This article is republished from ARTouch. Read the original article on 6 February 2024. This article has been edited and shortened with slight modifications to enhance the readability for readers of Taiwan Insight. For the full version and production photos, please see the original article.
Written by Charles Lee; translated into English by Chee-Hann Wu.
Image credit: Tainan Cultural Center by 愛勃索得K / Flickr, license: CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Theatre sustainability—Why not start from the “theatre-centric discourse”
The National Theater and Concert Hall (NTCH), which has been in operation for more than 35 years, has been replacing its equipment to save energy over the past decade and has been moving toward a people-centered “inclusive theatre” since 2016. In 2022, the year following the launch of NTCH’s “Year of Sustainability,” NTCH officially joined the European Union-supported Sustainable Theatre Alliance for a Green Environmental Shift, becoming the only Asian venue among the 14 international theatres invited. In doing so, NTCH introduced the Theatre Green Book and presented the Alliance’s first experimental play, A Play for the Living in a Time of Extinction, which challenged how international co-productions can be realized through a zero-travel, self-powered, low-energy consumption program. The international co-production was developed through the execution of the local team to create a narrative of Taiwan that discusses sustainability through theatre production.
One year after the production was presented (2022), Taishin Arts Awards nominator Wu Sih-Fong looked back at the production in the online magazine of the National Culture and Arts Foundation and asked, “Instead of asking what sustainable theatre is, how can the theatre reverse the global injustice of sustainability?” After reading this article, Sih-Fong’s points prompted me to reflect further on the possible paths of “theatre sustainability”: On the one hand, he criticizes the production as reflecting a “‘theatre-centric’ logic of ‘Western-Asian’ domination,” but I found that the theatre in question here is the one that can precisely anchor the boundaries of our discussion on theatre sustainability—as a place where performances take place, not about performance, play, or theatre troupe, but rather as infrastructure that hosts works of performing arts, as a public construction project that mediates between national governance, urban development, and capital flows, and as a large building that functions as stage and auditorium. On the other hand, Sih-Fong’s skepticism about developing an “Anthropocene Theatre Aesthetics” makes me wonder what that aesthetic might look like, and what new insights it might bring to our notions of theatre.
With this in mind, I look back on my observations in the second half of last year (2023), and re-read the performing arts productions curated by the two theatre venues in northern and southern Taiwan for the arts festivals, in an attempt to explore the proposition of theatre sustainability.
Whose era of extinction is it when we ask about the ocean?
The curator of last year’s Taipei Arts Festival (2023), River Lin, used the title “Dancing Ecosystems” to reflect on the life and existence of oceans, lands, cities, communities, and all living beings, and to explore their symbiotic relationship and dependence on those who are born/have become human beings through art.
With the above curatorial intent, the Taipei Performing Arts Center (TPAC) staged the performance art piece Ocean Island Mine, which dedicates the Center for World Austronesia and Indigenous Peoples’ cosmology to the melting of icebergs. On Plaza Sirius in front of TPAC, Australian-Tongan artist Latai Taumoepeau and his partner Taliu Aloua drag a shovel, one by one, to move the larger-than-human pillars of ice from one end to the other. Meanwhile, Taiwanese artist Ciwas Tahos reverses the shoveled ice, holding it up, moving it back, and then laying it flat on the ground until the ice melts in the high, tight grip and drips onto the chest. The three, dressed in blue jumpsuits, are collaborating on a performative practice meant to reflect the effects of extreme climate in the context of melting icebergs, as well as the irreversible damage that major mining companies’ deep-sea ventures in the Pacific Ocean are doing to global species. But the evening of August 26 was unexpectedly cool in Taipei, and the giant tower of crushed ice did not melt as expected, so the show officially ended after two hours with a round of applause from Latai.
