I N T R O D U C T I O N
Patrycja Kujawska is a Polish performer and violinist. Patrycja studied at Academy of Music in Gdansk, Poland, and worked extensively with physical theatre Dada von Bzdylow, City Theatre in Gdynia and Non-Cabaret in Baltic Sea Cultural Centre, before moving to the UK in 2005. Since 2008, she has worked with international touring theatre company Kneehigh on numerous shows, including Don John, Midnight’s Pumpkin, Tristan and Yseult, the critically acclaimed The Red Shoes, and The Wild Bride, which toured the USA, Australia and New Zealand. She currently lives in Bristol. In this interview, Patrycja discusses her upbringing and training in Poland, mistrust in religion, and miraculous moments on stage.
L O N G - T E R M T R A N S F O R M A T I V E P R A C T I C E
JW: Can you please describe the history of your experience with transformative or spiritual practice?
PK: In terms of spirituality and art, the book called The Artist Way by Julia Cameron advocates being prolific, taking care of quantity of work, and letting others judge it. How I understand it is that we should just work, explore, play around, be curious and do our best and stop self-judging the effects. I find that a useful perspective.
Going back…as you know I come from Poland; Catholic country. I was baptized, had First Communion, Confirmation. At one point in my teenage years I became more and more involved in a Christian movement, I was going to lots of gatherings, holidays organized by church, I was dedicated student of a Bible, and I was praying the prayers my grandma had taught me. I carved my own wooden cross, and hung it on my chest. I guess maybe because I grew up as an only child I was longing to belong to some sort of group. Be a part of something. I was devoted, almost fanatic. The Ten Commandments seemed like a perfect map, a given answer. I thought everyone has to learn to live a life with the ever-present sense of guilt and pray for forgiveness for all the horrible sins.
Then over years I met lots of fascinating individuals from different disciplines: artists, lawyers, doctors, people working for establishment and media. I broaden my horizons and no longer felt a need to belong to any organization, to support my thinking by any ideology. I witnessed more damage religion have done in my country and people I love, than good it had done. I grew somewhat hostile towards all the Church business the more it put its almighty foot into the world of politics and media, when mostly men dare to decide about such a fragile subjects like sexuality or abortion. By the time I was adult, whenever I participated in Holy Mass (mostly weddings or funerals) I was appalled by the incompetence of priests who in the name of Jesus dared to preach from altars and shamelessly manipulate people's minds.
The only thing I miss from those years of belonging to this community is the easy access to forgiveness. Whatever your sin was, you could go to church to confess it, pray 10 times Santa Maria and the burden from your shoulders miraculously disappeared...Bliss... But I have chosen a much harder way of existence, when I have to decide what's right or wrong, and I have to deal how to deal with guilt.
I presume I'm slightly scarred by polish reality. It's not only religion but all the 2nd World War and Communism’s rather bleak past. But that said I don't feel any regret or resentment that I grew up that way, it is part of who I am now, after all. It left me with no need to belong to any spiritual group.
Having said that, and this might seem like a contradiction, I do enjoy practicing yoga these days. I find it useful before the show, to ground my sometimes-fizzy energy and lack of focus. I like doing it on my own, and in a group, when someone leads me through the poses. It's ever so beautiful, when the entire group tries to find one communal breath; so basic too. It reminds me the joy of playing in orchestra in Academy of Music, when 20 or 30 instrumentalists put collective effort into building a wall of sound.
While we are on the subject of music; it is a gigantic part of my life and truly a transformative practice. I've spent 17 years with my violin within walls of different schools, thousands of hours in solitude immersed in the essence of The Sound; a very much artistic process… very meditative. I've been through it all with this instrument, love and hate. Yet again, within organizations (schools) I experienced more a feeling of failure and underachievement (often not related to exam results, which were mostly good); just a constant struggle to achieve...to be as close to perfection as one can be. Only after I finished schools, I left for some time classical music, feeling slightly raped by it all and fearfully I allowed myself to use my technique to improvise, to express myself, to play in ugly way, even dared to compose. In Dada von Bzdulow (theatre group I worked with back in Gdansk) and then in Vincent Dance Theatre in UK, I was encouraged to explore moving and playing at the same time, sometimes resulting in clever, sometimes in deliciously ridiculous ways, breaking a couple of bows, etc. Now I can tell that I treat violin as part of my body. I'm keen to use this instrument to communicate passion, anger, joy and so on, just like actor uses his text.
