Through The Looking Glass of Work on the Self (by Shu Yu [she/her] and Eugene [he/him], Spacebar Theatre)
Introduction
Work on the Self (WOTS) is a 10-week training programme developed and facilitated by Darryl Lim, Artistic Director of Split Theatre. The first iteration of WOTS consisted of 9 participants and the programme culminated in an optional showcase for invited and registered guests titled Prayer Meeting. The process also includes a documentation element; Darryl invited us, Shu Yu and Eugene of Spacebar Theatre, to document WOTS.
This collaboration initially began as a curiosity into Split’s creation process from the lens of relative outsiders. As creatives who have a more academic and text-based background, we wondered how the physical and personal experience of Split’s work might be viewed through the Spacebar lens. As frequent audiences of Split’s work, we were familiar with the nature of their creative work, which often utilised the self, or the personal as entry-points for ensemble craft, sometimes coupled with literary works as inspirations of base-text, but always with a strong emphasis on body and physicality.
With the knowledge that much of Split’s work exists in the experience of the body and is often driven by personal stories, or associations, this documentation piece serves not as an evaluation of the programme nor a critique of Prayer Meeting. Instead, Through The Looking Glass of Work on the Self intends to provide a snapshot of what the training programme was like, taking observations from the rehearsals and Prayer Meeting, participant interviews and chats with Darryl as a starting point. This piece of writing also includes opinions, speculations and questions from a third-party point of view, and hopes to incite further reflection from the facilitators, participants and audiences so that WOTS can continue to grow and transform.
Part 1: Work on the Me, Work on the We
By Shu Yu
WOTS creates an environment in which individuals encounter themselves and each other in order to find personal progress and a more “wholesome” self. In “Context and Process”, Darryl explains that his area of interest is in “how the actor, with the guide of the director-facilitator, can grow towards a fuller and more wholesome self...It is simply about self-development.” That being said, definitions of ‘self-development’ and ‘fuller’ selves can be nebulous and opaque and the WOTS process is difficult for an outsider to access. It is harder still for a third party observer to rely solely on the externalisation of what is fundamentally a deeply interior process specific to each and every participant and their own life experiences. Hence this document is not keen on exploring the efficacy of the training, or the depth to which self-development is achieved, but is interested in exploring the motifs, unpacking and speculating the inspirations generated through rehearsal training.
In fact, one recurring motif in this process of achieving a fuller self ironically involves friction, attrition and shedding, often through an inter-action of forces curated by Darryl.
Imagine stones rolling along in a coursing river. They bump around each other, tumble, grate and rub. Over time, the stones’ rough edges smooth out; they become pebbles, then become smaller yet into sand grains carried along faster by the unending stream.
Possibly, WOTS mimics such a metaphor. Each exercise or instruction serves to attrit; every instinct and realisation seeks to polish an understanding of the self, and importantly, an understanding of the self in relation to others. As many stones dissolve into fine grains, a group may find themselves flowing easily, comfortably to where the river brings it.
In WOTS, this process of refinement can be accessed through three entry points.
Mind and Body
Performance, Associations and Sense-making
Self and Others
Since the WOTS is highly experiential and personal, my own understanding of what is being worn down and overcome is a limitation of one's perspective or mental preoccupations of over-thinking, hesitations, doubt and expectation. Of course, such “work” could be specific to different individuals.
Refining of the mental state through physical training.
WOTS undoubtedly uses physical training to school mentality. In fact, it is observed that the physically demanding training wears one down into a state of doing more so than thinking: up to a point of letting the body and its instincts focus on the present moment. To harp on a point or a meaning to the training seems almost counter-productive. As Participant A points out, the first few weeks of WOTS were crucial but repetitive and tedious. Darryl had them do the “four corners” exercise-- skipping around the periphery of a large square marked out on the floor before leaping across the diagonal at the same time as another member, thus risking a head-on collision every time. Needless to say, besides the stamina to make countless laps, the exercise also demanded great control and tension in the body so each lunge toward the opposing member would purposefully be a near-collision, but only result in a close brush. Flailing limbs and half-hearted attempts would throw the body’s momentum off-course, leading to an actual accident. “We were repeating sequences again and again and I was like, ‘What the fuck?’” Participant A recalls. They confessed they nearly wanted to quit the process at these early stages because they could not see where the strenuous and mind-numbing exercises were leading. Later, however, when the text of Oedipus Rex by Sophocles was introduced to the process, Participant A was able to map the drilling and repetitions exercise across to making break-through understandings to their role (explored in a later section).
