Performance 101

Hello world,

Welcome to Performance 101.  This is not a theater class, though the lecture will fit in nicely with a theater studies, or rather performance studies course.  In many ways, performance and theater overlap and are integral in understanding and informing the other discipline.  First of all, as all great teachers do, I must reference you to the Wikipedia page on performance studies: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Performance_studies.

Or, if you would rather not read that incredibly long and probably boring article, I can give you a basic understanding of "performance."  Yes, performance is still in many ways, a theater event, what we think of as "performing arts": theater, dance, concert, etc.  However, linguistically, the expression performing arts suggests "arts being performed," or in other words, "arts being done."  Done can be translated into staged, completed, the list goes on.  The whole idea of performance is the act of doing.  Performance is an action.  Generally, we think of performance as an arts or theatrical activity, but even in our everyday lives, we perform.  We perform our gender, we perform our race, we perform our sexuality--every single aspect of our identities is performed.  Performance studies theorists say that identity is not created by being but rather by doing.  What helped me understand this concept was, "I am a baker, because I bake a lot."  Or, "I am a nice person, because I do nice things for people."

I will admit, when I first read this--our daily lives are a performance--I was completely perplexed.  I've always thought of performance in the theatrical sense, which I don't associate with authenticity.  Theater is an act; even if actors are embodying characters and trying to portray a universal human truth--which I now understand to be nearly impossible (on a theoretical level)--the actors are not being themselves, and that is inherently inauthentic.  So then I thought, if I'm performing in real life, then I'm not being authentic, which of course, I don't want.  I want to be genuine and real, not wearing a mask.  I've done that before (briefly), and that was no fun.  And this is ultimately what I've learned, performance is not an inherently bad thing.  As long as we are true to ourselves and others, performance becomes just another part of who we are.  Or, sometimes your location can affect your performance.  I'm going to perform, or behave, differently if I'm hanging out with my friends than when I'm at church service.

Scholars use performance studies to examine how different identities (race, gender, sexuality, etc.) are exposed or performed in different areas.  Performance studies questions include ones like, "What does it mean that this black man is doing this act?" or "Why is it more 'appropriate' for a woman to do this act?"  For example, if I walked on to a bus, and I saw that all the black people in the bus were sitting in the back and all the white people in the bus were sitting in the front of the bus (this model intentionally excludes other races/ethnicities for the sake of an example), I (being a performance studies or race theorist) might be alarmed and wonder, "What does it mean that all the black people are sitting in the back of the bus?  Is racism or color separation still institutionalized (accepted as the norm) in the bus system?"  Fortunately, I have yet to see this model occur in my bus riding experiences, but you get the point.

There are many important scholars in the field of performance studies.  I don't know them all, but the names that I'm most familiar with or have heard often are Judith Butler, Eve Sedgwick, E. Patrick Johnson, Dwight Conquergood, and José Muñoz.  Anna Deveare Smith too, without delving too much into the academic world but still practically (I mean, in the way of practicing, tangibly) dealing with the theories, challenges ideas and raises questions of how we conceive of and perform race.  She is a black actress, but in her one-woman shows, she embodies characters who are of different races and genders than her; in one play, she played a Hasidic Jewish woman, a Korean woman, and Al Sharpton (a black American Baptist minister, civil rights activist, and radio talk show host).  We (audiences) sometimes laugh as she convincingly portrays the Jewish woman with the strong Brooklyn accent, but then we have to realize (or if we think critically about Smith's performance) that Smith is not white, she's not Jewish, and, perhaps less important, she's not from Brooklyn; yet Smith takes on all of the physical mannerisms, vocal patterns, and clothes/appearance of the woman and without altering her skin color, virtually--almost literally, physically--transforms into the Jewish woman.  The article that discusses Smith and her performances is titled, "Is Race a Trope?," and so we are left to wonder, is race a trope?  The author, Debby Thompson, answers yes and no.  Yes, because Smith is fluidly able to perform across race; no, because race is still a visible, physical element of the performance.  In these performances about racial tensions after race riots in Los Angeles and Crown Heights, Brooklyn, race is a fundamental element of the piece; it is an inextricable part of Smith's identity and appearance; and it informs her piece.  The article was super fascinating and informative.  I can email it to you if you're interested.

After I read the Smith/Thompson article, when I was talking with Beth, I realized that my 12 Ophelias role had so much performance theory loaded into the character, which I had understood on a basic level during the rehearsal/performance process but realized even more in 2 weeks ago.  For those of you who don't know, in the play, I played H, a goth/punk-world version of Hamlet's Horatio.  The play itself was a kind of re-imagining of Shakespeare's play by Caridad Svich, who starts the play with Ophelia rising out of the water that she drowned in.  Over the course of the play, H and Rude Boy (aka Hamlet) banter and wrestle as they usually do.  It becomes clear that H has feelings for Rude Boy, and when he tries to kiss Rude Boy, Rude Boy rejects H.  It's also worth noting that H engages in BDSM with another character Mina; Rude Boy also expresses disdain for this lifestyle.  On a basic theoretical level, straight boy rejects queer boy because straight boy is not interested in gay sex.  On a higher theoretical level, Rude Boy (played by a straight white boy) is rejecting all forms of queerness (my race, my sexuality, my BDSM practices).  Then, when I beat him up/down in the end of the play, my queer body fights back against Rude Boy's repression and rejection of me.  It was really almost an overwhelming moment when I realized the theory that was loaded richly into my "performance."  And in case there's any doubt in anyone's mind, no, I do not engage and have not engaged in BDSM.  But regardless, even though H wasn't written as a black character or any race-specific character, my black body on stage adds complexity to the theoretical performance.  For some reason, I also feel the need to add that the guy who played Rude Boy is a good friend of mine; none of this theory discussion is directed toward him, though it involves him and his performance.

Also, since I've been using queer a lot in this post, I should explain what I mean.  Queer is an umbrella term for sexual minorities that are not heterosexual, heteronormative, or gender-binary.  Although I have not received any formal education in queer studies, my understanding is that queer was, for a while, rejected as a derogatory term for sexual minorities.  In many academic circles now, however, the term is being reclaimed as an all-inclusive, non-discriminatory term to include all forms and language of sexuality and gender.  Some people (people I know at Mac) even include heterosexuality in the umbrella in the hopes of removing the sexual divide between heterosexuality and "others," or queer people.  Queer, also by dictionary definition, can signify anything that's different from the "norm," which is why I included race as a form of queerness--it's a minority to the white body of Rude Boy.

Well, that's a lot for one post.  Even my brain's on overload right now thinking of it all.  It could just be that I'm hungry though.  Here's another song lyric.

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination.  Living there, you'll be free if you truly wish to be."
-"Pure Imagination," Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory