Mistaken, a totally mistaken identity!
07 Nov 2009 3 Comments
in Theatre
“Being lesbian isn’t negotiable. And don’t even get started on how sexy it is to be with me or to watch me with another woman!” says Kali to Steve, her date, who has been set up by her brother, Rashid. Kali has dated every other “Hindu bloke in England” until her “brother got so desperate that he set her up with a cowboy!”
Sharon E Cooper’s ‘The Mistaken Identity,’ mostly mistaken to be “a play that one has come across somewhere and just can’t remember the playwright”, has been chosen to feature at the Rangashankara’s Festival of Comedies this year, for a platform performance. And for the very first time, young Bangalorean directors have been given a platform to stage these performances. A very bold script at the outset, this appears to have been intentional by the organisers – to let youngsters handle a subject this liberal because that they would best liberate the humour in such scripts. Good thing, the older lot would’ve cringed to portray oh-come-on-dont-you-do-it-too kinda things, would have unnecessarily edited the most crucial details and recklessly moderated the play to meet the tastes of the audiences. Trust the younger lot to treat such subjects in all its rawness – rightly, should be so for open air performances. This would become a classic foor-in-mouth scenario should I come across a non-hypocratical, liberal, courageous ‘old’ bloke(you may add the ‘young’ mates also, for that matter).
Now, watching the lesbian-on-a-date play is one thing and acting the ‘oh-so-controversial-gutsy’ part is quite another. Obviously extremely thrilled to play Kali, I have been trying it all out – attempting to arouse feelings in me for women, struggling to be put off by good-looking men, believing in Michelle-the woman of my life, being inconsolably uncomfortable with Steve – all of these and a tad few more, to get right under the skin of the character. Not that I wear it on myself when I am ‘out’ of the character but its a mighty trying misery to resist a breath-taking looker passing by, if one strictly went the Method way.
While waiting at the edge of it, I am extremely eager to spill out my unknown energies to so many known faces!
Kali: Do you even know what it feels like?! How would you?”
Steve: No, I wouldn’t.
Living it up in seven days
23 Oct 2009 7 Comments
in Theatre
I set out on a mission, to a dreamland called Heggodu. The small, little, unassuming village in the heart of the pristine green Saagara, near Shimoga. My mission was not so much about criticising the art on display but about what art does to artists. It was also an attempt to make the best use of the opportunity and get these renowned artistes talking – up, close and personal at the Ninasam Samskrutika Shibira. Ofcourse, the ardous task of tailing them, stalking them, dropping hints about why I was disposing such queer behaviour and then finally netting them to sheepishly admit to the pressures of my profession, was a mission in itself . But what came of these cloak and dagger efforts, is worth laying your life for.
Contributing to the brilliance of this experience, first of all, is the bafflingly modest amount of Rs1200 that you shell out chuckling, for as many as 7 days. You pay so much so that you live in their campus, devour their Malnad cuisine, be assured of classic entertainment every day (mostly evenings but the critiques passed in the morning during discussions lent a new dimension to entertainment itself and these memories lingered until several days later). Besides the food and entertainment, you are well assured of fresh, detoxifying clean air. But its the heady artiness about the place I think, that the air around Ninasam is steeped in tobacco rings. Those who quit, those who want to quit, those who are never going to quit and those who want to try it and quit later, are all seen puffing tobacco rings, while also periodically staining the walls red with pan and basically heightening the (in)toxication in the ambience.
There were toxins, intoxicants, heart-rendering theatricals, soul-stirring liltations, moon in all its fullness, cool breeze in all its vivacity and performers, who competed with their art. Relationships didnt matter, new faces and unknown identities didnt bother, languages and expressions didnt hinder communication.Nothing was an impediment when art was the sole medium of communication. Everything was just sending you into a tizzy. It was like you were on a constant high.
And my heart fluttered everytime I saw an actor/painter/singer perform, urging me to abandon my assignment for just this one time and simply sit back and enjoy, and simply just give in to the pleasures of being a mere viewer, a connoisseur and a keen passerby. But my conscience (mighty, bloody conscience) kept eating into me. My bargain was infected when soon after the performances, I knew I had to revert back to my business. When all I wanted to do was hug the artiste and stifle him/her for that stupendous performance, I, the conscientious(!!!) journo had to raise intellectual questions surrounding art and its components, reducing the butterflies in my stomach to bugs buzzing in my head. I then began drawing a few conclusions, some assumptions and several theories about artists, more than the art.