The four-corners exercise encapsulates much of the training and it is a particularly well-cited one. Besides overwhelming fatigue, many associated this exercise also with risk-taking. From time to time, when postures slackened and rhythms dipped, Darryl would call across the room, “As close as possible! Take the risk!” With a collective intake of breath, the sound of thudding feet would pick up and a pair of leapers would wordlessly turn to jump sideways--fail the first time, and try again-- so they would brush each other chest-to-chest. As closely as possible. As remarkable as their synchronicity is, I am thankful to be scribbling lazily on the floor instead.
While repetition and fatigue seem to be somewhat mindless, I hazard that the exercises conversely make one very mindful of the fatigue, and one must work deliberately to keep things fresh and upbeat. It is a reckless way, occasionally leading to existential thoughts like Participant A’s but perhaps also effective in literally ‘shaking off’ a state of mind. In one rehearsal, Darryl asks the group to come up with poses associated with the word “prayer”. He accepts a few, asks for variations from several people, then tells them decisively, “Run one round and come back.” They do so, and promptly return and offer fresh poses. He accepts. If nothing else, I realise that the human mind is essentially a monkey brain -- often difficult to comprehend, but sometimes just so easy to hack.
Yet, there is a delicate balance between thinking and doing that participants have to negotiate, almost emptying out their minds and following their instincts, but at the same time making personal discoveries by foraying into new mental paths without over-fixating on the meaning of what they are doing. In fact, much of the training relies upon the use of a score that guides the actions or expressions for each individual. The score itself is built from “associations”. Speaking to several of the group members, I learned that associations can be an amalgamation of things: part memory, part situation, part sensations; which become an experience or a reality for oneself. Associations seem to be the key building blocks in the WOTS process that form the basis of the score. Often, Darryl makes the class perform their scores for long periods of time. I observe that in that time, individual sequences are repeated. Sometimes, the tone shifts between each repetition: participants perform their actions slightly differently, changing the quality of their movements, breathing at different moments, channelling their energies in a variety of ways (e.g. angrily, sadly, resignedly). From the outside, it is as if they are “feeling” for something, tweaking their sequences so that it feels “right”, but the impulses and motivations behind all of this escape me given the specificity of the associations. From time to time, Darryl steps into the space from the periphery and whispers to the participants in the middle of their sequences, providing a nudge. Curious, I ask what he is seeing. “I look at them as a whole, assess their energy and interfere if they look like they are thinking,” he tells me.
2. Performance, Associations and Sense-Making
I understand what he means theoretically; it is difficult to reach one’s fullest potential when bogged down by the banality of the moment, hard to be divinely inspired or unabashedly creative when over-fixated on making sense, and easy to self-restrict when insecurity, doubt or self-consciousness hold you back from giving into the present sensations. In these moments, Darryl seems to insert himself into the process not as an antagoniser or a challenger, but as a reminder for them to act in the present. Sometimes, the participants do not need it; they readily tell Darryl exactly what they have in mind or what they are trying to do and he lets them proceed.
Other times, challenges are due. Participants recount Darryl constantly asking questions that prompt a different mindset. One participant recalls him asking the class, “Why is ‘not giving’ equal to slowness?” in reference to a ‘Caring and Receiving’ exercise of expressing care to one another, where the automatic response to refusing care was to move with slowness or restraint. In another rehearsal, Darryl asks for responses to the word “prayer”, to which one participant offers the words “perverse” and “obscenity”. To that, Darryl urges them not to look at the word “prayer” from a religious point of view. In such instances, expectations are challenged by the process so as to lead participants to exploration, rather than conventional thinking and outcomes.
Another participant cited that Darryl asked, “Why are memories or thoughts of the self always sad?”, in reaction to the class routinely falling back on devising negative examples and expressions. One participant later said to me that perhaps this expectation was built into the programme itself. “‘Work on the Self’ suggests that there is work to be done, it connotes a sort of lack, so maybe people feel like there is something that is not good enough yet,” the participant speculated. Likewise, I find myself wondering during rehearsal why Darryl himself relates the words “perverse” and “obscenity” to religiosity. In this case, who is there to provide a reminder to him?
It is interesting that perhaps the WOTS process would best serve people who are ready to be reminded. Should they read every reminder as a challenge to their individuality or a threat to their own creative process, the friction that the WOTS process provides can become abrasive instead of productive. How then does WOTS build up its own clout, so that others may be confident and trusting enough to be a part of the process? Does the process also pre-suppose the type of participants who come on board?
I also wonder about how the WOTS process might unfold for non-theatrically inclined youth, those whose walls may have to be broken down before entering into a process that requires them to shed, attrit and be reminded. As mentioned before, many of the exercises did not make sense to Participant A until the introduction of the theatrical text as a running thread. It was only when the process was viewed through the lens of Oedipus, and its accompanying narratives and conflicts, that Participant A managed to process some of the exercises productively. I wonder if it was the restlessness and the repetitive blankness stemming from the exercises that prompted reflexiveness, which helped them find a breakthrough when there finally was a source text and a character to work off of. Would this process then benefit those who are already theatrically-trained or more analytical above those who are not?
