Last weekend I attended a play presented by Boom Arts and The Cascade Festival of African Films, featuring Ifrah Mansour telling the story of Somalia’s civil war through the eyes of a 7-year old child.

I was bowled over. Don’t even know how to begin to describe it. It is a one-woman play, featuring a larger-than-life puppet as a stand-in for the mother, a back-screen that displays voices telling their war and immigration experience, and an actress who has a seemingly unlimited repertoire of movements and facial expressions. All of them are required in the story she is weaving, easing the viewers in by describing the early childhood, the normal life of a mischievous little girl with two brothers and a baby sister. Pranks, daily routines, playtime, family interactions all come to life.

We then learn how her parents use all kinds of ruses to avoid alarming the children when the flight from the violent action begins – claimed visits to aunties house, exploring the forests. etc. Their desire to protect them is shattered when one of their children gets killed and the mother thrown into paralyzing depression. The girl narrator, in the beginning all smiles and never-ending movement of a busy kid, depicts her fear and sorrow with increasingly slow movements, clinging to mother’s skirts, trying to understand what is going on around her, clearly having figured out that tragedy abounds.

Mansour is fierce. In her determination to face the facts and educate the world around her. In her willingness to confront the pain in the re-telling. In her unflinching description of the post-traumatic, longitudinal effects of living through war. Much of the projected background conversation focuses on the intergenerational conflict between not wanting to re-live the horrors by talking about them, vs. wanting to know one’s history.

The actress was born in Saudi Arabia and arrived in her parents’ native Somalia just as the civil war started in 1991. They lived through war, famine, refugee camps until being able to immigrate to the US, where they were settled in Texas without a single other black person to turn to. The need for community became as urgent as anything. She now lives and works in Minnesota, and the play, How to have Fun in a Civil War, is successfully traveling the country. Next stop, Albuquerque, NM.

Here is her life story, in her own words.

Music today is telling the story through song from the refugee camps.

Imagine someone offered you the main role in a 5 minute-play about a failed reconciliation between lovers. You would have to perform the same scene a hundred times over with a hundred different partners who are previously unknown to you, uninterruptedly across 24 hours. Would you take on that role? What if I told you you have to touch these strangers, dance with them, or that you will be exposed to their evaluation that is theirs’ to chose – from debasement to affirmation? Would it matter for your decision that in the end you remain on the stage, telling them to leave, but they have the choice to deliver one final emotional blow?

Does it matter if you are a woman or a man, or gender neutral, if you are reading this? Does your age matter? Would your answer differ along these parameters for taking on the role?

I was going to introduce some women across this week who made me think about courage or other desirable attributes, whose work is astounding or admirable, or both. And, as is so often the case with this blog, that plain intention soon morphed into something somewhat unanticipated.

I had read about the endurance performance of Nat Randall and Anna Breckon’s The Second Woman at the Brooklyn Academy of Music last month with Alia Shawkat in the main role. Why would you expose yourself to such physical duress, I wondered? (For some actresses teetering on high heels for 12 hours let to such swollen feet that they could no longer kick of their shoes, as the play required.)

Why allow yourself to be touched and manipulated and psychologically potentially hurt by strangers? (The men all volunteers without acting training, having just memorized the few lines they could chose from.) Why sit in a stiflingly decorated little box with gauze surrounding you, the audience watching you like peeping Toms on video screens as if you were in one of those German and Dutch brothels where pedestrian can amble along street rows of lit windows displaying the workers? Why endure the fact that you are stuck for 24 hours wile the audience is allowed to come and go as they please? Why could I not see myself as a spectator to all this if you promised me a reward to last me a life time? Much less as the actress?

The (longer) answer to why the actress did it can be found here. The short version:

What lives inside all of us, but definitely inside of me, is genderless, shameless, doesn’t feel guilty about her body, about her sex, doesn’t feel incompetent, doesn’t feel like she has to perform — just gets to play, just gets to have fun. Gets to connect no matter what anyone has that they’re willing to offer. And if they don’t offer anything, I get to turn off the music, so it’s time for them to leave.