It came to my realisation that art, in all its deportment, appears to be the gift of the few. While these few elite are steeped in art, do the masses peep over standing at its periphery, I wondered.
A couple of hundreds of litterateurs, actors, playwrights, painters, thinkers, philosophers, singers, dancers and a bunch of unpretentious connoisseurs from across the state, the country and a few from across the world had congregated to zealously lap up the essence of the festival. And here I was, stern on my assignment, wondering if the masses were out of it! Who are the masses here? Who are the intellectuals that have become the masses here? Twisted propositions haunted until more crucial events blazed before my eyes.
I learnt that for some, it was their tenth, for others, their twentieth, and for a few – their very first succulent feel of the Ninasam Samskruthika Shibira at Ninasam. I kept noting how an arty crowd adds a million bucks to its repertoire of art and culture fare with every performance, with every articulation in a discussion and with every new idea that makes a fleeting appearance in the mind.
But what joyful bliss this comprised – living together, singing, dancing, sharing poetry with one another and generally celebrating the spirit of life, while completely cutting off from the outside world, atleast at the outset. Predominantly, the relationship between the enlightened (the audience) and those who enlighten (the artistes) through the medium of (good) art, seemed to be taut with abstractness – the sensibilities involved here being inaccessible to the masses (for God’s sake) – who are out of reach of this secluded little village. That was very well the intention: To keep the pretentious arty intellectuals out of the loop.
KV Akshara, the director of Ninasam: “Conducting cultural activities in a little village like this is advantageous because there are no distractions. The participants and the audiences are forced to stay put in this campus throughout the festival unlike in Bangalore, where the participants would arrive for their performance and leave soon after. Besides, the expenditure incurred for the festival here is reduced by a hundred times, if compared to Bangalore. People offer to work voluntarily here – the whole community is involved. Nearly 80% of the work is unpaid.” Although not planned this way, it turned out to be so and became a conscious effort eventually, he added. Doesn’t it bother them that Ninasam, brimming with cultural activities does not always reach out to the urban populace, where the exposure can be manifold, I forced this on him: “We have deliberately shunned the media glare for the sake of our art. We have not organised a single press conference. We believe in word of mouth and are very happy with the response,” came the reply. Artistes of this sensibility would ofcourse shun the media! What were you expecting? That they swarm around media houses pleading for publicity and then, the scribes, peering through their microscopic hawk rimmed glasses, pick up the humblest and most successful, nicest and most approachable, the most well-read, the msot talented and the most good-looking artiste to ramble on a coupla pages?! Du-uh!
COMING BACK, one may wonder if confinement to a remote village stunts their exposure and interaction with other artistes around the world. But that appears to be the challenge they have passionately undertaken and are successful in dealing with and are even more successfully alluring people from all over. But when they do reach out to the masses, as a part of their Thirugaata, do they cater to the tang of the masses? Significantly, the motive of storytelling here is sheer entertainment – devoid of any arrogance associated with the status of conveying a strong social message. Message bearing plays, they believe, can be counter-productive because ego, politics and arrogance is played up.
So to speak, is critical appreciation of great art confined to those who make it in remote places like Heggodu? S R Vijayashankar, critic of Kannada literature points out: “Art has a strong influence of literature, where the meaning dominates. But remember, feeling is independent of meaning. Several meanings may emerge but they are only contextual. We are a pluralistic Indian society in a democratic set up. Opinions and varied meanings are inevitable.” The problem of literature, he said, was the struggle that one underwent to understand the meaning. The meaning obssessed mean crusaders may take a hike! Understand that meaning is necessary within a body – locating life within a body is necessary, and an artiste does exactly that – creating life as an experience, while being careful about not compromising on the art or himself, who is a part of the society, Vijayashankar explains. Can agree more on that. But that seems like a huge responsibility on the part of the artiste? Aint that stressful, dude?!
