Invisible Lines in Invisible Sand
I first heard
about Exhibit B in a module on
contemporary South African theatre. We were covering works produced during the
post-apartheid era, and the name Brett Bailey came up a few times throughout
the course of this study. His productions were often cited as a source of
controversy and much discussion concerning the appropriateness of staging
certain events and/or traditional rituals. Now, Brett Bailey is a white, South
African male; this heritage implicates him in the painful history of the nation
and seems to create borders for the kind of work he can make. Despite these invisible
borders however, most – if not all of his productions – feature black
performers and follow strong themes of tradition, race relations, colonialism
and black culture in South Africa. In a nutshell, his focus can be summarized as
an exploration of post-colonialism as influenced by the colonial marginalization
of the “other”.
Enter Exhibit B. I can say with certainty that
I am still uncertain as to this show’s actual purpose. Exhibit B features half-dressed and fully clothes black human
beings in various stages of the colonial spectrum, ranging from the era of Sara Baartman to present-day manifestations of subliminal racism. Human beings are
strategically placed in a space reminiscent of a museum, or a “human zoo”.
Being perfectly still, the audience viewing the exhibition is not aware that
they are not statues until they meet the eyes of the performers. The performers lock eyes with audience members and it becomes apparent that all the people on display are alive. This immediately jars the audience
into the “reality” of the situation and pushes the envelope of performance art
into the realm of extreme discomfort brought about by an acute reminder of the “self”/
the “subject”.
Naturalism
thrives on its ability to create a space so closely simulated to resemble
reality, that the machinations we all know exist behind the façade are allowed
to fade so that we can marvel at its accuracy. In the brief discussion we had
on reality, I gathered that a reality of any kind had to include a
subject/group of subjects. Therefore, the reality of naturalism can be cemented
by the operation of subjects within it. Although we know that these subjects
are not “real”, we are able to identify with them through their interaction
with the naturalistic environment provided for them. We are able to buy in to
the naturalism because there are subjects (not unlike ourselves) operating
within its (identifiable and familiar) parameters.
The cast of Exhibit B has spoken out about their
agency in the production and say they operate from a position of freedom and
enlightenment. Brett Bailey has been called a racist and many critics have
spoken out against his work. Phillip Khabo Koepsell says “If you have a white
South African director giving orders to black performers to tell their story
voicelessly, you’re not breaking the legacy. You are enforcing and reproducing
it.” On the other hand, a cast member said that they “…are proud to be black
performers in this piece; to represent our history, our present and ourselves
by playing the various characters taken from the record books.”
The director himself
has stood by his focus on the spectrum of the colonial and its
compartmentalization of the “other.” This makes me wonder if Michael Kirby’s
spectrum of acting is perhaps only a few numbers on an interminable number line.
What exists on beyond the edges of non-matrixed performing and complex acting?
How can we quantify naturalism along this spectrum? When does representation
become the perpetuation of prejudice and historical inequality? What real
effect (beyond shock value) can this kind of extreme naturalism actually have on an audience?
To this effect, I
would say that a performance becomes too “real” when its audience is given a
heightened sense of awareness; being made complicit in the consequences caused
by the distinction made between the subject and the other. When the audience is
given that extra push from simply identifying with the subject on the stage, to
being a participant in that subject’s conflict/despair/demise, the work has
crossed that invisible line from “acting” to “being”. The safety cushion of the
wink is not provided, and the audience is left hurtling through a million
questions and feelings to an unknown demise.
But is this a bad thing?
More information
about this bewildering production;
Production ImagesA Brief History
Performers Response
Director's Response
The Performer and The Opposition (A Dialogue)
Wow. Thanks for this powerful post, Sarah.