A fellow artist who saw Ocean Island Mine with me complained about their disgust at being lectured when they decided to leave early, saying sarcastically, “The most unsustainable thing about this show is where the oversized ice came from, and the worst thing is that the cleaning crew was forced to work overtime to clean up the water that was puddling in front of the entrance to the venue.” A similar discussion took place at another piece related to sustainability by TPAC, Sun & Sea, where a comment on the TPAC’s Facebook post questioned where the white sand that covered the stage came from, and where it would be dumped on the soon-to-be-ravaged beach after the show. In this way, the theatre has become a hub for meeting different viewpoints around the world. It is particularly noteworthy that the audience was resisting a kind of textbook-style guided reading of the plays, and instead consciously maintained a detached vision to verify and check the consumption and movement of the material and energy involved in the productions.
In the piece, which inquires about the ocean with no visible ocean in it, the audience is invited to remotely think about the vast waters of the island outside the theatre, and these indirect interpretations and questions express the resistance of being forced to participate in the artists’ imaginative projects. Therefore, as an island nation surrounded by the sea, the audience of Taiwan seems to be struggling with how to cope with the embarrassment of being threatened by the value of sustainability, and then try to find an alternative solution that is relevant to their own experience with the ocean, in order to talk about the extinction of the era that “we” see in the field of vision.
Whose era of extinction–celebrating its birth by humming an elegy?
This year (2024) marks not only the 400th anniversary of the founding of Tainan, but also the 40th anniversary of the official establishment of the Tainan Municipal Cultural Center (TMCC). In last year’s (2023) 39th anniversary of TMCC, curator Chow Ling-Chih used the theme of “Revisit a Stream under the City” to revisit the headwaters of Tainan’s Bamboo Stream (Zhuxi or Tik-khe), where the TMCC and Barclay Memorial Park are located, and re-examine the landscapes that have changed under the modernization and urbanization, as well as the streams that have been sacrificed in the course of that development, in order to unearth the historical memories of the streams that have witnessed the changing of the city.
On a weekend afternoon in mid-October, the plazas in front of and behind TMCC and the surrounding corridors were filled with a cacophony of songs and dances, sports competitions, performances by marching bands, and even a cake-cutting press conference celebrating a birthday. Then, at sundown, the audience’s eyes turned to the low-lying pond at the back of TMCC, where they were immersed in the poignant atmosphere of the evening performances of the two works.
In the evening, musician Tseng Po-Hao and glove puppet master Su Jyun-ying used the famous plaque of the Zhuxi Temple, The World of Enlightenment (liaoran shijie), as the title of their performance. They talked about the local ecology and memories of the area around the TMCC in the form of a ritual and traditional open-air storytelling. At the pondside of TMCC, Tseng Po-Hao brought up the soul of a Japanese female student, who had been wronged for more than 30 years, along with his singing accompanied by the sound of the moon lute (yueqin) by the canoe. He told the story of how she had come to Taiwan to travel but had died horribly in another place, and to sigh with sadness about the changes that had occurred to the area of the Bamboo River where she has been around for all of these years. The expansion of the city has not only brought with it construction and the bustle of people, but also poison and wastewater that have been used to fight avian flu and dengue fever. With the help of the deity of theatre, Marshal Tian Du (tiandou yuanshuai) and the Lord of the Land (tudigong), the ghost who had failed in the spiritual practice gradually let go of her obsession, and finally, accompanied by the audience with their witness and best wishes, set sail to the other side of the world of enlightenment.
The TMCC is the first local venue in Taiwan with international performance standards, and we can see from this curatorial exhibition that the theatre space turns out to be a legacy of urban development. The two works above summarize the overlapping narratives of the history of the Bamboo River, mapping the transformation of this low-lying area in Tainan’s East District into a space for urban use during the city’s expansion. Thus, in contrast to the joy of the day, as the sky darkens with the setting sun, the audience gathers at the pond to celebrate the “birth” of the place by talking about the history of ghosts and humming an elegy, picking up and piecing together the “extinction” of those who have been forgotten, abandoned, and left unnamed in the disorder of the gap of urban development.