3. Work on the We
As the individual begins to shed their inhibitions, it seems that they become more in tune with the collective whole. Indeed, the WOTS process also includes the individual in relation to others, especially since the self does not exist in a vacuum in and beyond the rehearsal studio. Over time, the individual may then allow themselves to “open up” and coalesce with others. One participant refers to this as achieving “blobbiness”, describing the WOTS ensemble as moving and playing in synchronicity like a sentient, viscous glob, something I imagine can only be possible after individuals are able to overcome their own guardedness or self-consciousness. This is not to say the group becomes homogeneous, but that it constantly negotiates its internal relationships, understands the ebbs and flows of the individual. Each individual in turn reacts with a level of spontaneity so that the whole group is able to perform as a cohesive unit, closely listening to each other’s intentions, communicating without words.
This is exemplified in the exercises that have no clear instructions, a non-verbal follow-the-leader game, where one person might shoot across the room starting a game of catch or a game of touch-me-not and the rest follow. It is straightforward ensemble practice and it helps to build teamwork and flow.
In fact, one might even say this is the most important part of WOTS, where the self can be whisked along, insecurities and all, and still be validated or heard by their team. Another concept well-cited by participants is the “I and Thou”, a 20th-century philosophical doctrine referring to the “direct, mutual relation between beings” (Britannica). Under this doctrine, I-Thou refers to the relationship between Man and God, while the relationship between Man and Man is an I-It relationship. Participants I spoke to explained that they toyed with these relationalities in the ‘Caring and Receiving’ exercise, where they had to give care, receive care and refuse care. It shed light on what it meant to relate to people and understand a sense of worth for oneself and others. In fact, the WOTS process seems to emphasise the I-Thou relationship strongly across the board. I gather that the participants of this cohort treat each other with the kind of respect and generosity one would expect from an I-Thou relationship, right down to how they view an audience. In this sense, the self has become larger than an individual, which is not only ideal for a theatrical ensemble but also effectively creates a greater sense of interdependency and support network within the WOTS batch itself.
Yet, this I-Thou philosophy also asks that the individual introspects and confronts certain vulnerabilities. One participant confessed that the most difficult thing for them was letting themselves be cared for by others as that meant becoming vulnerable to them. But they also admitted they felt safe because they had trust in Darryl. I am drawn to the fact that many participants of WOTS cite trust as a key to the work, both in their trainer and with each other. All but one participant from this batch were involved in Split Theatrical Productions’ works before WOTS, and it once again makes me wonder about possible discomforts that outsiders could face as participants. It would in fact be an interestingly different process for subsequent batches of WOTS participants.
Already, the possible divide between insiders and outsiders of the process raises questions about the validity or even necessity of observership. Perhaps the documentarian role can be navigated by means of interviews, behind the scenes conversations and in-rehearsal observations. But what about the role of the audience in the end-of-process showcase? Are they even audiences, or just visitors to an exhibition? What is the use of the theatrical end-point in all of this? Is it even a meaningful concern?
Part 2: The Question of Observing Work on the Self
By Eugene
As much as this programme seems to be focused on a more introspective process of developing the ‘self’, ultimately the exercises utilised to that end are derived from theatrical traditions. It is no surprise that the ten-week programme culminates in a performance showcase titled Prayer Meeting. While participation in the showcase is voluntary, all participants opted to perform in the showcase.
With a title like Prayer Meeting, it is somewhat clear that the base text for the performance is the individual ‘prayers’ that each performer recites through the duration of the showcase. There are some who brought a text more recognisable as a prayer, such as can be found in Catholic traditions, others brought powerful and booming chants, and there were those who seemed to have written their own original text for the ‘prayer’. These prayers were coupled with the individual performers having their own set of actions and gestures that constitute their scores.
Stringing the performance together are a number of other texts which are performed by the various performers. The first being the Ancient Greek play Oedipus Rex by Sophocles, the second being excerpts from I and Thou. Some performers have brief appearances in the limelight with their own monologues. But these texts were not strung together to make any coherent, literal sense. Rather, these were used as a tool to be played around with and not designed to be fully comprehended. They are performed to function more like music, with recurring motifs and patterns. Take a scene for example, when a performer repeats a short excerpt from the Chorus in Oedipus Rex begging Oedipus with his power to save Thebes from their crisis. The text is performed with subtle variations in tone, accents and energies so that there is something new to experience with every repetition. The audience is guided to experience past the word and focus on the delivery of the performance through scenes such as this that deliberately breaks the function of text as a vehicle of comprehension.