Empowerment, in other words, in contrast to my own assessment of dire objectification. Off I went on a hunt for interviews with other actresses who performed in this play that has been around for 4 years or so, and traveled across the world, using local factory workers in Taiwan as the 100 strangers, or neighborhood folks in Australia, or now the open call in Brooklyn. I could not find a single additional interview.

I did find, however, a great number of reviews, all really passionate, all focussed on gender relations, male power, subjugation, show-casing of hierarchy and misogyny and the mesmerizing lure of watching these ever unfolding same scenarios for a potential path-breaking difference.

Reviews all written by women. Some representative samples can be found here, here and here.

And then there was the single review by a man that I came across, and believe me I searched. His assessment? Maybe the play was designed as an experiment to test our patience. Maybe it wanted to test how strongly we desire not to be stuck in ever repeating roles and expose how we are forever auditioning in relationships. His view of the men – and I quote: “the men so much passing flotsam, a few amusingly embarrassed, others eager to impress, still others too stiff to make an impression.”

I cannot, of course, do a fair comparison of one against many, with this outlier not picking up on the preoccupations offered by everyone else I read. Maybe it was just this single male’s idiosyncratic take. But maybe not.

In the end, it made me think less about the actress’s feat and her motivation and more about how we might be influenced by what we are reading about art depending on the interaction with the gender of the reviewer. It is not about the quality of the review per se, but about shared – or distinct – preoccupations and concerns that feed our receptivity. Then again, that is not necessarily always tied to gender – best example: I am still reeling, writing this on a Sunday morning, from being disgusted about a review by Rachel Cusk in the NYT about women artist’s ability to be just an artist.

Oh well. we won’t solve this this week or the next. But we will search this week for interesting women and what they pull off!

Music today is a most orthodox opera performance (of the war between the sexes) off-setting the unorthodox theatre I introduced. Fritz Busch conducts in a 1935 (!) recording performance of Cosi fan Tutte at the Glyndebourne Theatre. A blissful entry into the week!

Photographs are of old, dying ferns taken last week. Connection? Funny you ask. The stage set for the The Second Woman” is in reference to a 1977 John Cassavetes movie “Opening Night” which is about an aging actress facing her decline. I can empathize with wrinkly skin akin to wrinkly ferns…. but in all honesty I just wanted to show the ferns for their fall beauty!

This week was devoted to people whose imagination, creativity and engagement make a difference in the world. Theater was my main focus, and so I thought I’d close this week with a different kind of role playing.

I might have shown some of these images before, I can’t recall. They were taken during an interfaith workshop several years ago, that taught kids about the contents and customs of different religions. My friend Fatima Albar brought her young daughter and the two of them showed all the children how to don a hijab, a headscarf worn by Muslim women, and explained their reasons for wearing these when in public.

It was a lively session, with many questions and answers and then the kids were encouraged just to drape themselves in scarves and find out how it would feel to wear them during their playing and running around. Much laughter ensued, and lots of experimentation, by girls and boys alike.

I was convinced – of course no way I could test that assumption – that these particular children will not shy away from Muslim women or stereotype them for their garb as others might do. And I was glad to see curiosity and openness, rather than closed-off minds clinging to the familiar. Taking on varied roles helps to understand different types of experiences and views – good theater does that for us, even of we do not actively participate.

These kids will be in middle-school now; perhaps they march tomorrow at the national or local #marchforourlives – I will be there to support them and their demands for safety from assault weapons. Perhaps even photograph……..

Oh, do I miss it. JTC, founded in 2008 by Sacha Reich, had a glorious run until it didn’t and decided to go into hibernation.

Or dormancy, or any other name you want to give a state that is hopefully temporary.

http://www.jewishtheatrecollaborative.org/about.html

The Collaborative focussed on works with Jewish content, often creating a play from scratch based on books or other literary forms. Some were easy fables, some where the most complex narratives you can imagine, folded into the tight space of an evening’s theatre, plot, character development, underlying themes and all.