ReplyDeleteMy gut reaction upon reading this article was yes, this is a bad thing. But then I pondered it a bit more, and I'm not sure. Much like the story of the border crossing, I found myself asking about Exhibit B, "Would I go? Should I go? Does the fact that I'm half white make it not okay for me to go? Or does the fact that I am half brown make it slightly more okay to go because my people were also slaves at one time and have dealt with the repercussions of colonialism?" And then, I simply thought. "Hey. This is not about you." So, looking at it bigger picture, do I think others should attend Exhibit B? I still am unsure. I suppose if this were, say, an exhibit in a museum where one was looking at pictures or artifacts, it would still be an uncomfortable experience- and rightfully so. I truly believe we need these powerful depictions of racism in our art so that we do not forget our past, and can work to rewrite the future. But something you said particularly struck me. The image of the performers locking eyes with you, forcing the reminder of their existence upon you. In a way, I think it's beautiful and strikingly powerful. Yet there's another part of me that would want to stop the "performance", to cover the stripped women, to undo the shackles. I'm not sure I could see someone in pain like that (even if the pain was representative) and not do something. This actually reminds me of a conversation I had last semester with Osi about Sally's Rape. If I’d been in the audience during the auction block scene, I would have had a hard time not wanting to cover Robbie's naked body. But again- that's the statement Robbie wanted to make. She wanted the humiliation to be visceral and the audience to feel like the voyeurs that they were, so that maybe, just maybe- they'd have a tiny iota of the grandiose horrors experienced by African Americans. Perhaps it's the same with Exhibit B. The whole point is to make the audience feel uncomfortable for an hour or so that, hopefully, they'll walk away with a slightly better understanding of the horror of colonialism and apartheid.
Maybe Exhibit B does cross an invisible line by making the audience duplicitous in the exercise. And I agree with your sentiment that a performance becomes too “real” when its audience is given a heightened sense of awareness. If I’m made to be an active participant in the performer’s “conflict/despair/demise,” I concur that the line from “acting” to “being” has to be uncomfortably crossed. Though, I wouldn't go so far to say that Exhibit B is racist, as it was deemed by London’s Barbican Center. It isn’t made up- it was inspired by the actual African “human zoos”- which some people may not know existed. In that sense, I feel like it isn’t the “grotesque parody” it was called by a critic. I think people are questioning this exhibit more because they aren’t able to deal with Europe’s appalling colonial past any more than there are able to deal with the reality of blatant racism that still exists in the Africa and Europe today. And as far as “the wink” not being provided and the audience being left to contemplate the numerous queries, I think that maybe that could be re-framed into a positive thing. Aren’t some of the functions of art to make us question, to process our emotional response, and to perhaps change us?
So, at the end of the day, while Exhibit B might not be my thing, I wouldn’t dismiss it as a “Bad Thing.”
Thank you for this response!
DeleteThe phrase "made up" stood out for me because it sort of encompasses the entire premise of theatre and performance. There is security in the fact that we all know this isn't real, and that the actors taking part in whatever actions are unfolding on stage are normal people who will go home and make a bag of microwave popcorn at the end of a long day (wink). However, this reminds me of something that was mentioned in a documentary on Marina Abramovic's 'The Artist is Present'; The difference between performance art and theatre is that the knife, the blood and the pain are real for the performance artist, and fake for the theatre actor.
If we take it further however, and examine for instance the case of the unfortunate couple you discuss in your blog post, the pain experienced by both people was not a result of fake circumstances, but of real feelings being wrung out in a setting that is supposed to accommodate something "made up". Perhaps the success of Naturalism lies in its ability to re-create the "real" so well, to ensure that an audience is so impressed by its facade that they are able to examine this from a distance. It may be a stretch to say that all theatre is based on some version of the real and natural world, but perhaps there is also an entire spectrum of what is "real".
Art does indeed function to call us out on our humanity and hold us responsible for our collective responsibility, and perhaps the more "real" art is, the stronger that call is. But do we determine what is "real" by its ability to recreate painful circumstances? Is performance less "real" as a romcom and more "real" as the Oscar Pistorius case, and perhaps "hyperreal" as an episode of Baggage?
Then again, perhaps reality is subjective, and the effect of such a show can only be quantified on a personal scale. I do not think Exhibit B is a bad thing either, but there are those who would definitely say it is.