Through this, it can be assumed then, that this is a meeting where the audience and performers share their ‘prayers’.
But there is a catch: the audience enters the space and is directed to sit in a row facing the side of the room with the mirror, watching the performance through the reflection of what is behind us. The performance progresses to its finale without the audience ever being directed to turn around to face the actors. The situation echoes the fabled cave of Plato, and perhaps the intention was that the audience could, at any time and of their own free will, turn around to watch the performance head-on.
Through the unconventional mode of viewing the performance, the audience ceases to be mere witnesses to the end of a process. Their position as observers are challenged and they have to question their relationship with the performers on stage. In effect, where WOTS culminates in a showcase such as this, the audience engages in the process of WOTS as a fellow participant. After all, the audience is an inseparable part of the theatrical event, generally speaking.
The looming question thus comes to the fore: why should an uninitiated audience engage with the process?
The performance was not designed as a mere showcase. For starters, it was far removed from the familiar realist drama, and the focus is more on the performers performing actions rather than expressing a narrative or presenting an idea. And as mentioned above, the audience is faced with a novel seating configuration that challenges their usual orientation in a theatrical event. The third barrier of access is that the audience is not privy to the ten weeks of the process that came before the final showcase. The audience enters the space uninitiated and unaware and yet guided to deeply engage with the performance. There is no leaning back in your seat to witness the performance, and it is not only because we are seated facing the wrong way.
In unravelling why the uninitiated audience should engage with the process, we can take from a key concept that is explored in WOTS, namely the exercise of giving and receiving. In simplistic terms, a performance is structured in a way that the performers ‘give’ while the audience ‘receives’. But as we have seen with the process of WOTS, the concept of giving and receiving goes further than a mere transaction. The act of giving and receiving in the process is already a subtle act that participants profess is not easy to repeat or replicate every time it happens. Furthermore, to an observer, the act is so subtle that it is easy to miss. An uninitiated audience simply does not have the tools to adequately access this act of giving. There are no answers as to why an audience should engage with this act of receiving or giving, even if we assume that we are aware of this concept in the first place.
Perhaps we could consider that the audience should be engaging with the process through reflecting on the idea of the self and the related concepts explored in I and Thou. After all, it seems to be a concept that is found in the literal reflection of the self in the mirror that the audience faces. Following that, we could reason that the choice the audience innately has to turn around in their seats to face the performers could be a metonym for embracing the Thou. However, this would still be considered as the audience engaging with the showcase, rather than the process itself. Such a reading would still fall short of the nuances in the concept that is explored in the process.
In the end, it is not fully clear what the role of theatre is in relation to WOTS. While the exercises that are developed clearly take from theatrical traditions, it is not clear how the introspective nature of working on the self should interact with observers. With the audience’s horizon of expectations challenged, observers seem to be invited to engage with the process, but ironically at the same time leaves the audience without the tools to properly engage with the very process they are invited to engage with.
Conclusion
If the participants of WOTS were little pebbles being worn into sand grains, by Prayer Meeting, they appeared to be one lively coursing stream, filling the studio with heated emotions and palpable conviction inspired by the ten weeks of training prior. As documenters, we hope this piece of writing too can be a basis for bouncing off, reminding, and attriting for future participants, facilitators and audiences alike to discover new things about themselves, just as we have.
Being on the sidelines, it was easy for many questions to be raised and left unanswered. A lot of the theory and process remains a mystery to both of us, and as such we do not in any way claim to provide definitive answers. Documenting WOTS has provided insight to how the participants and/or members of Split Theatre often create works: through associations and score-making drawn from their personal experiences but with a deep sensitivity to their own body and impulses. It has alleviated some of the initial nebulousness that surrounded the concept of Split’s personal works and WOTS itself. Part of this experience invites audiences (or visitors to the process) to, like participants, free their minds from expectations and create their own associations and hence their own takeaways. Not only does this allow audiences to become their own selves freely exploring an encounter, it also allows participants to truly focus on themselves.
Yet this balance is hard to achieve. How can WOTS scaffold this experience of self-discovery for visitors and audiences? Is there even a need to do so? Perhaps there is none, and it would not serve the purpose of WOTS to bother about the reception of Prayer Meeting. However, the self as we know, does not exist in a vacuum. In fact, perhaps the audience is important to bear witness, so the self can actualise and be observed within a particular frame.
From this perspective, it would be fruitful to provide some level of context to audiences at the end-point showcase, if not to demystify, then to encourage or guide audiences in their own mini-WOTS during the experience of the showcase. One great way of doing so is through the participant blog-posts that have been published. Alternatively, having participants share about the WOTS experience, or offer prompts to audiences for their own introspection after the showcase could initiate a more productive ripple effect for audiences to leave with their minds stimulated. Maybe then, their own work on the self could start?