After years of this military school music practice and persistence, I allow myself not to get bonded or devoted to any of practices. I know I'm inclined to be impatient or occasionally simply bored and I like to entertain myself with changes. Gym! I love it, for the simplicity of it! I think I told you that I'm slightly addicted to being physical; to pump my heart, to sweat. Also, and more importantly, to keep demons at bay. There aren't many fabulously cathartic exercises like running on treadmill for me, when I find the perfect tempo and my breath settles to it, and spinning brain can switch off. I like a feeling of being physically able and fit and strong in order to survive on stage. I'm not good in routine, I like changes, one day I run, and then I do yoga. And another day I do sweet fuck all and happily drink a bottle of wine. It’s all about balance for me, I'm Libra--but that's a joke I don't buy into astrology.
The body is a house for a soul. As I get older I know I have to be kinder to it. Strangely energy level wise I feel stronger now in my 30's than in my 20's, but maybe it’s got something to do with confidence, experience, feeling good in my own imperfect skin.
I am definitely wary of any sort of religion… or fanaticism; which I find more and more in the states and in the media and the in the streets. Maybe it’s because people in Britain are reserved… but Berkeley is full of strange believers. I’ve never seen so many crazies. It seems sometimes these beliefs are a kind of crutch for people.
However yes, I consider myself a very spiritual person. I’ve done okay to remove myself from any religions and still consider myself as spiritual. I find it very difficult to talk about it. I remember quite a lot of arguments I had about it with my ex-boyfriend. He never believed in anything. He was totally logical, in the here and now. He was so totally different… that’s what kept us together; the need to understand each other. We never fought till we fought about religion and spirituality. But why do I stutter about it? I probably don’t have the need to talk about my spirituality. Perhaps it is something so fragile. But perhaps there is no need to articulate it… it is my sacred place. But if people see it or feel it… that’s great. But to articulate it is like raping it. I don’t know… maybe because I don’t have the vocabulary. But no one has asked me persistently. It’s a bit like being asked to talk about my vagina; like that. Where do I start? Should I!? How dare you!? It is this sort of intimacy for me. It’s probably even more so than vagina; probably easier to do that, you know.
PK: In terms of spirituality and art, the book called The Artist Way by Julia Cameron advocates being prolific, taking care of quantity of work, and letting others judge it. How I understand it is that we should just work, explore, play around, be curious and do our best and stop self-judging the effects. I find that a useful perspective.
Going back…as you know I come from Poland; Catholic country. I was baptized, had First Communion, Confirmation. At one point in my teenage years I became more and more involved in a Christian movement, I was going to lots of gatherings, holidays organized by church, I was dedicated student of a Bible, and I was praying the prayers my grandma had taught me. I carved my own wooden cross, and hung it on my chest. I guess maybe because I grew up as an only child I was longing to belong to some sort of group. Be a part of something. I was devoted, almost fanatic. The Ten Commandments seemed like a perfect map, a given answer. I thought everyone has to learn to live a life with the ever-present sense of guilt and pray for forgiveness for all the horrible sins.
Then over years I met lots of fascinating individuals from different disciplines: artists, lawyers, doctors, people working for establishment and media. I broaden my horizons and no longer felt a need to belong to any organization, to support my thinking by any ideology. I witnessed more damage religion have done in my country and people I love, than good it had done. I grew somewhat hostile towards all the Church business the more it put its almighty foot into the world of politics and media, when mostly men dare to decide about such a fragile subjects like sexuality or abortion. By the time I was adult, whenever I participated in Holy Mass (mostly weddings or funerals) I was appalled by the incompetence of priests who in the name of Jesus dared to preach from altars and shamelessly manipulate people's minds.
The only thing I miss from those years of belonging to this community is the easy access to forgiveness. Whatever your sin was, you could go to church to confess it, pray 10 times Santa Maria and the burden from your shoulders miraculously disappeared...Bliss... But I have chosen a much harder way of existence, when I have to decide what's right or wrong, and I have to deal how to deal with guilt.
