View MoreExcerpts from an interview which Frank Camilleri gave to ELZBIETA STELMASZCZYK for the Polish culture journal Pogranicza (1/2003 [42], pp. 29-43). The interview followed hard on the heels of John Schranz’s and Frank Camilleri’s acclaimed work in two major theatre events in Poland in 2002. At the time of the interview, Camilleri still formed part of Gruppi ghall-Inkontri tal-Bniedem (Groups for Human Encounter).
E.S.:
Both your presentation at the Kontrapunkt international conference in Szczecin in April 2002 and the performance of Id-Descartes at the ‘MALTA’ theatre festival in Poznañ in June were so energetically and emotionally loaded that I consider myself a participant rather than just a mere witness of these two memorable events.
F.C.:
The ‘theatre’ that we do in Gruppi is different to what is generally understood by the term in conventional theatre – and by ‘conventional theatre’ I’m also referring to those performances which project the ‘image’ that they are ‘experimental’ or ‘alternative’ or ‘research’ but are, in fact, merely reproducing the ‘conventions’ of research theatre in a partly digested manner. In Gruppi we seek, as far as this is possible, to remove rather than add to, the masks that we wear in our everyday life. Id-Descartes is not simply ‘about’ Rene Descartes, a 17th century French philosopher – it is also ‘about’ a human being living at the end of the 20th century in a post-colonial island, speaking three languages. In this framework, Descartes’ famous annunciation ‘I think, therefore I am’ assumes a totally different perspective that sheds light on the question of identity. In being ‘about the performer as a human being’, the performance strives to be true to itself, and in being true to itself, the performance also makes it possible for the open spectator (or ‘beholder’ as John Schranz calls the viewer), to probe his or her humanity. Perhaps it is for this reason that you felt yourself a participant in Id-Descartes. Another reason may be suggested by your reference to ‘energetically loaded’, which can be symptomatic of a more physiological explanation for your ‘participation’. I’m of course referring to ideomotor actions: the spectator’s physical (re)action to the performer’s actions. This is something that John actively works upon in Gruppi.
In many ways performance is, for us, to use Jerzy Grotowski’s word, a confession. And a confession has to be ‘truthful’ for it to be ‘meaningful’. The removal of those masks that have covered and transformed our humanity is an important factor that informs our training regimen. And when spectators behold this kind of work, they are often touched on an ‘emotional’ and ‘spiritual’ level.
E.S.:
During your presentation you define the first and paramount task of an actor to meet ‘himself’ before he meets his director and the audience. How do you try to reach that point? How do you ‘meet yourself’?
F.C.:
The theme of the Kontrapunkt conference in Szczecin was ‘Theatre – Dialogue Space’. Most, if not all, of the ideas that were being suggested and discussed during the meeting concerned a kind of interdisciplinary dialogue between theatre and other forms of knowledge and practices. The main thrust in our presentation was that before the performer can attempt to meet and to dialogue with the other, s/he needs to encounter, hence to ‘dialogue with’, him/herself.
‘How to reach that point? How to meet yourself?’ These are very tricky questions, worthy of Hamlet’s famous ‘question’! Stanislavski’s statement about ‘the actor who works upon himself’ is a good starting point. To work upon yourself is to meet yourself. To work upon yourself is to teach yourself the lessons which you have ‘learnt’ from your teachers and from your students – because in teaching others, the teacher learns. The process of meeting oneself is thus not as ‘introspective’ as it might seem at first sight – it involves the otherness that the master and the apprentice provide. I like to reread Stanislavski’s statement as ‘the actor who works upon himself as other’. This reformulation of Stanislavski assures that the dialogue that the actor conducts with the self during work is not what Jacques Lacan would call on the imaginary level where the other is merely an extension of the self and where ‘otherness’ is merely an accumulation of sameness rather than of difference. In my experience, to work upon oneself requires a great deal of humility, to take absolutely nothing for granted and to always keep in touch with the basics of the work.
Meeting oneself in the studio is a preparation not just for the performance-encounter, but also for life-encounters. The objective is to first meet yourself. This is the other side of the coin to how to change the world: the true revolutionaries are not those who ‘want to change the world’, but those who ‘change themselves’. It is only by working – truthfully working – upon ourselves that we can bring change.