Although partially supported by Jewish organizations in town, financially or in kind – when the PDX section of the National Council of Jewish Women still existed we certainly funded some of JTC’s endeavors – they were generally recognized for the depth and quality of their work by non-Jewish funding agencies as well. But it is extremely difficult to stay afloat in a small town with so many competing companies, all in need of a slice of the pie.  I want to stress, however, that I do not know if financial difficulties led to the recent period of dormancy, or the workload that was heaped on too few people who devoted much of their lives to the cause, or whatever reasons there might have been. All I know is that it is a loss for our community.

I photographed their rehearsals for years, appreciative of how much local talent was willing to participate in these plays. I also marveled at their knack of raiding the thrift stores for diverse wardrobe items – they did costume and mask with relish, and with a strong sense of what visually worked with their lighting. I selected a wide range of photos today with an eye on regulars and that exuberant “disguise.”

Sacha Reich is directing a new play about a mixed race transgender girl, The Mermaid Hour, opening at Milagro, I believe, today, 3/22. http://milagro.org/event/the-mermaid-hour/  

Here is a preview: http://www.orartswatch.org/the-mermaid-hour-rolls-around/ 

I am sure it is going to be quite a ride.

Yesterday I introduced a Mexican theatre company that seeks out marginal populations, interacts with them and tells their stories. Today I want to report again on a Chilean company that does something similar and then converts it into a different kind of performance: non-verbal puppet plays.

Santiago Tobar and his puppetry troupe Silencio Blanco construct marionettes from a newspaper base and then have them perform in silence. Their goal is to show la belleza de las cosas simples y cotidianas (the beauty of simple, everyday things), telling stories about the traditional livelihoods of Chilean workers, and what is happening to them in an age where industrial exploitation, capitalistic greed and ruthless industrialization at best costs people their livelihood and at worst their lives.

Silencio Blanco (just like Teatro Linea de Sombra) has an international presence. Their stories are universal and the absence of spoken language facilitates a direct interaction with the narrative; and so it is no surprise that there are no barriers to understanding when Syrian refugee children in Denmark encounter the puppets, or the plays are presented in the US, Great Britain or Portugal.

Thanks to http://www.boomarts.org  last year Portlanders got to see “Chiflón, the silence of the coal,” a play about the hazards of working in the Chilean mines and the anticipatory fear of the women who never know if their husbands, brothers and sons will return. We learned about the working conditions in post-industrial 21st century Chile, and the traditional village life explored by the troupe’s members in their lengthy stays at Lota. The construction of the puppets, sets and their movements were exquisite, and the silence somehow gave those who were represented a real voice. 

Their current project is called Pescador; it explores the lives of artisanal fishermen. The entire company spent time in the coastal town of Constitucion to learn about the ways traditional ways of living from the sea are now affected by international companies, industrialization of fishing and international law regulation quotas, and last but not least climate change and pollution that affect the health of the ocean.

Chile, by the way, is quite aware of the threat of climate change to their country. Minister of the Environment Mena said last summer: “climate change is now regarded by most Chileans as their greatest external threat – “what was for some decades climate change alarmism is now a reality in Chile”. Therefore, he claims, “there is no climate negationism” in Chile. To counteract the problems associated with climate change and to further raise awareness, the government has implemented various policies. In June, for instance, a national policy was announced that will bring compulsory climate change classes to Chilean schools.”

Chile launches new national action plan on climate change

Pescador

The very young members of this troupe manage to convey to the viewer some important truths. They elicit a sense of empathy that extends beyond the one they themselves show by bringing their interest to the people of the communities with whom they form alliances. I found their work both poetic and political in ways that had a lasting impact.

In 1975 I sat on a public bus in Colombia discussing neo-Marxism in general and Antonio Gramsci in particular with my seat mates, strangers who spoke fluent English (to my nonexistent Spanish.) What I most vividly remember is my embarrassment bordering on shame about my own idiotic assumptions about South American education – I held such narrow, negative stereotypes, all of which were dismantled in the 6 months I backpacked throughout South America.

