Physical Theatre
September 9, 2010:
September 2010 – Performing physical theater at the Workcenter of Jerzy Grotowski and Thomas Richards in Pontedera (Italy) – I was invited wittness at three presentations created at the Workcenter between September 3 and 6 2010: The Living Room by The Focused Research Team in Art as Vehicle, led by Thomas Richards, I am America and Electric Party by the Open Program, led by Mario Biagini. I went to Pontedera to learn about this physical theater approach. And I got so much more. I was deeply touched by both performances, The Living Room and I am America, however in different ways. In The Living Room my own body, my breath, plunged into the rhythm of the performing persons and their voices. It was like I became part of a whole in a very basic sense – as if I had always been there, wrapped into a warm sheath of feelings. Hardly to put into words. Understanding with all my senses. Silence. There was no particular ending of the performance. It was over. Nobody would clap hands. Tacit agreement. On the other day in I am America an emotional intensity filled the space right after the beginning of the performance. One could not escape. As if Allen Ginsberg’s poetry was injected, introduced in the blood flow of every single wittness in the audience… Photograph: Christina Lammer
September 2010 – Performing physical theater at the Workcenter of Jerzy Grotowski and Thomas Richards in Pontedera (Italy) – I was invited wittness at three presentations created at the Workcenter between September 3 and 6 2010: The Living Room by The Focused Research Team in Art as Vehicle, led by Thomas Richards, I am America and Electric Party by the Open Program, led by Mario Biagini. I went to Pontedera to learn about this physical theater approach. And I got so much more. I was deeply touched by both performances, The Living Room and I am America, however in different ways. In The Living Room my own body, my breath, plunged into the rhythm of the performing persons and their voices. It was like I became part of a whole in a very basic sense – as if I had always been there, wrapped into a warm sheath of feelings. Hardly to put into words. Understanding with all my senses. Silence. There was no particular ending of the performance. It was over. Nobody would clap hands. Tacit agreement. On the other day in I am America an emotional intensity filled the space right after the beginning of the performance. One could not escape. As if Allen Ginsberg’s poetry was injected, introduced in the blood flow of every single wittness in the audience… Photograph: Christina Lammer