INTRODUCTION
The purpose of this practice led artistic research was to choreograph SALT, a one-woman show, which would serve as an exploration of critical humor in contemporary dance, and develop my perceived, as I like to call it “critically funny body." Through the exploration and evolving of this work, I aimed to push forward and potentially innovate my existing methods of play and decision making, while constructing and deconstructing a comedic, yet critical universe, that could in some way resonate and subvert an aspect of the troubled times we are living in today.
The initial research question:
How can I come to a better understanding of the humorist intentions within art works and how to use that knowledge to improve and empower the critical thoughts I wish to tackle?
Prior to this creation and practice led research, I explored various angles of my artistic practice trying to reaffirm which aspect I was equally enthusiastic about as well as perceived as the most urgent to tackle. While feeling strongly driven to engage with social issues in my works, I wondered around in studies on:
- the grotesque;
- the carnivalesque;
- humor;
- subsequently, took an important detour and fell in love with public space;
- reaffirmed my drive with artistic activism;
- to then, finally, find strongest resonation with the art movement Dadaism, particularly because of their celebration of humor and nonsense, with as means to shake up and subvert against critical issues.
And while curious to understand the argued resurgence of Dadaism, New Dadaism today, I decided for this Avant Garde art movement to accompany and nurture me in my research journey on choreography and critical humor.
Critical humor is a term that I started using myself referring to subversive humor, which speaks about the comedy, as Dadaism also did, that “confronts serious matters, but in a playful manner that fosters creative and critical thinking, and cultivates a desire and skill for recognizing incongruities between our professed ideals and a reality that does not meet those standards.” Kramer, 2015.
Through this journey, questioning, nurturing and potentializing choreography and critical humor from all the delicate angles of the universe I was about to explore and construct;
- I researched about lecture performance – nurturing the format of this work;
- I researched about stress, mental health and zebras nurturing the dramaturgy of this work;
- I researched about Dadaism, humor theories and freedom of speech
- as also listened to hours of pod casts of stand-up comedians speaking about their craft, reappreciated the craft of slapstick comedy, interviewed a professional theatre, circus and street clown artist, went to see live stand-up comedy in Porto – Portugal, all ways to nurturing my awareness of critical humour.
This Research Report - Exegesis, aims to make you travel, in Chapter 1, to the explanation of the title of this creation SALT. In Chapter 2 I share my artistic practice, the period leading up to this creation, particularly from of the moment the main character of this piece, an animal humanoid zebra figure, came to the surface. Chapter 3 consists of a broad consideration and contextualization on Dadaism and New Dadaism that allowed me to zoom into art & humour in times of crisis. Chapter 4 will unravel the dramaturgical subjects and playfield of this work: stress/mental health, lecture performance and zebras. In Chapter 5, I will share my methods of play while diving into this universe. Chapter 6 unravels the development of my understanding of humor and freedom of speech. Chapter 7 will note how the premier, and being in front of the audience first time, evolved. I will then in Chapter 8, make a critical reflection, to in Chapter 9 finally share my Conclusion.
As you have noticed, I made you travel all the way to the bottom of this Research Report page, where I would like to invite you to follow and climb with me, all the way up the red zig-zag line in order to reach at each extend one of the chapters mentioned above.
Did you know that zebras, when in the stressful circumstance of being chased by a lion, their flight response is to run in a zig-zag line as a tactique to confuse their hungry predator.
While being high on anxiety myself during this journey, many times I found myself wanting to run away also, yet as it turns out, I seem to have happened to run in a zig-zag line myself, having reached this destination now.
Through the deconstruction of this research and rehearsal period, practice led research and the construction of this Exegesis, I aim to share with you how this nonlinear, personally stressful journey evolved and how I managed to push myself for opening my inner raw curiosities into dialogues, embrace chaos, trust my instinct, celebrate the unknown and came to decision making throughout.
It was a journey of true surrendering.
. . .
Chapter 1.