I presume I'm slightly scarred by polish reality. It's not only religion but all the 2nd World War and Communism’s rather bleak past. But that said I don't feel any regret or resentment that I grew up that way, it is part of who I am now, after all. It left me with no need to belong to any spiritual group.
Having said that, and this might seem like a contradiction, I do enjoy practicing yoga these days. I find it useful before the show, to ground my sometimes-fizzy energy and lack of focus. I like doing it on my own, and in a group, when someone leads me through the poses. It's ever so beautiful, when the entire group tries to find one communal breath; so basic too. It reminds me the joy of playing in orchestra in Academy of Music, when 20 or 30 instrumentalists put collective effort into building a wall of sound.
While we are on the subject of music; it is a gigantic part of my life and truly a transformative practice. I've spent 17 years with my violin within walls of different schools, thousands of hours in solitude immersed in the essence of The Sound; a very much artistic process… very meditative. I've been through it all with this instrument, love and hate. Yet again, within organizations (schools) I experienced more a feeling of failure and underachievement (often not related to exam results, which were mostly good); just a constant struggle to achieve...to be as close to perfection as one can be. Only after I finished schools, I left for some time classical music, feeling slightly raped by it all and fearfully I allowed myself to use my technique to improvise, to express myself, to play in ugly way, even dared to compose. In Dada von Bzdulow (theatre group I worked with back in Gdansk) and then in Vincent Dance Theatre in UK, I was encouraged to explore moving and playing at the same time, sometimes resulting in clever, sometimes in deliciously ridiculous ways, breaking a couple of bows, etc. Now I can tell that I treat violin as part of my body. I'm keen to use this instrument to communicate passion, anger, joy and so on, just like actor uses his text.
After years of this military school music practice and persistence, I allow myself not to get bonded or devoted to any of practices. I know I'm inclined to be impatient or occasionally simply bored and I like to entertain myself with changes. Gym! I love it, for the simplicity of it! I think I told you that I'm slightly addicted to being physical; to pump my heart, to sweat. Also, and more importantly, to keep demons at bay. There aren't many fabulously cathartic exercises like running on treadmill for me, when I find the perfect tempo and my breath settles to it, and spinning brain can switch off. I like a feeling of being physically able and fit and strong in order to survive on stage. I'm not good in routine, I like changes, one day I run, and then I do yoga. And another day I do sweet fuck all and happily drink a bottle of wine. It’s all about balance for me, I'm Libra--but that's a joke I don't buy into astrology.
The body is a house for a soul. As I get older I know I have to be kinder to it. Strangely energy level wise I feel stronger now in my 30's than in my 20's, but maybe it’s got something to do with confidence, experience, feeling good in my own imperfect skin.
I am definitely wary of any sort of religion… or fanaticism; which I find more and more in the states and in the media and the in the streets. Maybe it’s because people in Britain are reserved… but Berkeley is full of strange believers. I’ve never seen so many crazies. It seems sometimes these beliefs are a kind of crutch for people.
However yes, I consider myself a very spiritual person. I’ve done okay to remove myself from any religions and still consider myself as spiritual. I find it very difficult to talk about it. I remember quite a lot of arguments I had about it with my ex-boyfriend. He never believed in anything. He was totally logical, in the here and now. He was so totally different… that’s what kept us together; the need to understand each other. We never fought till we fought about religion and spirituality. But why do I stutter about it? I probably don’t have the need to talk about my spirituality. Perhaps it is something so fragile. But perhaps there is no need to articulate it… it is my sacred place. But if people see it or feel it… that’s great. But to articulate it is like raping it. I don’t know… maybe because I don’t have the vocabulary. But no one has asked me persistently. It’s a bit like being asked to talk about my vagina; like that. Where do I start? Should I!? How dare you!? It is this sort of intimacy for me. It’s probably even more so than vagina; probably easier to do that, you know.
