralll/ol pla y it. I ca n' t play lhe violín. Am\.. anyway . cvcn ir

I corrld, rw Ilci ther L1U! :.ki ll rHI! lIJe lraiuiu!'" lhe laknl uor l h~ CXPl' rliSl~ lór slIch a virluosic challengt. Try !"aullirrg lhe wisdulll in: No unc can d o whal he cannot do. Ifthe sound my activity actllally rcsults in counls as a performance ofthe Ch aconne, it must do so purely on grounds 01' the rcsults of that activity. B ut if t his work-sounding outp ut ca usa 11 y linked to the acl ivi ties o f lhe player is sufficient ror that player having perforllled tha l work , lhen a ny in pu t ca n so count in principIe, so long as one ca n define a function wh ich will get o nc frol11 o ne's immediate playing activity to the desi retl wo rk-so llllding outpllt. C onsider that the ly pieal pl ayer input for a give n work (e,g.. the no rm al ha nd movell1ents on a co nventionall y tuned instrumen l in slanda rd co ndilions 01' execution) constitutes a perfo rmance function ror that work. Since no oll e ever req lI ired o fficially lhat there be one and onl y one perrormancl!-fUndinn (or kind red ramily offunctions), then the door is open ror the player lo define an y fllilc tio n whatever. B ut lhis, o ne protests, is absurd, as blatantly abs urcl as s upposing I have perfo m led the Bach simply by "playi ng" a recordjng 01' Pinchas Zuckerrna n's C haconne on a playback device. What of this? Ha d Z uckerma n c1ippcd on lhe device and followed lhe instrllctíons I'aithfully woukl he then have perro m led the Bach? Despite his proven abiü ty to do so, on this occasion we havc no more reason to a ttribute this so und ing 01' the C haconne to him than lo me. Our fa ilure to a ppeal lo lack oí' a bi lity lhus implies th aL, al tho ugh such él laek may be suffic ienL to withhold att ribulions of accomplishmen l, it cannol be necessa ry. W hy uekerman has no cl aim here is because he has not done th e right things, perfonned lhe right action s-at leasl as tradition requires. Thi s focu:> upon what musicians actually do ra ther th an what we listeners actually hea r is a theme needing elaboration. l~ The ring modlllator case indicates th a t altriblltions of ca usal respo llsibil il in and contribution to performance are not determinable mereLy by a\l c ndi ng to acoustic res ulLs . Thus ditTcrences in performance responsibi lily earll lOl he decided just by differences in acoustic output. W e can expose lhe ill:lpp rl'pri­ atencss 01' attributing a virtuosic performance to the Twin kle-Tw ir lklcl itl ;) comparative Twin Earth case.l~ Earth Player Earlh uses a g uitar on whieh he executes a sequen¡;c \Ir ph y,>i,·;¡J movemcnts , i.e., left-hand fmgcrs moved in set patterns on :r li rW~' 1 ¡'Illl rd . right-hand nn gers moved thus-and-so on the strings. An idcntkal '1wiril '¡ltl l! player Twin executes an identical movement seque nce on a moJel'u l:11 dlll'll ca te guitar. T he aurall y accessible Earth o ut put is 01' llw a nlh\:11l () ( ',I/It/'/1/ on TwinEarth it is the virtuosic dazzler Carnil'lI l o/ Vel1 ict' V/mi//I"'" by Francisco Ta rrega. Despite ou tpul di fTc ren ces, Ean/¡ and 7'1I 'ill h¡lv\ d¡ 'il\" eXélctly the same things. They have pcrformcd itlcnlic..ll scq lJenCC\ 01 ,J ~ 111111 in having !lloved t heir ha nd~ itl lJl ralil:lli vdy indisl inguislJ ablc ¡¡bhr!lrl', Ir j usI sol Jarpcn:> IlJal Lhc iJlp lll d r'll l::. rC:' 1I 11 rc li ilbly in dillt'l clI l 'HltIHI I·.