SALT
The months leading up to the start of my second year of COMMA co-creation of movement master of Arts, I grew stronger aware of my, somewhat, impulsive, yet furious, nature while throwing myself, often uninvited, in the midst of, possibly none of my business, heated discussions about sensitive topics.
Questioning the same, I started connecting this essential aspect of my being to salt and the way I like to throw it into, and in others people food, so passionately. And somehow, I started connecting this metaphor, also as to how I also perceive stand-up comedians to be driven and tackling their craft. Hungry, convinced, slightly irritated, ambitious, strongly driven and longing.
And while giving this symbolical way of self-addressing some consideration, at the age of 44, I finally became quite amused by the following - always evoluting - conclusion of myself:
I am salt.
Not a diamond,
Not a silver fox,
Not a good old red Porto wine,
No, salt.
You can also of course, instead of declaring that, say that I am basically, a pain in the ass. In the same manner as some declare certain critical comedy to be annoying.
And surely that is at least partially true but, since the moment I have had that salty reference in my mind, I have grown quite fond of that somewhat poetic and metaphorical way of humoristic and self-referencing.
- both salt and humor have the potential to hurt, but heal,
- both salt and humor have enhancing power and characteristics, and
- You must be careful to measure the right components of both to achieve the most effective taste, or laughter.
Salt, because I have sweat, and laughed, like a maniac to come to where I am today.
Salt, and imagine all of those salty tears I dropped while doing so.
Did you know that salt, in many ancient civilizations, symbolically stands for purification? According to Vastu Shastra, a pinch of salt in the house can work as a catalyst in removing negativity from your home.
The history of salt traces back to as far as 6050 BC, it used to be part of religious offerings and to preserve mummies in Egypt. In Japan, salt is considered sacred and as part of everyday life, believed to be purgative and a preserver of purity. In Roman times, and throughout the Middle Ages, salt was a valuable commodity, also referred to as "white gold." Soldiers in the Roman army were sometimes paid with salt instead of money. Salt made it possible to preserve food as also make it tastier and, while it literally is one of the most common substances on the surface of Earth, it's really important for survival and life in the world.
While too much salt increases the risk of high blood pressure and heart diseases, a decreased amount of sodium intake can prevent many deaths.
Animals living in wildlife get their natural intake of salt through the elements of their natural habitat, animals in zoos, such as zebras, need extra salt sticks as a supplement to their unnatural diet,
in order to be able to survive.
. . .
Oficina Zero artists edition 2022 in POTERE // Integrated Assignment // Year 1 // COMMA
// March 2022
The tragicomic story of a premier // echoes of a restless mind
- I wrote this part as if a vomit, in three hours. It has 3000 words. This is my most honest description of what happened on that famous day. But it is a vomit, and I didn’t allow myself to clean up the same.
25 may of 2023.
The presentation of my final performance, SALT, the supposed flourishing of my journey on trying to be smart about subversive comedy.
SALT is a one woman show that I initially intended to perform in my birth country, the Netherlands and in a place 15 minutes away by car from where I was born, for the first time in the past 20 years. But, throughout the process, I needed to accept reality of multitasking I wasn’t able to respond to, and invited Sara Santarvés, a very talented young dancer and performer from Spain, to take my place as an interpreter, and let me focus on all the other aspects involved, that, as my mother says, I should not be acting so difficult about.
Sara is excited because it is her first time performing in the Netherlands yet, on this premier day, she shows an over confidence that everything will turn out great, which, as a wanna be optimist but essentially pessimist, makes me worried. I tell myself that this is probably the next generation of artists and dancers right now: not as stressed as their ancestors, not freaking out and going over the material over and over again before finally presenting this fresh universe to its deserved audience. Sara is relaxed, and I am trying to be happy that the next generation knows better. A friend of mine, and amazing performer, said that her pre-performance nerves disappeared as soon as she had her first child; I remember performing for the first time since I had my son some years after I had received that wonderful and hopeful information, and as a shocking surprise to myself, I was extremely nervous.