Patrycja Kujawska in The Tin Drum in 2017
P R O F E S S I O N A L E X P E R I E N C E
I must admit that I don't know exactly when I became a professional actor. I listened yesterday to your interview with Coyote, you were right, I found it very interesting. It made me smile too when he said that he doesn't consider himself as an actor. He is a writer. I can relate to that, as it is an ongoing struggle for me to identify if I am more of a musician, or dancer, or if I have the right to call myself an actor. Whenever I can get away with it I just call myself a performer who also happens to write music occasionally. More, I feel slight discomfort calling myself an artist too... sometimes. I don't want it to sound like false modesty. I actually don't know what constitutes one as a professional actor. Is it a diploma, a certain amount of shows/films under one's belt, talent, or just confidence to carry that "title"? On a good day I believe that I’ve earned the right to call myself an actress, on a bad day I fear that any minute now somebody will discover that I'm..."left handed", "misfit", or "a con"... Sometimes I fear that I'm so defined by what I do, that I'd disappear if it all stopped. But that's on a bad day, and I make sure they don't happen that often. At times I feel like stage, or rehearsal studio, is the only environment/universe I understand, I feel at home; a safe place where I kind of know how to navigate myself without bruising my soul.
As a performer I took part in over 30 theatre productions. Half of it happened in Poland, the rest in UK. Theatre took me on a massive journey both geographically (I traveled most of Europe, been to Canada, US and Australia) and artistically. It's been, and in continues to be, an emotional roller coaster.
As a performer I took part in over 30 theatre productions. Half of it happened in Poland, the rest in UK. Theatre took me on a massive journey both geographically (I traveled most of Europe, been to Canada, US and Australia) and artistically. It's been, and in continues to be, an emotional roller coaster.
JW: So what is it that we pursue… that is not just good, but great? What is a great work of art for you? Or when have you been at the top of your game as an actress?
PK: “Top of my game”, I would never say that phrase. It is rare that I am satisfied with my performance. On the other hand, I can be arrogant, and I can say that every show that I was in, I liked…because I was in it. Because I was in it, I entertained myself. Sometimes Eva Magyar, another performer from The Wilde Bride and I think… God, can we stop caring so much. They call it the eastern European block… walking in a black cloak, warming up for hours. The other aspect is completely arrogant… I love people’s attention. I like being looked at. That’s because I hope I have something to say. I have a constant need of sharing it and using the instrument of myself. And the other thing, I remember this pop song… “Do you want a truth or something beautiful”, I’m loving it… and I am thinking about that… do I want the truth, or do I want beauty, or imagination, or magic, or a sexy lie? I probably already have everything in my DNA… for doing it as long as I have… I do it like an animal. I don’t like naming. There is a fear of making poetry; making a myth of myself. Of naming things that should never be named… that it would kill it.
PK: “Top of my game”, I would never say that phrase. It is rare that I am satisfied with my performance. On the other hand, I can be arrogant, and I can say that every show that I was in, I liked…because I was in it. Because I was in it, I entertained myself. Sometimes Eva Magyar, another performer from The Wilde Bride and I think… God, can we stop caring so much. They call it the eastern European block… walking in a black cloak, warming up for hours. The other aspect is completely arrogant… I love people’s attention. I like being looked at. That’s because I hope I have something to say. I have a constant need of sharing it and using the instrument of myself. And the other thing, I remember this pop song… “Do you want a truth or something beautiful”, I’m loving it… and I am thinking about that… do I want the truth, or do I want beauty, or imagination, or magic, or a sexy lie? I probably already have everything in my DNA… for doing it as long as I have… I do it like an animal. I don’t like naming. There is a fear of making poetry; making a myth of myself. Of naming things that should never be named… that it would kill it.
T H E R E D S H O E S
PK: I've been lucky to experience truly magic moments, little miracles, seconds of pure sheer happiness and pride, as well as moments of despair, shame, inability, anger, minutes when my soul was dying a bit. Most of those feelings are related to Kneehigh Theatre's show "The Red Shoes". Those special moments happened in other shows too, but somehow that one, (maybe because it’s recent) seems imprinted on my DNA.
I didn't devise my role (The Girl). The show was made 10 years ago, and I was asked to replace the original actress. I felt privileged and thrilled and I didn't doubt for one minute that it was going to be an extraordinary experience. I jumped head first into the job, and after several shows I knew I made it totally mine. The role is built in an organic way, with increasing intensity; a sort of crescendo with inevitably painful yet liberating apex. It is the sort of a role I would imagine every actress worth her salt would love to play at some point.
It was quite intense time of changes in my private life too. Me and my partner of 6 years had broken up, I moved out of our house and decided to be based nowhere for some time, just embrace the nomadic nature of touring, one city after another. The role required shaving my head. So here I was bald headed, single, and homeless, with one suitcase in my hand, ready to embark on a Red Shoes epic journey.
I knew that we would perform this show 180 times over 10 months -- massive international tour. I love the natural freshness and factor of "unknown" at the beginning of a tour, when you make little discoveries, when you are still learning about the show, when little mistakes provides theatrical gold dust, keeping you on your toes. You dream about the show during the night. You can't easily switch off after the show. Then comes the stage when the show works like a well-oiled clockwork; you amuse and entertain yourself pitching it differently every night, playing with your role like a cook who adds to the well tested dish a slightly different spice to make it taste special, surprising, unique, and sexy. You finish the show, leave the theatre, and can move on with your life, wash dishes, read a paper, etc...
And then the next phase, when you feel like you know it all, you struggle with being authentic and honest every night, as if you were doing it for the first time. The repetition gets you. And there are theatre productions which you can survive without going an extra mile... but not The Red Shoes. This show was a greedy, demanding monster. I found myself in a miserable place: whenever I felt like I was dishonest, or gave 99% instead of 100, some sort of show category "B"… I felt like I was failing. I felt arrogant enough to know how the audience should response, and there were moments of irritation if they didn't respond the way I wanted. At times I felt like I'm taken hostage, like I'm in Groundhog Day, living some sort of parallel life instead of the one I should be living. Although I was watched by 500 to 700 people 7 times a week, I was lonely.
I didn't devise my role (The Girl). The show was made 10 years ago, and I was asked to replace the original actress. I felt privileged and thrilled and I didn't doubt for one minute that it was going to be an extraordinary experience. I jumped head first into the job, and after several shows I knew I made it totally mine. The role is built in an organic way, with increasing intensity; a sort of crescendo with inevitably painful yet liberating apex. It is the sort of a role I would imagine every actress worth her salt would love to play at some point.
It was quite intense time of changes in my private life too. Me and my partner of 6 years had broken up, I moved out of our house and decided to be based nowhere for some time, just embrace the nomadic nature of touring, one city after another. The role required shaving my head. So here I was bald headed, single, and homeless, with one suitcase in my hand, ready to embark on a Red Shoes epic journey.
I knew that we would perform this show 180 times over 10 months -- massive international tour. I love the natural freshness and factor of "unknown" at the beginning of a tour, when you make little discoveries, when you are still learning about the show, when little mistakes provides theatrical gold dust, keeping you on your toes. You dream about the show during the night. You can't easily switch off after the show. Then comes the stage when the show works like a well-oiled clockwork; you amuse and entertain yourself pitching it differently every night, playing with your role like a cook who adds to the well tested dish a slightly different spice to make it taste special, surprising, unique, and sexy. You finish the show, leave the theatre, and can move on with your life, wash dishes, read a paper, etc...
And then the next phase, when you feel like you know it all, you struggle with being authentic and honest every night, as if you were doing it for the first time. The repetition gets you. And there are theatre productions which you can survive without going an extra mile... but not The Red Shoes. This show was a greedy, demanding monster. I found myself in a miserable place: whenever I felt like I was dishonest, or gave 99% instead of 100, some sort of show category "B"… I felt like I was failing. I felt arrogant enough to know how the audience should response, and there were moments of irritation if they didn't respond the way I wanted. At times I felt like I'm taken hostage, like I'm in Groundhog Day, living some sort of parallel life instead of the one I should be living. Although I was watched by 500 to 700 people 7 times a week, I was lonely.
Patrycja Kujawska in The Red Shoes in 2010
In terms of the extraordinary nature of this process… there were nights when, despite long after-show-showers, I couldn't stop crying from exhaustion. I felt like a warrior, with my shaven head, like nothing can break me. I was going deeper and deeper into the role, not afraid of flirting with my own demons, scratching old scars, digging in bad memories. The boundary between The Girl and me got dangerously blurred. And it’s not really what Emma Rice (the director) would ask of me, quite often she was pulling me back, but that's what I thought was necessary.
Towards the end of the show The Girl screams. It is a scream of survival and freedom. I remember on few occasions that my scream was not human. The volume and quality of it often scared and surprised me. It thrilled me. One critic wrote that my performance was mesmerizing, and my eyes will haunt him for a long time... hmmm... I was sometimes wondering am I making myself mad. Luckily, I could always find a way back--and I think that's actor's responsibility. I experienced on couple of occasions that the scream was accompanied by a fountain of rays of light shooting out of my belly into the audience. To this day I wonder if it was a true spiritual experience or just a product of my imagination, internal visualization to help me to finish the show on “a peak”.
Towards the end of the show The Girl screams. It is a scream of survival and freedom. I remember on few occasions that my scream was not human. The volume and quality of it often scared and surprised me. It thrilled me. One critic wrote that my performance was mesmerizing, and my eyes will haunt him for a long time... hmmm... I was sometimes wondering am I making myself mad. Luckily, I could always find a way back--and I think that's actor's responsibility. I experienced on couple of occasions that the scream was accompanied by a fountain of rays of light shooting out of my belly into the audience. To this day I wonder if it was a true spiritual experience or just a product of my imagination, internal visualization to help me to finish the show on “a peak”.
T H E W I L D B R I D E:
C R Y I N G O U T F O R T H E G O D O F T H E A T R E
PK: I heard once that good performers are quite often very vulnerable/fragile and ultra-strong, egoistic/arrogant at the same time, and as much as I hate generalizing as such, I can recognize that cocktail in me a bit. On one level I can stand on the stage with the feeling of transparency, honesty, on the verge of emotional pornography with the child like naivety... like there is no privacy left. On the other hand, in order to protect myself from judgment I probably developed some self-protective survival technique called "I don't give a fuck what you think of me".
Around 90th show of The Wild Bride I felt, how the fuck can I find something new about this show, surprise myself. I just hope one of those little miracles will happen again. When I feel like I’m in danger of being complacent or bored, I remind myself that each show is a little prayer--but not in any religious way! More like a meditation about human nature and... yes, spirituality.
Around 90th show of The Wild Bride I felt, how the fuck can I find something new about this show, surprise myself. I just hope one of those little miracles will happen again. When I feel like I’m in danger of being complacent or bored, I remind myself that each show is a little prayer--but not in any religious way! More like a meditation about human nature and... yes, spirituality.
Patrycja Kujawska in The Wild Bride in 2013
One example of exceptional sensation I’ve had was not long ago in The Wild Bride. Again, as it was in the Red Shoes, this experience came from my tiredness and despair, I was quietly begging "The God of Theatre", if the fucker exists, to help me, and all of a sudden, I felt like Myself, I don't know... a second Me is embracing me from behind and pushes forward... strange self-embrace. I clearly felt my presence glued to my back and breathing with me, like I became my own angel for a split second... actually it was a sensation that lasted for few minutes. It felt beautiful and gentle. I actually wanted to recreate that moment again and again, like a child persists with the new favorite game or a toy... but it didn't happen again.
Other special moments feel more manufactured... like when I feel weak I just surrender for a moment to the energy the other players are giving, and surf on it for a while... bit selfish maybe--but you know…it's a give and take game. Cheeky performative vampirism.
I think the shows are really rich now. At the matinee, at the final scene of the show… the moment we opened the book (the very last gesture of the play) the whole theatre stood up… like a stadium, like a rock concert. It’s amazing. Like we are radiating a final energy because it’s the final performance… it’s like a dying animal. And in between shows we have a massage. And my whole body feels like it’s been battered by a baseball bat. And then I am wandering in a robe and my socks. And we are all thinking, oh right… time to finish this. And for the evening show I am thinking my whole body is shutting down. I thought it I wasn’t going to make it. It was a full-on day, I tell you.
Knowing that the “Ghost Light” cast was at the show altered my performance. Just knowing that someone I saw the night before… they shared their strength and witnesses with me, and I could feel they were there and not random. There is a guy in the other cast, we often exchange in the corridor while we are in intermission. And he was so exuberant about having seen our show. It’s so funny for two shows in one place, and you pass in the hallway. It’s ridiculous.
