Searching for the Avant-Garde?

We just had a discussion in my research methods class that was both provocative and problematic. The presentation and framework for the discussion was wonderful. A trio of students presented an article dealing with the question of a problematic emphasis on the avant-garde of academic theater research. One of the questions that I really wanted to deal with, but didn't seem to have the words to broach, was the idea that the avant-garde becomes popular and the popular avant-garde. We talked about the idea that we can only understand the avant-garde through the lens of popular theater--at least according to the author of the essay, who argued that the avant-garde can only be understood in relationship to/as a reaction to current popular theater of the era. While we discussed the concept that the avant-garde, with come consistency, becomes the popular and vice-versa, we didn't really talk at all about the point of avant-garde-ism. We failed to discuss--and I failed to raise--the question of labels and their affect on theatrical production. Anyone who has seen someone's failed attempt to "go Brechtian" on a particular production can understand that often particular modes of presentation and certain texts or stories simply do not mesh--or, that same someone could at least allow that a director or design team's interpretation of particular modes of presentation does not mesh with certain texts and stories. Our responsibility as artists is to express, or more specifically, to allow expression, to provide the context in which an idea or concept or emotion or point of view can be explored through action, movement, dialogue, and/or imagery. When we set out to "be" avant-garde, or to express something through the techniques of our interpretation of Brecht, we tread on dangerous ground. These production concepts, if left so broad, can destroy our ability to create any sort of realm of expression. I'm not really sure if this all makes sense to me, but it's something I'm trying to sort out right now.

The class also seemed to skirt the issue--and, I would argue, problem--of sociological studies and generalizations made of past audiences of shows. The statement was made something to the effect that we know who goes to see a certain kind of play because those plays, shown in churches across Europe in the centuries preceding the Renaissance, had audiences composed entirely of church-goers. Indeed? For those of us who've been "to church", we know that someone's attendance does not equal an understanding of their personality, religious beliefs, nor, in fact, their affiliation with the particular group with which they are in attendance. Vast generalizations were made and, for an as yet unknown reason, I was fairly silent. I think shock must have set in without my knowing it. Once a production happens, we've missed it. Theater is happenings. Once we miss a happening, we've missed it. We can study it and the society in which it was performed and we can glean much from such study, but we can never truly understand the piece without seeing it as it was presented. At least, I think that's true. No matter how well-recorded and how well-preserved that original text with all its stage directions is, we cannot recreate the production. We cannot re-experience it. It isn't happening anymore.

I guess I left the class with an understanding that the discussions we will have will be generic unless forced to be specific, which is sad. I feel as though my classmates are intelligent and interesting. I guess we all--including me--need to speak louder. In our defense, if the remainder of the presentations are as creative and provocative as the Breakfast Club-inspired presenters of today, I will have new faith that our contributions to theater and the world will be felt. Plus, we'll all have a great time.

Week 3

Things are moving right along. It's still strange living in the city. My apartment is just off the corner of two of the busiest streets in Honolulu. Four years ago, the population was at around 900,000. Now, most estimates put it close to 1 million. That's a lot of people for a small island. The population is pretty interesting. One of the things I learned before leaving was that the island was made up of about 20% white/caucasian. The other 80% are either local indigenous people or (mostly) from Asia--China, the Philippines, other Pacific islands, and, largely, Japan. It's a strange mix.

There are white people who are from Hawai'i; their family has lived here for several generations, and they are considered kama 'aina, which means "of the island". I am considered a haole, pronounced "HOW-lee". This is a generic term that usually refers to a white person who isn't from the islands or who doesn't live on the island. Since I live here now, and especially since I have my UH student ID, I can get kama 'aina rates at most local businesses. These are the equivalent of student rates or non-tourist rates. Basically, I get to pay the price that locals pay.

That's about as close to becoming kama 'aina that I can get, which is really okay with me. There's a strange sort of attitude that comes with living on an island. There's a sense that you're trapped. Maybe it's the same on the mainland, but at least there's the illusion that you can move up or out or away from something. Here, you can't. If you go in any direction, all you find is the Pacific Ocean. (Which is beautiful, by the way.)

People generally keep to themselves here. There's not much nodding as you pass on the street. I'm used to being able to at least make eye contact and smile or nod as I pass someone--and that happens occasionally--but for the most part, people are tuned into their iPods or cell phones, or are just too interested in where they're going to pay attention to other people on the street. People are friendly...don't get me wrong, but it's a different kind of friendliness. I guess, shocked as I am to admit it, I miss not living in the city. Things are convenient here. I can walk to Wal-Mart, the mall, school, grocery stores, and the beach, but I'm surrounded by people all the time. I certainly don't hate it here, but if I had the choice, I think I'd live somewhere else. Somewhere quieter, maybe, but close enough to a city that I could be there in a flash to hang out or get supplies. I've thought about moving up into the mountains here or out on the North Shore. It's much quieter there and less populated. I'd have lizards everywhere, but I'd also have some more space. So...I guess right now, I'm weighing geckos against people. Which population is more annoying?

That's a way more difficult question than it should be.

I think of family and friends constantly. I miss you guys and I can't wait to see you at Christmas.

Two Weeks Down...

Well, I've been here for three weeks now. The weather has been wonderful so far. A few rain showers here and there, but nothing major--no monsoons, typhoons, or any other sort of -oon to speak of. I did get drenched one day on my way to work the week before classes started, but the rain comes and goes quickly (and clothing and poor grad students dry pretty quickly in the heat).

I'm adjusting to this brand-new place well, I think. It's been tricky getting used to life without a car, but the buses are pretty good here. Mostly, I miss my family and friends and Rebecca, who is in Kenya right now. We haven't been able to talk for a week, which is the longest we've gone without speaking in three years. It's tough doing this alone, but I'm also enjoying the challenge and freedom here. There's a lot to be said for moving thousands of miles away from everyone you know. I am learning a lot about myself and who (and where) I really want to be. I am also getting a great tan.

Not much to report. Classes are going well. I'm beginning research on sustainable theater practices and eco-friendly theater. I'm hoping to transform the research into a paper that will both satisfy the requirements of my research methodology class, and that I can also present at a conference in Oregon in May. At the end of the class, we are given the option to submit the paper for publication, and I intend to do that as well.

I'm also taking two scenic design classes. I am getting a lot of ideas on projects I can use to teach design from the lower level course. The upper-level class has two main projects. The first and most emphasized project is the design of a show for a local theater called Kumu Kahua Theatre. My show is called Whatever Happened to John Boy Kihano?. It's about a boy whose father claims was sent away with a mysterious aunt whom no one else in the family has ever met or heard of. I think it's based on an actual event. The show doesn't open until March 12 of next year, but meetings will begin soon. The second part of the class is to research some aspect of environmental theater. We're reading a book right now written by Richard Schechner, and we each take three chapters and lead a discussion of them in class. The scope of that research is fairly limited, but will still be challenging.

That's about it so far. I miss everyone and I love you guys.