The day prior to the premier had been a chaotic day, and I had surprised myself with my calm behavior. Sometimes I have this, when things are extreme I zone to baseline and act Zen. Just like my mother, when we were in the car driving home from Christmas Eve in 1993, with my parents in the front, and me and my brothers in the back of our Volvo. The temperature below zero in combination with snow had made the roads incredibly slippery. At a certain point, our car just started slipping around, amid the highway, and while we were turning back and forward 90 degrees, as we later counted four times, we could notice other cars doing the same, as if we were in some kind of incredibly expensive attraction park. But at that moment, when we all understood that we were probably going to crash into other cars, my mother, famous for her loud voice and an ambassador of screaming pedagogics, was silent. I might have never experienced such a silent moment before in my life. And in retrospect, I find that quite concerning, because apparently our first instinctive reaction to a moment where there is a good probability that we will get hurt, we didn’t tell each other how much they were loved, no, we just shut up. We all came out without a scratch and were granted time to improve.
That’s how I was the day before the premier. Managing the buildup of my own set design, giving support to my peers who, as like myself, had been scheduled two hours of set up, meeting the technician Maarten van Dorp who was in charge of setting up the stage, lights, projectors, microphones, boxes, wires, props, while we communicated and spaced our dancers, reviewed the light plan, assured the soundtrack and do a run.
I love last minute difficulties; I have had a couple of happenings in my life that I was proud of my reaction and behavior while in enhanced moments of pressure. One of my proudest moments must have been while dancing in Conny Jannsen Danst, the production Vuil & Glass, a site specific performance. It was the third or fourth performance, and my parents had come to watch. The day before, three of my good friends were there to come watch me, I say good, because they were the only ones who ever told me honestly about my true value in Dance. After the performance, their non Das Arts feedback was that I was looking all the time around, and so insecure. But Conny had told us the day before that we should look more around to reassure we were dancing at the same pace as the others. I find myself preparing for another performance, my parents are in the audience, and I am contemplating how I can look around, but also not. The performance is in the entrance hall of a big disposal/trash factory. It is an impressive space, and Conny has used all corners of it, we even use the big entrance door. By the way, did you know that you can get used to any kind of smell, no matter how bad, except for the smell of a dead body? That’s what we heard that week leading up to the premier, from the people working in that place. I didn’t have so much to dance in the performance. It is logical probably; I was a apprentice, who looks too much around. Midway through the performance, there happens the most unfortunate of things, Yuri, Conny´s jewel dancer, crashes into another dancer and is laying down backstage on the floor with his head bleeding. Things happen quick, but I see that the performance is continuing, and understand that if Yuri does not stand up quickly, there will be an important empty place in the part where there are five duets dancing at the same time. I wasn’t normally in that part, I had been rehearsing it a bit in the back of the studio. And at that moment, I decide to just run in. My colleagues excited and supportive to see me in Yuri’s place, as I dance his part with Inken, she talks me through the dance reassuring I can accompany. This is not a rehearsal: “yeah, that´s it, now go right, left, ok down, my leg, yes! Jump! Run away, I´m coming, watch out, and flyyyyyyyyyyyy”. My parents after the show were delighted, “You danced so much! And that ambulance that came into the space through that back doooor, how amazing!” Conny was also very content, but she didn’t offer me a contract after. I still don’t know why the performance didn’t just stop.
But tonight, I am in Conny´s house, again! After 20 years, I am back to where I left a hero, without a contract.
Maarten looks very bad. He is in physical pain because there is a big problem with his knee, and he is pushed in further mental distress because he feels incredibly overloaded with all the logistics he needs and wants to respond to. I am Zen. I don’t like to give people a tough time, and I can really empathize with people feeling stressful, my performance is about that. So, I tell Maarten that everything is going to be fine. I tell him to take a break, he hasn’t had lunch yet. And when he comes back refreshed, we set up my work and are excited about the result. The lights look great together with the zebra crossing, the grass mat at the door and the other objects. While running the work he tries to instantly create the light plan, and I hear the other technicians who are helping and are sitting in the audience seats watching the rough draft of the performance, laughing very loudly. That is good. This is supposed to be a funny piece.