Other special moments feel more manufactured... like when I feel weak I just surrender for a moment to the energy the other players are giving, and surf on it for a while... bit selfish maybe--but you know…it's a give and take game. Cheeky performative vampirism.
I think the shows are really rich now. At the matinee, at the final scene of the show… the moment we opened the book (the very last gesture of the play) the whole theatre stood up… like a stadium, like a rock concert. It’s amazing. Like we are radiating a final energy because it’s the final performance… it’s like a dying animal. And in between shows we have a massage. And my whole body feels like it’s been battered by a baseball bat. And then I am wandering in a robe and my socks. And we are all thinking, oh right… time to finish this. And for the evening show I am thinking my whole body is shutting down. I thought it I wasn’t going to make it. It was a full-on day, I tell you.
Knowing that the “Ghost Light” cast was at the show altered my performance. Just knowing that someone I saw the night before… they shared their strength and witnesses with me, and I could feel they were there and not random. There is a guy in the other cast, we often exchange in the corridor while we are in intermission. And he was so exuberant about having seen our show. It’s so funny for two shows in one place, and you pass in the hallway. It’s ridiculous.
S E L F – T R A N S C E N D E N C E, S E R V I C E, A N D C O M M U N I T Y
PK: I was in a show once, in which one of the girls in the show had a panic attack. She’d suffered from panic attacks now and then. We took it quite lightly; instead of going heavy on it. We’d just make sure that she felt loved and that we were there to help her; that it was not the end of the world and that she could breathe. I’ve never had one. Quite a few of my friends are experiencing this or something. And, for me, it was like, “how long can you push yourself and soldier on?”, and sometimes your body and mind start to crack if you don’t take care of them, and it’s fucking scary. So, she started hyperventilating and was maybe going to pass out, and I kept thinking about the fact that the first 30 minutes of the show belong to her. She is major, and we are minors during that stretch. But what happened was that the whole experience made the show so much more special… like seeing the finishing line… I felt like I was dedicating the show to her, so she can make it through; like we were all in it together. There were a few moments where she had to hide behind the tree and breath into a bag, and that we were there with her, just being there with her. At this point there was a ritual nature to this… that we are one, we are in this together… that there is nothing more important and that the whole world could stop, and we would still be there. And yet, I kept thinking, “This is crazy! This is just entertainment and here people are passing out!”
A M B I G U I T Y & U N K N O W I N G
PK: I'm a little bit afraid of any form of fanaticism. Although I don't shy away from digging deep, I lack the desire to get uber-extreme, monastic, chained to anything, serve any religion, to alienate people and be alienated. Even talking to you I have to be careful not to repeat myself, my old truths... because I would be in danger of creating a myth. I'm far too young to do that, and hopefully I have a healthy distance from myself. Also, I'm naturally inclined to be melancholic, so there’s this need in me to fight it and be silly and reckless, just to get some bloody balance!
H U M I L I T Y & S U R R E N D E R
PK: I don’t want to go to the stage and allow myself to do a category “b” show. I’m underneath the role. I’m chasing it. 8 shows. Exhaustion. Makes me feel angry about the set-up of this thing. It’s impossible to make a genius show every time. Perhaps I’m overly ambitious. I’ve tried it all to keep myself interested, oddly enough, and this makes me sad. I was completely not in the show tonight, so I just placed myself in the show; just as a body. I left the stage and was less stressed or frustrated or drained. When I finished the show, a stage-hand said, “This show, tonight… belonged to you. You were the strongest on the stage”. I was surprised and thought to myself, maybe I just try too hard. I know nothing. I wasn’t “doing” as much… I wasn’t “trying” so hard. It couldn’t be that simple. But often, it seems it is.
You know, last night I was so focused to make things as perfect as they could be... yet I managed to enjoy every minute on stage... but all this struggle to be perfect! I'm drawn to the idea of failure; of failure as a value in theatre. We think of it in pejorative way, but I strongly believe that failure is a useful tool, and there is a place for it, a beauty in it.
You know, last night I was so focused to make things as perfect as they could be... yet I managed to enjoy every minute on stage... but all this struggle to be perfect! I'm drawn to the idea of failure; of failure as a value in theatre. We think of it in pejorative way, but I strongly believe that failure is a useful tool, and there is a place for it, a beauty in it.