E.S.:
During the presentation I noticed an unusual bond of friendship and understanding between John, the director, and you, the actor. I understand that you have been working together since 1989. Has your mutual understanding deepened during the work on Id-Descartes, first presented in 1996 to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Descartes’ birth? Could you elaborate on the way in which you worked on the performance, on your joint quest, and on your special relationship?
F.C.:
I first met John in 1988 when I attended one of his University courses. In July 1989 he invited me to form part of his group, then known as Teatru tal-Bniedem, not as an apprentice-performer but as the group diarist. It was in this role that I then decided to start training with the others, so that apart from observing from the outside, I could also experience from the inside the group’s work. Soon I was working in earnest with the rest – I actually became an ‘apprentice-performer’ without knowing it, even though I had wanted to become one after seeing Teatru tal-Bniedem’s It-Tliet Manikomji ta’ Censu Van Gogh.
In those early years I was the junior member of John’s ensemble of performers. It was also in those years that I came to see John as a friend and not simply as a teacher. In 1992 John went to Bologna University, and in 1993 he renamed the group Gruppi ghall-Inkontri tal-Bniedem. In September 1993 I went to Cardiff University whilst John trained the new members of the group. By this time I was no longer the ‘junior member’ in the group. In 1994 we worked on Inkontri Possibbli which was first presented in Malta in 1995. The work on Id-Descartes began in the summer of 1995 and the solo was premiered in November 1996. The long months John and I spent together, working on Id-Descartes, have changed my life, not ‘merely’ as a performer but as a human being. So yes, our ‘mutual understanding has deepened during the work on Id-Descartes’. Id-Descartes marked a very peculiar moment for us, not just in my development as a performer but also in John’s evolution as a director. In the creative process of Id-Descartes, John relinquished a lot of the power traditionally ascribed to the director. In a sense I was as much of a director as John was a performer of Id-Descartes. I was the one who came up with the texts and clothes, and the overall structure of the piece, and John would feed me back on the level of dynamics and images. In the latter stages of the work it was no longer possible to say ‘who’ was proposing ‘what’ because we were feeding each other to such an extent that it was, really, a joint creation – no doubt evidence of the encounter that bears the name of our group.
E.S.:
Many members of the audience admired the way you used your voice and body. These two are the most essential instruments actors have at their disposal. Watching you act I felt you realised the wish expressed in the question Elisabeth asks Descartes: ‘How can the soul of man, being only a thinking substance, determine his bodily spirits to perform voluntary actions?’ You seemed to have mastered these ‘bodily spirits’. Am I right in assuming that it is a result of titanic efforts and painstaking practice, both physical and spiritual?
F.C.:
The performer’s work upon himself is like the constant fine-tuning of an instrument, a kind of fine-tuning that allows the performer to discover and to explore, and therefore also to extend, the range of his ‘instrument’s’ capabilities. John compares this to a violin that is transformed in the process of being played! Much of the work that a performer does on his own upon himself has a lot of do with listening to what his ‘instrument’ is saying or suggesting or singing. The performer then works upon himself in a technical manner in order to liberate blocks that hinder the music from being sung. Fine-tuning and listening, listening and fine-tuning …until a point is reached when the two are difficult to distinguish from each other. This is similar to the performer’s work with his director – which goes to illustrate what I asserted earlier concerning the performer’s need to meet himself before meeting the ‘other’. By working upon himself with his director-pedagogue as ‘other’, the performer is not ‘simply’ fine-tuning his body but also his ‘humanity’, i.e. his ability to take action and to do so in a truthful manner.
Apart from lecturing at the University, which I consider to complement my theatre practice in helping me to constantly polish my pedagogical skills as well as in providing me with a rich source of texts to cultivate the imaginative aspect of the performer’s work, I train daily at the studio. Apart from the physical work at the studio, there is also the writing about the work. Keeping a work diary is a crucial aspect of my practice as a performer. It helps me to revisit the work in a structured manner since writing necessitates that you present your material in a structured manner. It is thus this structured re-visitation of the work that allows me to project and plan my work. Writing about the work also involves the exercising of the performer’s memory and thought processes. It is a very important aspect of my practice as a performer.