So, this has settled me in for the day of the premier. I am also feeling confident, not as much as Sara, but I am calm and have time to buy fruits, nuts, and sweets for everyone present. I printed the 50 programs in the morning, and the FPDD, an important document for two other peers. I take my time to review the spacing with Sara, but I decide to not give any further corrections or reminders, she has heard enough. She just must settle in and allow this journey to become also truly her own. I can be a bit of a control freak.
While asked by my peers if I can be the one talking with the videographer that will come to film our work, I talked with her and her apprentice through every performance about the placing of the cameras, the angles, and the timing of the performances during the night. After the whole explanation, the videographer asks what will be served for dinner, because they will be taping during that period. Now, I am originally Dutch, so I can totally understand her question as also, of course, I am a big defender of employer's rights but, having lived in Portugal for the last 15 years, dinner is served, especially in the weekends, after 21h. So, it is a surprising issue. But I make sure I act in what I believe, good employers' circumstance. One of the technicians, the one with the great sense of humor, tells me that there is some Roti Chicken left in the fridge from the day before. And as I am running to the kitchen ten minutes before the first performance, I am happy to see that there are enough left for two hungry videographers, and make sure to put it aside with their names on top of it.
Running back to the theatre, I can see that the audience is already aligned for the first performance. Mine is the third. I join Sara backstage, give her a big hug, and forget to give her the Toi toi toi that I screamed to my mother to buy and bring me straight before the performance this morning.
I am nervous now. Zen is gone. Stomach is bubbling.
From behind the side door, I can hear that in the second performance, there seems to be a party going on. The audience is screaming and cheering. I hope I can consider this a good warm up for mine.
Once I was asked to warm up the performance of a blues band, when I was working in Dancetheatre Nurnberg. It was a concert by a good friend of mine, and he had shown me how in blues, they have these speakers that come on stage before, a bit like standup comedians maybe, and they cheer up the crowd, having them all pumped up before the band comes on. I had watched those videos many times, and my friend was sure I would do great. All I needed to do was just to scream to the audience: "EVERYBODY HAPPYYYYYYY! We were all very excited to be able to welcome to the stage today…" And I forgot the name of the band... I blocked. Totally blocked. I forgot the name of the people I was invited by to announce them to their enthusiastic audience. The face I remember the most in the crowd, was of another good friend of mine who, while I was blacking out on stage and having what must have been 30 seconds' silence, also froze with me. We just stared into each other's eyes. That is the second most silent moment of my life.
Back to my premier. The audience keeps on sending out amused sounds from the other side of the door and then, all of a sudden, we finally are set for my performance, all the audience leaves the space for us to set up SALT.
Set up goes smoothly and quickly. I make sure all is double checked, and when Sara sets in, I say the audience can come back into space. When walking to my place, I see another person sitting on my seat in front of the sound, next to Maarten. It is Rodrigo. I had already seen him in the afternoon, he is the today hired sound technician, but he wasn’t there yesterday, and he didn’t tell me he would be sitting in my place, to run my own soundtrack that he didn’t check.
He is actually an ex-student of mine, who after finishing his studies with me, continued his studies in Codarts and after having graduated as a dancer, also started working as a technician. I know he is smart in technical stuff. When he was 17 and under my supervision in the dance school where I worked, he hacked the school informatics system and managed to enter it, a story I will never be able to tell about myself.
I am the opposite of technical and technological. I get nervous from the power button already. Essential information that I would like you to settle in, as you appreciate this online research catalogued version of SALT that I created all by myself. You might be unimpressed with how interactive I made this all be, but doing this for me, is like a fish trying to walk on land, or a bungee jumper trying to jump off a low building, or cat trying to attack an elephant. You know, my ten-year-old son knew earlier than me how to make a power point. I hope this information settles in well as you are contemplating the value of this work.