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Now. we \Vo uJü have to explain tbese differences, but we could do so by hypolhcsi/.ing that Earth amI T wincarth differ in their causal environments. We can ues<.:ribe these differences superficially by mapping different func­ 1I0l1S onto the fcatured set 01' mo ve;:ments, i.e.. we make ex plici t the patterns in Ih e ro rm of1ow-1evcl causall aws, viz., (1) Earth Movement Sequenee type res ulLs in O Canada sound type; (2) Twin Earlh Movement Sequenee type n:slllts in Cal'l1ivalol Ven ice sound type. To underwrite such regularities we wuuld postulate a theoretical causal mechanism. One theOTctica l model trea ts 111l: world s as (lthe (ex hypothesi ind isli nguishable) freq uencies resu lting dir· cclly rrom lhe respeclive and indisli nguisha ble movement seq llenees are fl:u through Rin g Modulators. O llr theory may further spccify these virtual ltIoulIlalors , ring modulator· Ea/'th and lhe ring 1110 dlllalor- T winEarth. lo be idcntil'al in kind but to di ffer in their internal states. Th us we hypothesize dcc pcr ca usal reglllarities between ri ng mod ulator sta les and their effect lI pon input and output frequenóes. Whatever the status of the theoretical ring l11odlllators, we assume that playe rs can no more inf1uence the internal slales 01' such ring l11odu lators any more than they can the composition of Ihl~ atmosph ere. Although the actions of Ea/'lh élnd T win yield diffel'ent aural res ults, beca use Ihc players are twins executing icleotical mo vemen t seq uences. we cannot aUribute to the one greater causal cred.it and relatedly greater virtuosity ar musical talent lhan the other assumin g, 01' course. that all other thi ngs are cqua\. Difference in output does not necessarily en lai l differential musical csponsibility. creditworthiness, or skil\. By analogy , just as Kantians shou ld argue that twins acting from the sarne Illolive in identical circumstances must be equally praiseworthy or blamc­ wurthy , whatever the actual result, so we cannot credit player Earth wilh being morc musical or virtuosic than pI ayer TIVin. Let them swap places leaving all hardware whcre it is and each swaps virtuosity too. Since you cannot swap la lent the way you can swap an instrument, clearly the talent in this case (Ii kc Ih e moral virtue in the other) is not a function of results alone. Because lisleners cannot decide differential causal credit mercly on the basis 01' aural rCSlIlts, listcners are not cntítled to judge on that basis alone who has per­ rormed what. 20 I lowcvcr thc Twin Earth case strains credibil ity. it seeps through to lirc wlH.:nc ver we <.:onsider recorded perform ances. Wha lever \vc hear docs not co unt hy itself as sut'lkient to judge the player's real role an d hcnce true mcrit. At Illost we can judge that the piayer is as il creditworthy. Why? Beca use su mc players Ill ay not be able (i .c., may lack the skill) in real-time and real-Ji fe lo c"{ccutc mo re than one ITI casure at a time. Com pare stage-acli ng with nll)vie-acti ng. T hc sLugc-actor canno t rely on lite practice 01' "takes" bu t mus l pel türlll clln tin uously lhro ughü ut. A mov ie-actor with a terri hle mcmory tile!,!s h:lh:d dangl.!r on Ihe slage. I' or lhe Icchnically ddicil.!nt 111\1),iciun , Iltc lecnrllil\l! <¡ludio m,e lile Iilm sl\lui p (rcad "ríO!! Il HIII II IIIICd'(:J\vin.llllllcnl")