I also lead Icarus, a group under my supervision within the structure of Gruppi. I like the name ‘Icarus’ because it is reminiscent of facing the sun, of flying and of falling, of teaching and of learning how to fly while keeping your feet on the ground. Icarus is currently composed of 4 apprentices. I am very pleased with the quality of the group’s work. I intend the work to develop into a performance by mid 2003. This performance should mark a major stage in their formation process as performers. It is also a crucial part of my ongoing formation process as a performer – indeed, it is through transmission and by working on the individual blocks of the members of Icarus that I currently conduct the bulk of my ‘performer’s work upon myself’. This performance should mark a major stage in my formation as a director. This is the first time that I am directing others towards a performance, and I’m doing so on the basis of what I have learned as a performer. I’m very excited about this aspect of my work.
E.S.:
How does the fact that you are an actor yourself affect your collaboration with the members of Icarus?
F.C.:
As I’ve already said, in teaching them, I am also learning a lot myself. Since I am a practitioner-actor and not ‘only’ their director, I cannot simply stand out and watch and give them tasks from the outside because I have not trained like that! I lead the work from inside, by working with them on their obstacles – and it is this work that is teaching me (as a performer) a lot. Having said that, there are moments in the pedagogical process where I have to stand out and watch, mostly for their own sake so that they have enough space to work upon themselves at their own individual pace.
Earlier on you referred to the ‘physical and spiritual’ aspects of the work. With this kind of commitment to our practice, I feel that the ethical aspect of our aesthetic speaks for itself. I am here alluding to John’s term e(ste)tika that he uses to describe the approach he has instilled and still instils in Gruppi: at the heart of our aesthetic practice there is an ethical one.
E.S.:
This reminds me of an article in the first issue of Margin, your studio’s publication, about the search for a place, your own venue, where the group members could carry out their work. I was particularly moved by the statement that you wished to realize ‘... our vision of a space that allows us to work as befits our uncompromising ethic and rigour’. Who are these people, who, when faced with such total consumerism in culture, wish to adopt and maintain an uncompromising ethic and rigour?
F.C.:
These are people who want to shed masks, and not add new ones; people who want to face the sun and fly, and not watch (or ignore) others do it for them on television; people who are not daunted by the prospect of change in a world that promotes sameness and the fear of the unknown. One can only speak in metaphors here, even at the cost of sounding like a raving lunatic in a barren desert.
E.S.:
The name of your group indicates a possibility of real encounter. Let me be a bit of an advocatus diaboli and ask you, a pedagogue and an actor, a question: Is real encounter really possible in our age?
F.C.:
I believe that ‘real encounter’ has always been difficult, in any age. It is the circumstances that change. ‘Real encounter’ begins with encountering yourself. It is not easy to face yourself. Working upon yourself in the context of a theatre practice is a means of encountering yourself and others. People like John Schranz and Ingemar Lindh, Eugenio Barba and Jerzy Grotowski, and particularly Ryzard Ciezlak's work (from what I have read and seen of it in books, videos, and pictures), have been very important to me. There are moments when I feel that I am not being true enough to my calling. That even in my ‘state’ and despite my aspirations I still have a lot of masks that I need to shed. The performer's is a very humble work. You never take anything for granted. And such a simple thing can be, is often, the most difficult thing. This, in fact, is what I find the most difficult thing for apprentices to ‘learn’: it is not technique, but the humility of facing the work. Facing the work is a means of facing yourself. I like to call it 'facing the sun'. In moments of doubt I bow my head and return to the alphabet … and to the knowledge that I can only be what I give and receive.
E.S.:
In the editorial of the third issue of Margin, titled ‘The Space of Performance’, you allude to what appears to be a very significant event for you. Can you elaborate a bit more on this?
F.C.:
In that editorial I allude to the time I did a work demonstration in front of Jerzy Grotowski at the Pontedera Workcentre in 1996. John had been invited to share our work in Gruppi with the members of the Workcentre. We performed Inkontri Possibbli and we watched their opus Action. We were also asked to demonstrate some of our training regimen. It was in this context that I presented a solo demo of the exercises John had developed. I do not think I can say anything more than the ‘facts’ about this event. For me it was, it is, an event after which nothing remained the same. It was an experience I will never forget ... it is always with me whenever I train and perform ... I can still feel his eyes on me whenever I lay down my forehead on the floor just before and at the end of my work sessions. Just as I can still hear Ingemar Lindh’s voice telling me to listen, to listen to what my body is telling me.