So, Rodrigo, the sound technician that knows much better then me how to deal well with technological equipment, quickly is hired as my sound technician button pusher. I will give him the signals for when to change or stop tracks to play. Not having to touch a computer is one less worry for me.
Sara is sitting on her place, and I see the audience walking in, first my parents, then two of my very tall uncles. Even for Dutch, they stand out of the crowd. I am touched they come to see my final performance, it is truly kind, but I am a little bit concerned that they will enjoy and appreciate it.
I sincerely am worried if this performance will go well, the danger of playing with an evidently ridicule image of a human with a zebra mask, is that it can quickly become not much more than just a bad joke if not executed in delicate manner. All I worked for this period was to travel beyond that. That joke that is not just a joke but pushes further critical thinking.
As I am contemplating this, I see Sara who is sitting on the sokke/lecture table with the zebra mask on her head, and she is waving at the audience. What is she doing? I look again, she is waving to the audience that is entering and sitting down and looking at her, and she is also making peace signs. I got nervous because I thought that was not what we had agreed. We spoke about, when the audience enters, you calmly sit on the table, and you shift your position a couple of times, looking calmly around you, rather an introspective mood. In the last rehearsals before the performance this worked perfectly. Now she is a bit over the top. We can call this in retrospect also a lack of leadership from Elisabeth Lambeck, that needed to reassure her interpreter that she really knew what I intended.
But Sara, she is such a generous interpreter, that she will always be concerned with handing you out new ideas, running just the extra mile. It is not illogical, she has literally been problem solving with me throughout the last week, brainstorming to last minute decision making that I felt was really needed to get this work up to the level it was worthy of. Sara is in the state of mind of problem solving, but she should not be solving any problems anymore, everything is fixed, it is a done deal, but I forgot to tell to remember her that. The last audience walks in, it is my older brother. He is a tax lawyer but was supposed to become a brilliant filmmaker. I take his opinion very highly. He doesn’t like contemporary dance at all though.
As everybody finally sits down, the performance starts.
“Don’t press play immediately” I whisper to Rodrigo.
“The sound, for now, will stay the same..”
Sara gets off her table and starts walking around to throw the mindfulness dice.
During rehearsal I told her it is funny if she walks once maybe a little bit sexy. Now she is walking sexy all the time. Zebra-humanoid is acting like a diva, she came out of the closet, but I wish she would be just a little bit shyer.
Then the performance goes reasonably. I am feeling the nerves quite high though because I am aware that because the energy of the beginning was differently pitched than I had intended to, the audience is on a different track. She starts with an important scene in which she has to start doing a laughing exercise. A difficult moment because Sara, needs to release, bounce, naturally led sound come out of her bounce, release her diagram and then smoothly slip out any type of giggle and exploring the physical and vocal act of laughter. We have been trying to find ways to reassure the right feel, and at times she manages to find the right softness needed for this moment, the nervousness challenging her to calm her voice down. The performance continues, it is going reasonable.
Another important moment, a penis joke.
Had to put it in, I read an academic article about penis jokes a long time ago and although I can’t find it back, it had something to do with a penis joke combined with a highly sensitive political issue, and how the standup comedian in that moment managed to surrender all of its audience, the part of the audience that come for the easy laugh and loves penis jokes, and the part of the audience that wants to be challenged and likes to laugh about critical issues.
My penis joke is unfortunately not political. Zebra is taking a zip off her bottle of water, after the laughter, as if watering her mouth before starting her speech.
But then, as the bottle goes deep into the throat of the mask, reaching the mouth of the human hidden under, it looks as if the zebra is giving an oral stimulation to the water bottle. And as any dirty mind would, she explores that idea just a little, and starts laughing again.
It works, people are laughing generously, even, one of my colleagues daughter, as she later told, thought it was incredibly funny to see the zebra drinking water so passionately.