compensa tes fully, so slIch a player muy have a stll nn ing n.:cordin g can;c l ronically. with recordings we can ' t even assume there is u player at all . T hc sound seq uence may bc entirel y lhe prodllct 01' a sou nd cngineer splicing bits of synthesized sound together using a co mputer sequcncer. No traincd instrumcntal hand need ever in truJe. So, strictl y. lccord ings force upo n us a comorted conditional: If there actually is a player at al1, then that player is as if creditworthy of the result. Illl~ any such " bi t" playcr ever actuaJly performed any work if they have never aclually played anytlling non-stop in its entircty? Under ancient con­ ventions, I see no reason for sayin g they have. But these vcry conventions are just lh al- mere convcntions. Can't we j ust reject thcrn? If \Ve do , wh at we respect in music becomes crispl y c1ear. The TwinEa rth case underJines the relevance 01' lhe causal environrnel1 l. a fado r which, unJer common conventions, affects our evalua tion not on ly 01' the player but ofthe pe rfo rmance as wel!. Despite the di fTerent audible results emerging on Earth al1(l Twin Earth, what the players immediately did was causally and thus evaluativel y identical. Presumably, thc players know where they stand. Each is fully awa re of the acti on seq uence undertaken and neither assumes with out qualification that perfo rmances are supervenicnt merely upon physical mo vements. The foll owing is true only under an assumption of a common causal context: 1f indistinguishablt:: twins cause identical tokens of a movement sequence type on lwin instrumcnts, then the twi n musici ans orrcr tokens of identical per­ formance types. 21 We need no\ imagine player surprise in our exal11ple. Each place exh ibits causal regularities wh ich are easily inductively grasped . One simpl y learns that whal one does in one place leads to different results from doi ng exactly the same thing in another. Compari ng Earth and Twin Earth , all we C
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l'v:lIl1a tl:d LI ~ :, ~oll :. lil' phCIIOnll:lla whieh are as ir callseu hy playcrs lInder l 'e l taill cllnJitions 01' pafo nnHllce. Normally, phenomenal and agcnt per­ 1011l1a IICI.:S are direetly and 1I 11i rormly linked . In sueh a case, judgmcn ts abollt I he phclIolllenal performance are acceptably transfe rable to c\aims abollt a!!cnl pcrronnance. T h(; T win Eu rth story reveals the split by upsetling what we ta ke for grantcd. Ir \Ve al low lhat what the player act ually does in each case (viz., lo effcct 1111l VC Il H:111 scqucnces) constitutes the agel1t performance, then, whatevcr t he Ilúnomenal pcrlomlance. lhe playe rs are causally (and thus profess ionally) 011 \l puro In agen t terms , lhe pl ayers' perform a nces are indi:;tingllishable. If, all th ings bci ng equal , causal pl2 Thi s c1early acknow­ Icdgtls the valuo p!aced upon skill ranking, a valuc which has become intrin sic tD (,lur tradition or music-m a ki ng. COl1ventio ns a re challenged a nd pass, however, and with them the tradi­ liolls that secm for a time to have made them im m utable. One ca n easily ill1agi ne Ihe d h¡appea rance o f th is very tradition of causal ranking, Wilhi n it, howcvcr, is t1rmly embedded an emphasis lIpon the immed iate un ass isLed ca usal pri m acy of the performe r, and it is that primacy which lies at the COTe Ir pc rf\) rmance integrity in a tradi tion that spa ns mueh of recorded hi slory. kldl y cnough, em phasizing im med ial e ca usa.l essentials dim inishcs Ihe liignilictlncc 01' the phcn o menal side, the princi pa l province of lhc Ii slener. Obvinusly. we ca nnot dl!c\a re un impo rta nt lhe rcsu lts hetl rd . B ut we can dallll lh a l Ihe in tegri ly (qlla un ity or respccl rll lncss lo histo ry, say) DI' lh\! 11( 1

