That said, I also agree with the fundamental proposition. “Live” in performance means much more than simply “not recorded”.
]]>Perhaps because I am a theatre artist primarily and am only just starting to dive into camera work, I am in awe of how the camera can invite breathtaking vulnerability – and even though it lives in a reproduced state, it can continue to feel ‘Live’ – and, in fact, WAS so very live – just not right now. There is an unconsciousness that can be captured and I think that is why so many people feel so uncomfortable in front of the camera. Walter Benjamin (can’t remember the name of the article right now) talks about how a performer can feel dehumanized in front of the camera, and yet, sometimes I think it’s the most startling revelation of humanity. Only that moment exists.
But as an audience, is the absence of the discourse that leaves us feeling alone or isolated? Or intimate? Can this dialogue continue with the artists who participated – those who made the film, those who were in it? The world of social media seems to blast this right open for us.
]]>It’s about this liveness and vulnerability but it’s also about doing basically the same thing every night. Maybe I’m in a phase of liking stories or clear structures and more comedy. And comedy needs a kind of craft, it requires repetition and intention. But for the craft to be held loosely — to let in and accept the inevitable imperfection.
There is also a difference between training, rehearsal room and the stage. Though I’m looking for my ideal blend in those too.
In particular, that the content of the writing contains the same vulnerability that it is arguing for. This is very hard to do.
Thinking about what makes a performance ‘live’, made me flash to the last time I acted in a Praxis show (Stranger). There was a scene early in the play where James Murray, who was playing Mersault, threw me a zippo from the balcony of Theatre Centre to where I was on the stage below. It was a hard catch, especially looking up into theatre lighting, and I didn’t help my cause by attempting (most of the time) an overhand snatch.
I think I was 16/18 overall during the run, which I felt pretty good about. What I liked about it was that it forced me, right from the get go, to be alive (‘live”) and live in the moment of that show everyday specifically. I remember thinking that if it was a movie, we would just film the moment over and over until I had the perfect catch, and then this perfect catch would live in perpetuity.
Because our show was “live”, this was never assured. Most audiences saw me make the catch, some didn’t. What would happen in that moment could not be assured. Hopefully moments like that add to the relevance and appeal of a live event. I know they did for me as a performer. I think they did for the audience, although it is hard to say for sure, as no one outside of the production ever mentioned the lighter catch to me…
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