Laughing gives confidence to the performer. I experienced a couple of times performing funny performances or scenes in front of different audiences, and laughter is addictive. Once laughter has been your response, you kind of don’t want anything else. But I had audiences super silent at moments that in other countries the audience was breaking the house. Germany is my favorite performing country. Lisbon is the worst. From personal experience… No, programmers are the worst, it takes a circus or a brilliant political penis joke to make them move.
I am satisfied with the delicacy of the dissociative body that Sara is managing.
Her energy remains a little bit high, but that is normal, it is a premier, and she has a lot of last week decision making to deal with.
We almost come to a scene I am very fond of. It landed perfectly during the last week of rehearsal.
It is a scene where Sara sits on the bench and speaks about how zebras sleep very light, while standing, because of safety. Only when there are many other zebras around, one might lay down. I link this story to the insomnia story of the Goldberg variations. How J.S. Bach composed the Goldberg variations, to be performed by Johann Gottlieb Goldberg, in the antechamber of Count Kaiserling, while he was having insomnia nights, wouldn’t you have want to be there to see that happening?
Maarten, at that moment, designed the light for the first time in a spot, only Zebra humanoid and the bench are now visible. Then, there will appear the only extended silent scene in which we see the zebra humanoid in dissociative physicality changing positions to sleep, as if having an insomnia night. This is one of the few moments of the performance that the audience has space to breathe, and really falls into an extended image, while listening to a calm and soothing heartbeat. But before this can happen, as soon as Sara is lying on the couch/bed, the light goes on and the music for the next track is put to play. I shockingly look next to me whispering sharp but not hearable for the audience sitting 50cm away from me as I can:
“No no, Maarten, not yet not yet! Rodrigo, no stop, stop, go to the other track!”
And as they are pushing many buttons of the computer because it is not so easy to go back, I see Sara problem solving as she jumps along with the music into the next scene, where she is going bungee jumping. She is screaming her text, which is correct, but 5 minutes to early. They manage to find the button, and the music shifts to the scene before, but Sara has her zebra mask on, and I think she doesn’t realize that they went back to the former track because she is screaming. I look at it for five long painful seconds and then tell the technicians that they had better go forward again with the performance, next track…should I have stopped the performance?
“Is it bad?” – asks Rodrigo when Sara is finally aligned with the music,
“We only erased five minutes of my final performance” – I say.
We don’t speak, just look, at Zebra.
I can’t be angry with Rodrigo; he was not there yesterday. I can't be angry with Maarten; he was in profound pain yesterday and still today, and he had too many tasks to tackle. He has done a wonderful job with the stage; I really like it.
But the rest I see in Zen mode. I am silent.
The rest of the performance continues. Sara saves herself very well, and there are still some beautiful moments. In the end though, Maarten forgets the order of lights that he needs to black out. Instead of blacking out everything around Sara first and then Sara;
Zebra humanoid is the first that he makes disappears,
and then the zebra crossing,
and then the bench,
and then the lecture stand,
and then the pile of tube lights,
and then,
while we still hear Sara singing a Spanish lullaby,
we see there is only one light left,
on the green grass foot mat at the right back door of the stage.
...
Everybody is looking at it.
What is she trying to say with this?
Is she trying to say that we should always wipe our feet when we come home?
Does she want to tell us we need to become more natural?
Wiping feet on a green grass foot mat releases stress?
Is there going to grow a green flower out of that grass matt now?
What do you think? Ever had a premier that went so tragically?
At least I don’t have a professional video taping of this performance, because the videographer forgot to check if her apprentice put her camera on the right focus, which it didn’t because they did not have much time to set up, because they were eating their Roti Chicken.
I am profoundly proud of Sara and hope she will continue this journey with me as I aim to project SALT into the future now.
She has been profoundly generous, a very talented young performer and collaborator, and even though the story that I am telling here might not reveal the most flattering moments of her journey with me,
I hope we still have many more years to come to work together,
and laugh about this wonderful day,
that we were trying to tell something incredibly special
about
a green grassed foot mat.
(next research?)