(This article was originally published in The Harold Times, the Fringe Theatre Festival of Toronto newspaper, on Monday, July 5th, 2010. The Harold Times is a small publication primarily distributed at fringe theatre venues and its main readership is theatre artists and people who have a special interest in alternative live performance. FYI- This piece is not a manifesto. It is a series of reflections.)
13 reflections from an unreal queer artist
by Nina Arsenault
1.
When I see theatre I see almost exclusively queer theatre now. I usually feel uncomfortable waiting for the lights to go down at non-queer shows. I understand that theatre spaces try to be inclusive. Still, I feel stared at and judged. No offense.
2.
I also do not have TV or internet in my home. I found most television programs repellent. The internet would consume my time. I got rid of them two years ago. Occasionally, I rent films.
3.
But, queer performance is mostly what I see. The pieces are usually radically different in form and content. This does not make it “challenging” to experience the works.
4.
I ask myself how to structure a new piece of performance? What is the paradigm for its form? Stylistic qualities? I am already forgetting what normative dramatic forms are. They aren’t what is normal to me anymore.
5.
Not knowing what else to do I work from obsession.
6.
I do not begin making performance to correct a social wrong. I am not trying to make the world a better place. I can not justify my creativity with a simple political statement. I haven’t tried to get an art grant.
7.
I know it is painful not to create. It is painful for my expressions not to be witnessed. It is painful not to have interflow with other creators.
8.
Having no TV or internet has intensified (and rarefied) my need to create and connect.
9.
I recently explored and saw a word based play with a linear structure. A dramatic arch with no digressions. Delineated characters with clear intentions. The characters had their feet firmly on the ground, maintained eye contact while talking with each other and had no generalized anxiety. Everyone so sure of themselves. The play, itself, had also had a singular accessible political message. I was fascinated by it. I was quite surprised the audience could accept this representation of reality as “real.” It was so unreal to me, so shockingly alien.
10.
In a talk-back after the show the audience and charismatic cast joyfully agreed with each other about the meaning(s) of the work. Some audience members offered suggestions about how the work could be changed to offer a political statement they would be even more comfortable with. An artist took notes. This was very affirming.
11.
I stayed at a hotel recently. After two years away from TV I found it mesmerizing. I enjoyed that it told me exactly where to look. What to notice. Where the story was going. What the characters were thinking. The message. The meaning. The score told me what to feel. The images, the pace, the rhythm told me what moments were important, more important, most important. For me, it was a sublime experience of being thought controlled. My moment to moment reality was so focused. Such order was hypnotic. It was a far more compelling experience than theatre that was telling me what to think, although after a few hours I began to resent the manipulation. Because I began to notice the machinations through which I was being controlled I felt my cognitive sophistication was being underestimated. I felt belittled.
12.
Although, I continued to be fascinated by many moments of family dramas, crime shows, hospitals –fragmented disconnected moments of straight actors/characters/people possessing stillness as they spoke. Not fidgeting. Holding eye contact. Their voices were easy-going yet also revealed their emotions. So casually. I want to believe that the way straight people behave in the privacy of their domestic relationships, homes and at work is very advanced. They are incredible performers (when I am not around?)
13.
I began to watch news casters and entertainment-tabloid television. I liked the way these announcers talked even more. I first experienced them as automaton-like. Then, I noticed that these robots seemed more like the real life people that I deal with. More real even than the reality show actors. Their voices illustrate what they are feeling. I also sensed that they are inferring what I should be feeling, what they want me to be feeling. They are so confident, so charming, so buoyant, so joyful that I could find little room for disagreement. I agreed to feel what I should have been feeling, what was charismatically implied I should be feeling. It was very comfortable and perhaps artificial (which is not a bad thing for me.) I am not surprised that I can accept this representation of reality as real.
Nina Arsenault is a writer, theatre maker, media artist, aesthete and transsexual cyborg. Check out her website www.ninaarsenault.com
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