In the German countryside where I grew up I did not always have access to sources that would open my eyes to the world. I’ve tried to find remedies ever since, and luckily those continue to be available where I live now. Specifically they often come in the form of political theatre or documentary film (this week’s topic) which intellectually instructs and emotionally scoops you up into worlds that are otherwise unknown to you.

Case in point were the workshops and performances of one of Mexico’s premiere small theatre groups Teatro Linea de Sombra, as experienced last week in PDX. Founded in 1993, the company, under the direction of Jorge A. Vargas and Alicia Laguna, focusses on the political and existential realities of marginalized populations in Mexico and Latin American countries. Simple props and stage sets are offset with a sophisticated sense for the visual, and modern technology (including powerful lighting by Blanca Forzan) seamlessly joins traditional theatrical craft in their performance.

http://www.teatrolineadesombra.com

Most striking, though, are the ways that their ideas (and I say “their” because these plays are collaboratively constructed) rope you into worlds of trauma and suffering, but also defiance and resilience that leave the rest of us in the dust. This was certainly true for their hallmark play Amarillo which received the Latin ACE Award for Best Foreign Production in New York, in 2012. Performed for international audiences as well as in multiple migrant centers along the routes of migration, the play describes the effects of migration, its associated risks, restrictions, dangers and promises, on those who leave and those who are left behind. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGbnAfX9gDk

TLS often engages in years of research, sometimes, but not always, sponsored, to configure a topic. Out of many micro-stories collected by individual members of the troupe, they create a web of ideas from which eventually some dominant themes emerge that tell the story. Their approach to the violence experienced by the populations they encounter – often living with them or visiting extended amounts of time – is circuitous. Rather than representing the violence and trauma directly, in sync with the sensationalist media reports we all know, they present it indirectly via hints and metaphors and tangential narratives, for the most part.

I had the privilege to photograph the North American premiere of their new play Rebuilding Small Territories [Pequeños territorios en reconstrucción] which describes the construction of a small village in Colombia by women who were displaced by war, violence and, for some, the massacre of  El Salado (http://www.nytimes.com/2000/07/14/world/colombians-tell-of-massacre-as-army-stood-by.html)  

Told by actresses Zuadd Atala Ibánez and Alicia Laguna and with incisive concurrent translation by Ruth Wikler-Luker, the story focusses on the women’s determination to build their new homes, literally by pouring the necessary cement blocks and stacking them. A village emerges on donated land, self-governed and administrated by these women who refuse to be but victims. Out of 70 years of Colombian trauma emerges something empowered and empowering. And talking about power: Just watching those 2 actresses physically hauling cinderblocks across the stage until they add up to the 98 represented houses of the Cuidad de las Mujeres made me sweat. For Spanish speakers, here is a clip of an interview with the lawyer who helped these women to built peace.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ml0vlm4EGA 

Characters used in the narrative are the cinderblocks, a hippo and letters without addresses – some of these pursue a linear path to describe the Colombian reality, others are in the guise of fables. In combination it keeps the viewers on their toes, grateful for the occasional sparks of humor when thinking and feeling are starting to overwhelm.

The Seattle Times generally describes the TLS’s work as  “raw, tragic, unsparing, poetic, vibrant.” I agree, but would add something else. The play I saw manages to translate intellectual, political, ideological concepts into something easily absorbed as something less cerebral. It forces the viewer into an empathetic response that resonates long after the visceral images disappear. In this sense, Teatro Linea de Sombra not only represents solidarity in its own work with the disenfranchised, but creates a path towards mobilizing the viewer’s solidarity with those we do not know but who are in need of our support. Not a small feat.

Which brings us back to Gramsci: His philosophy of praxis stressed the need for solidarity without borders, the need for international alliances and the creation of spaces for resistance. Rebuilding Small Territories is a large step in that direction.

Can’t wait to see new work from this company. Hopefully in a context where not all of my photos are struggling with too little light….