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Notes For example, sce .Jcrrold Levinson , "W hat A Musical Work Is," Jo ul'I1al oj'Philo­ I'Ophy 77 ( 1980): 5-· 28. 2 1 assumc a l1()( ion or "wo rk " b ,, ~cd 0 0 standard paradigms. Dowland 's L achrimac P al'an ancl Mozart 's J upilcr Symphony are bolh works ir a ny is. Works are marked by Iheir own integril y whi<.:h indudes a determinate serial order and a point of d osure, amo ng olhcrs . 3 R ltapsody in 8 1//e (Warner Brothers: Holl ywood, 1(45), Director: Irving Rapper. Os<.:ar Levanl pla yed piano. The Ok/af¡oma K id (Wa rne r Brolhers: Holl ywood , 1( 39). /1 ire<.:tor: Lloyd Bacon , offcrs a rougher. m ore channi ng sequence_The Kili (James Cagney) inlerrupts his rendition of "1 Don't Want to Play in Y our Yarel" by flallening a rudely intcrfering heavy, al1ll then carries o n, without josing lhe spirit. 4 See M ichacl Nyman , Experimen/al J'vfusil' (New York: Schirmer. 1981). pp. 140 · 142. 5 Su ppose a wo rk requires an ensemble 01' twelve players. Suppose the statling is co nLin ually rotated in perfor mance by one player at a time. Would this be 1css discon<.:erting lhan rOlation in the solo <.:ase') 6 1 believe thatjúff pcrformances or perrorrnan<.:es proper do call upon actual third­ pa rty listcners becau sc performa nce shares a <.:ommunicative function with speech. T hough onc <.:éln lalk lo onese)f or to an imaginary listener and sl,ill be talking, what '> missing in both cases is the aet of imparting something- meaning 01' em()lion, il malters nol which--and that ac! sCems needed to make elemental sense o ul 01" lal king proper. So it is, I would slress. with pcrformance. 7 e r. Pelcr Kivy, M usic Alone (Co rncll Uni versi ty Press, 1990), p. tI: "Onc eallnot 'glancc a way' fm m él Ilayeln string quartet ano then return lo fln d il waiting.... " 8 R . A. Sharpe, "T ype, Tokcn , Intcrprelati on. ano Performance," M índ (1979) S8: 43 7 440: p. 438. Sce also R . A. Sharpe, C on/ernpo/'{//'y Ae.l'/helícs (New York: St. Martin's P rcss, 1983). 9 T he proponcnls 01' historica lly authcntic pcrformance mi ght disagrcc. Enormous errort has been expended on articulaling some of these norms. See, rOl' in slan<.:e. thcse <.:las~i c-s 01' reconstruc\ion: Am o lel Dollllctsch . Tltc In/erfJ/'e/o/ion oI/he /vI l/sic 0//11(' X VII/h (J1U1 X VIII/h ('en/II/'i<,s R<'l'c(/I¡'(I h)' ('O/l/elll¡JII/'(//' V ¡:'\'id <' /I(,(,

(London: Novello and Cu ., 194(1): T hurslV n ))arl , nI(' /¡1I<'I'I'n ' /ct/írJ/I II( M lIsic (Lo ndon: I lul<.:hinson , 1( 54); and Robcrl l)ollÍn g lOl1 . " h(' /¡t1I'/",r('/(I/ílll/ o( rilrly M I/sÍ/' (1 ,Olldon: I,' aher, 1')(' .' ) . 10 Rc lat ed ¡;rili <.:isllIs are devclored hy Randall Di[1crt . "Ty pl' ~ ;111<1 1" l,.clI s: A Repl)' to Shil rpc," M llld S'} (t 9S01 : 'ik7 'i H~ . :111<1 St\'l'lll"n I) il v i \'~, " 1 he O III P1t l¡.!)' nI' MlI si";rI W (\r k~ nlld t \le A IIII\('II I i ~ it v ,,1 t 111.'11 PI.' II, 1I1l " 1I\"~· -."' NWII ~.., ( Il)l) 1): '- 1 ·'11 I I 1I

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Id llll'¡j Ihl'I IlC-'. ,~'t,; fel fo ld 1.l:v illsoll alió Philip Alperso n. "W hat is a Telll­ JlOII II A l!" :' A!idl1'(',\'1 S II/dic'\" , X VI (1991). Note, even a work which ca lis for seeming d l~r llplil) 11 ohcy~ 1ilual nlllTlIS which are vio l:t teó if one upsets the performance by il ',llIlI ill g Ih c ~·.¡Jllo " disrupt. " l ' I'I¡¡, ('Ollflel'lioll has IOllg-~ta nding rOOl!;. Thus Thomas Ma ce, in ¡\I!u.\'it'k ',\' M OIUI­ 11/1'1/1 (1 (,7(,), is "ready 10 Prove by Oomollstration (to an y Person intelligi ble) T hat M ll siek is ;¡ (,allguuge, and has its Signilications. as Wo rds have". " (p. 11). Hdwa rd C Il I1 C in TI/( , C m/fllI,I'er,I' VoicC' ( lI nivcrsi ty 0 1' C alifo rn ia Prcss, 1974) :1IJ¡'ph:1 "pirtul'l:' "l' IlIusic as a form 01' uttera nce to be compan::d anó cont rasted wilh Ihe wrh:d IIll e r:lllces 01' ()ru inary speech" (p, 160). And Thomas Ca rson Mili k ~kvc l,)ps óJlI cla horate spllech-act model 01' pe rformance involving both :t sse rri¡¡1I and qLl 4)I ¡¡ ti ()l1 ~)flllUsica l w(l rks in "T he Phil osophy of Piano Pl a ying: l~c lh:l'Ii o ns o n the Co neept 01' Pe rformance." P hilosophy amI P /¡ enIl1l1ello[ogiml /(",\"'(//'(1/41 (1981): 2<)l)- :124, F()r a sustaincó cr itiq ue 01' lhe ling uis tic m oóel 01' IlIlIsie:!1 llIeuning scc Stephcn Davies, }yfusical IHeaning (/nd Expre.l'sio/l (Cornell , IlIi vc l'sit y Prcs~, I'o rtheo ming¡, espeeiall y chap ter l. I 1 O llt' I:IH lld , of eourse, mul1 ip ly exampks, C onsider poetry readings and dra ma per­ I,'rlll u/H;cs. Thesc seem far less scrial iza ble than lectures tho ugh one can en visa ge aU:CJ1lahle deli ve ry discontinuities between various fornlal :;ections. Presl1ma bly uo olle ddivereó the enti re Iliad at a sitting, anó vc ry long óramatiza tions are I:'lllllllonly bro ken into di se rcte bits particularly on television and in film , I I .lc rwld Levinsoll , "Wha t A M usical W ork Is," Jo urnal (¿(' Philo'\"op17y (1980), incorporatcs a \Vork 's historical co ntext into its very identi ty. F or mo re specilic disL'nssion of the return in performance to hi storically ori ginal in stru mcntation alld lechniql1e, see Stephen D avies. " Au thenticity in Mus ical Pe rformance," Bril­ ish .I(}/Il'11l1lllfAC's/ltelic,\' 27 (1987): 39- 50; Sta n Goólovitch, " A uthentic Perform­ allce." ,'v/oni.l'1 7 1 (1988): 258- 77; Peter Kivy, " O n th eConcept ofthe' lIis toricall y i\lIlhcntic' Performance," Monis/71 (1988): 278-91; Lyd iaGoehr, " Bei ng T rue to Ihe Work:' .Iournal r1·Ae.I'lheúc.l' al1d Arl Crilicism 47 (1989): 55 67; and Je rrold Levinson , Music, A,." & Me/(fl,hysics (Cornell U niversity Press. 1990), chapter 16. 1', M y account óraws upon Plato's insight about the bond between arelé and lec/1I11: and llpon Alasdair Maclnty re 's treatment of virtues anó their relati o n to " go ods internal to practiees" and traóitiollS in Afier VirlUe, 2nd eóition ( U niversity 01' Not n; Dame Press, 1984), especiaJly chapter 15. 1explore "professional" virtl1es and 1ntd ilions of music-making in "M usie Pe rformance á nd the Tools of the Trade," ll '.I'I/1/.w (1990): :121 - 39, and " Mak ing Music the Hard Way" (in R . Roblinled .], 1,,'.1'//(',\' il/ Ihe Pel:fárming Ar/.\' lfortheo mingJ ¡, lit 1"01' further information see Wa yn e Baternan , fl//ruduClio/1 l o Compul er AJ//sic ( New York: J, Wi ley. 1980), pp. 179 180. No te. as Bateman advises, " freque ncy shirrin ¡! is raóically diffcrc nt th an ~illlple Iransposition " (p, 180) beca use ofeffects IIpon the ()vertone series. See also Pete r Ma nning, Elecl/'ol1ic (/1/(1 Compu/er M usic (Oxford University Prcs;;, 1985), pp. 61 - 63, Basie ring modulators are ca sy to huild . i\lthough no w old-I~lshioned. Craig i\nderton , Elec/ronic Projec/sfár M usi­ ,.i,III,I' (Saratoga: Guitar Player Publicat ions, 1976), remains ext remely instructivc , SC\! pp , <J9 104, Slc phcll Davics has raiscó a pertinent tcchnicality. Some frequcnci es requircd a s ' '' pUI hy a ring Illodulator to ensure Cln o utput of the sounds 01' the desired work lIla y no l corrcspond to the freq ucncies o f any con ventio na l concert-sta nd,lró PII('hcs, So, lo wmpensale, Ihe pla ye r Illa y huve to in put rrequencies whi ch, fmm Ihe CO J\ccrl sta ndard , are terribl y " ()u t ol' tlllle.'· W iLh nxw piteh in Sl rtllllen ls likl.' pia lll)H. l his Illa y sim p ly be illlpossible unless o ne pla ys wit h a IlI lI ill,lt wre ll c h. W ith va liah le pildl illslrtllllel\ ls li"c vi\1 lins, il is pc rlcclly possi h ll: 1'0 n:p r('S('1I1 ''¡ 'lI1 (JI' 11

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pil d 1 "l'qll ~' I" Il" ,1\' 111 , rI, 'I~ 111 11 1(' '.llIlt r ll "C sueh that any t\Vo pla ye rs cause el performance of that work only if they exeeute that Ill ove menl set within acee pta blc bo unds oferror. (1 ignore cases where playe rs m"k e diffcrent mista kes.) 22 Q uotcó in .1oseph Muehlis, Inlrodl1cliol1 lO COlllcmporury Music (New York: W , W . Norton , 19(1). p. 352, 2:\ T hanks lo Jo h n i\ , Bakcr, Stcphen Davies, John lI eintz, an d the anonymous revi ewers 1'01' thisj o urnal for helpful comments anó fo r making interesting troubl e where trouble \Vas necóed ,

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