If there is an “Anthropocene Theatre Aesthetics”—the Awareness of Waste
The performing arts works curated in the abovementioned venues are centered on two streams of thinking about theatre sustainability: one sees the theatre as a venue for the transnational exchange of ideas, introducing ideas and forms through international performances, and sharing a series of overseas discussion agendas on theatre sustainability with Taiwanese audiences; the other sees the theatre as a construction project under urban development, building a local narrative that looks back at the changes in the surrounding environment of the theatre, telling local stories, and calling the audience’s attention to their hometowns.
At the extremes of these two mindsets, the audience, on the one hand, refutes all kinds of incongruities and casts a provocative eye as a skeptic, while on the other hand, indulges in emotional narratives about the environment, humanities, and nostalgia for the hometown and the land, which may not necessarily stimulate a sense of ecological sustainability. We all know that Taiwan, as part of the global processing chain, has never been outside the global production system, let alone naively playing the role of innocent victim in environmental and ecological issues. However, Taiwanese audiences are discouraged from participating in this “theatrical sustainability” project and are caught in a contradictory attack and defense of “Whose era of extinction is it?—Are we really sharing the same era of extinction with them in another place? Or should we break away from the human-centered experience of the world and take responsibility for the extinction era that sacrifices others?
In this way, theatre venues, as human-made technological objects that constantly reproduce platforms for encounters between humans and nonhumans, interweave moments of alliance between the intangible, such as empirical existence or energy, and the tangible, like objects or species of life. Therefore, if we go a step further and ask about the possible forms of “Anthropocene Theatre Aesthetics,” we can see from the works mentioned above that the audience consciously questions the relationship of theatrical productions and traces the cycle of exchange, transmission, distribution, and consumption behind them. In this way, the “Anthropocene Theatre Aesthetics” no longer allows the audience to immerse itself in the illusory space of the proscenium stage and enjoy the pleasure of watching, nor does it only break the fourth wall and maintain alienation to remind the audience not to be easily persuaded. It also allows the audience, after breaking the fourth wall, to pry open the boundaries between the front stage and the backstage and to penetrate the seemingly sealed and closed walls of the theatre one by one. While watching the show, the audience will be able to make multiple mental calculations, to measure the production network inside and outside the theatre hidden behind the visible surface, and to shift the boundaries between human and nonhuman, between self and other, in order to reposition themselves and the subjects of their gaze in the same overall position.
The purpose of talking about sustainability in theatre is not to rush to a conclusion, but perhaps it is more important to appreciate the process we are talking about—to be aware of the “waste”. If we cut ourselves off from nature, all human activities are bound to become redundant, and the arts bear the responsibility and critique for being wasteful in the face of energy efficiency evaluation. The only way for theatres to meet this false standard is to become abandoned buildings. However, the theatre, where performances are given to take place, constantly makes space for us to see this “romantic wastefulness” lang (man di hao) fei in the performing arts—through the “romance” of poetic and sensual atmosphere, “wasting” limited resources to pursue aspirations beyond reality—and then uses performances as a vein to co-create an alternative to anthropocentric collaboration inside and outside the venue, to continue to contribute to the sustainable development of culture, art, and environmental ecology where the intersection of seemingly dilemmatic sustainable programs is discussed.
Looking back at the question about theatre sustainability itself, it coincidentally highlights the nature of theatre as a place where people constantly negotiate the boundary between the illusionary and the real in order to open up a space for dialogue. Thus, under the “Aesthetics of Anthropocene Theatre” and the “Awareness of Waste,” theatrical detachment and alienation become an aesthetic strategy that expresses the audience’s urgency to see the real through illusions. In this way, we can rethink our relationship with the world, look back at the ethics of caring for the land environment, and then ask ourselves how we are and can be together in this era of extinction known as the Anthropocene.
Charles Lee resides in Taipei and graduated from the Department of Drama and Theatre and the Graduate School of the Department of Anthropology at National Taiwan University. As an apprentice in anthropological research with a background in performing arts, Lee is particularly interested in how grassroots, folk, and traditional creativity can serve as inspirations and resources for art and culture, and how this allows us to contemplate the re-invention of forms of artistic expression in the world we live in.
Taiwan Insight 