E.S.:
In January 2001, together with other members of Gruppi and Teatru Marta Kwitt, you moved to a new studio in a place you named “Action Base – Researching Performative Processes”. Did it also mark a new chapter in your creative work?
F.C.:
After long years of searching for a place, hoping that various institutions would give us a helping hand, our two groups decided to go private and rent a place of our own. They were terrible years in which our identity as theatre-makers was threatened because we were not being allowed to ‘make theatre’ as a result of the conditions which the educational institution which managed the place we had been using since 1989 had submitted us to. In January 2001 we moved to Triq il-Forga in Naxxar and started training in the small room upstairs whilst doing structural works in the hall downstairs. We launched the studio in April 2001 with John’s monologue Novecento and in July Teatru Marta Kwitt premiered their piece called Bakki. In November 2001 we held an Id-Descartes Fifth Anniversary event with runs of Gruppi’s performances and a number of public conferences and concerts. The first months of 2002 were spent on the gigantic task of laying a wooden floor at the Studio – yes, because for a whole year we worked on a cement floor. Laying that wooden floor was, believe me, another kind of performance with all the planning, co-ordination, and commitment that it required. In April 2002 Teatru Marta Kwitt presented a piece called Il-Hames Lamentazzjonijiet ta’ Sara. Apart from all this, the pedagogical process I initiated at Icarus would not have been possible without ActionBase. Having a place of our own allowed us to devise our own working schedule: after years of constriction (having to abide by two three-hour slots in the afternoon) it became possible to work at our own individual paces and rhythms at all times of the day and night. Has this marked a new chapter in my creative work? It has liberated me.
E.S.:
During this year’s “Malta” festival in Poznan you gave three runs of Id-Descartes, a solo performance created in 1996 and shown in Italy in Sassari (1996, 2000), Urbino (1997), Biella (1997), Rome (1998), Tartu (Estonia, 1999), Edinburgh (Scotland, 1999), and Thessaloniki (Greece, 2001). This has been your first contact with a Polish audience, and a festival audience at that. What impressions have these presentations made on you?
F.C.:
Our week in Poznan was particularly intense for us: emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Performing is always an ‘out of the ordinary’ experience, but Poznan was particularly intense. Maybe because of the tragic event that opened the festival; maybe because the festival’s name produced such a strange and paradoxically ‘familiarly unfamiliar’ feeling for us who come from another ‘Malta’ who thinks it is the Malta; definitely because of the people who came to watch the festival performances (I’ve never experienced such a healthy electrifying interest in an audience); and then meeting ‘new-old’ friends like you and Marek and Zbignew from Szczecin, and ‘old-old’ friends like Jola Cynkutis, Lech Raczak and Daria Anfelli, and Juliusz and Joanna Tyszka, as well as making some ‘new-new’ ones as well!
E.S.:
I am glad you mentioned Jola Cynkutis and Lech Raczak. I understand that you have worked with them at some point.
F.C.:
I first met Lech in 1994 when John sent me as a member of his group to participate in an intensive 5-week project under Lech’s direction that resulted in La Vita di S. Giovanni. It was my first experience of theatre work abroad, and what an experience that was with some 10 hours of work a day for over a month! In the following year I attended and assisted Lech in a 2-week seminar he gave at the University of Urbino. In 1996 I worked with Lech on another 5-week project that resulted in the performance La Pietra e il Dolore. It was in this context that I’ve met Jola. I immediately felt close affinity with Jola’s work – the work we conducted in Gruppi, especially the work on Id-Descartes which was nearing completion at the time, was so close in spirit and in form to the plastique and multi-layered work of Jola. Lech and Jola came at a very critical stage in my education as a performer. I have learnt a lot from both of them: from Lech’s direction and from Jola’s performer work. I think it is no coincidence that my work on Id-Descartes in 1995 and 1996 followed my encounter with them. During these years I also had the opportunity to work with Ingemar Lindh’s Institutet för Scenkonst and to observe closely Odin Teatret’s work in conferences and workshops they held in Rome and in Holstebro. It was a very illuminating period for me, more so since I had a very strong base to return to in Malta under a director who was also a pedagogue and a theatre scholar. To have such a base, and to feel – whether he is there or not – John’s eyes on me as I work, has been my blessing as a performer.