No wonder they turn into melancholic loners. How then do they achieve such impressive, tight rope balance between art and social responsibility that requires remarkable dexterity? Vijayashankar explains: “Melancholy is only a state of mind that fluctuates to happiness. This rotation creates a constant churning – resulting in creation, which is best achieved in isolation. Isolation translates to personal time for introspection, where questions are posed on one’s position in life, asking – why me? This turns into an experience that in turn transforms into art.” Waaaah!
This also translates into the Gandhian philosophy of making one’s own place of birth meaningful. Ninasam, the dream of KV Subbana’s, the founder apparently has stemmed from this philosophy.
Its only but human that after such intense churning, the product becomes one’s proud possession and parting with it is painful. Remember pride, possessiveness and ego – all intrinsic to the human being, living, existing. Divakar S, a writer clarifies: “Art is criticism – a fantasy of how life should be, depending on life’s experiences. Amongst the masses, there is always a need to understand everything. This arises from the popularity of mass education, where intellectuals are believed to be isolating themselves from the centre, depriving the crowd of scholarly experiences. It’s the arrogance of the harbingers of mass education – to want to penetrate and simplify art.” Popular entertainment exploits, presenting popular knowledge in a sentimental way, Divakar elucidates, while art explains and one needs patience to discern it. Lesser the patience, cruder the art, cruder the artist, cruder the receiver.
Is such patience then the invaluable business of only the elite few? Albeit this paltry number, they prove crucial for the representation of a civilization. “Art lends pulse to living, it is the only path to enlightenment. Trading and business does not. This explains why artists are considered to be elite,” says Sundar Sarukkai, Professor, School of Humanities, National Institute of Advanced Studies, IISc. “There are a zillion cultural activities happening in Bangalore every day. Amongst a gamut of activities for which people have no time, Bangalore, the urban business centre has an enormous space for culture too. How accessible or affordable are they to the rural lot?” Gotcha! Dont make a porridge of petty leaves, let the porridge be, no?
The act of confinement(to a place/community) to shoulder the responsibility of representing a civilization essentially becomes a cultural engagement that goes on to define the lifestyles of these very communities. 
“Culturally driven art in India, today, is threatened by consumerism. The problem is of excessively accessible art, that has begun to threaten the artist. Artists are in fact, a worried lot. What’s the complaint about inaccessibility?” questions Prasanna, former director of NSD and Rangayana and the brain behind Desi store in Bangalore. For an artist, it is important to “switch off” and “he has to isolate himself from the society and fierce bombardment of information that corrupts creativity.” Artists associated with intellectualism are then a result of constant engagement in “transcending the realities, not being trapped in it.” For God’s sake, stop penalising artistes with material queries.
The hardwork of intuition is the key word for an artiste here, not the incomprehendible jargons and redundant rhetorics. Daniel Goldman, director, Tangram Theatre, London, a participant at the cultural festival in Ninasam explains what an artist does with his art – what he does with theatre: “An artiste always has an audience in mind. His works mean to establish a chord with the audiences. The work is not produced in isolation while the ideation might have been in isolation.” The struggle to get as close to reality as possible looms large and “rests hugely on intuition.” “Artists are constantly in a dialogue with the outer world, even as they are isolated. They are isolated since they have a lot of time, where they keep seeking answers to existential issues. A continuous association with reality, learning the truths behind it and transcending it causes intellectualisation –sensitivity and perceptibility is thus heightened,” he illuminates.
“A society consumes art that in turn reflects society. There is a huge web of relationships established. An artist establishes a relationship with his audiences with the act of story-telling, which forms the basis of the growth of a civilization,” Jehan Manekshaw, trainer of professional actors, Mumbai at Ninasam, says. The Brechtian alienation effect can then restrict itself to the theatre.
Why then does the common man sense alienation from artistes? Why is this 
pertinent question raised impertinently over and over again? “Understanding life in all its complexities is not easy. Internalising life’s experiences is perpetual hard work. To embrace art for a profession and not just for a hobby causes existential problems. How many can get out of their comfort zones?” Yatish, member of Thirugaata, Ninasam, throws light. “Life is brimming with art. Grab it, ignore it, hunt it, pursue it, its up to you to develop that sense.” Point taken.
They say..