RUTGERS THEATER COMPANY in BERLIN : May 2018

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Happy in Berlin?

When you look at paintings what do you see?

Do you find the beauty?

Do you search for the reason that it was created?

Do you look for meaning?

When I look at a painting I wonder if the painter hated it.

Did they notice one line that's out of place?

Did they think the hue was off?

Did they beat themselves up over it?

When I look at actors, directors, designers, etc. I question if they like their work. How many of the actors we have seen hated their acting? What directors wish they had done a better job? Which costume designers wish they had picked a more breathable fabric?

I beat myself up about almost everything I do. I have depression, it's not something I hide as talking about it not only helps me but I know it helps others like me. When I look at art I can see the beauty but that's not what I want to find. I'm craving artists like me.

I like looking at the Wanderlust and wondering if the painter was melancholy at home. I wonder if someone in Der Die Man is compensating for their unhappiness by making others laugh. I'm not here for joy or beauty; I am here for a connection to the real vulnerability of humanity.

Today my mother asked me if the art I have experienced here has made me happy and I couldn't really come up with an answer; not because of my depression but because with this trip that's simply not what I have been looking for.

Wandering through Berlin

The Wanderlust exhibit was filled with eye-catching landscapes of our beautiful world. The artists were very articulate in capturing all of the emotions resulting in gazing at vast landscapes such as this. The "Wanderer above the Sea of Fog", besides depicting Christopher's doppelganger, allows viewers to immerse themselves into the artist's world. The fog weaves through the mountaintops, like people moving through a city. You can imagine yourself as a wanderer every day.

I could not stop staring at these paintings. I could easily sit in that exhibit for a whole day. As a photographer, I tend to take A LOT of photos of landscapes, which makes me appreciate these works of art even more. I'd love to paint something as breathtaking as this, but I'm left with my camera and my eyes. I hope everyone can use their eyes and recognize things you wouldn't usually look for in Berlin. Whether it's appreciating the architecture of the buildings you enter or the facial expressions of the actors in the shows (because you can't understand German), you should take time to connect with the city.

As travelers we trek through uncharted territories of our own. Lucky for us, Berlin is a large enough city that we will never see all of it (at least in this trip). Remote Mitte helped in breaking our boundaries and getting comfortable with the city. We are presented with a new “playground” to run around in. Spend time finding your place or purpose in Berlin.

I will be sure to upload my favorite photos before leaving…

Part of The Spree

My first time abroad. There is excitement, nerves, uncertainty -- to say the least. An immense amount of pressure to continually do, do, do. To have some sort of baptism from the continual existential crisis I forever live in. "This theatre will change me." "This city will re-ignite a fervor in me." "I will have an experience." This plethora of thoughts floods my mind, and I am overwhelmed. Jet lagged. Irritated. Continuing to live in questions, but forever holding onto the hope that I will have the golden experience. That one moment where I feel changed. And so, I wait...

and wait...

...and wait...

...

. . . . . . .

and wait.

...and w a i t.

Nada.

This sketch above, a view from a part of The Spree in which I sat for quite some time, is the moment in which I realized I need to let all of this longing go. It has been from this moment on that I have found solace with my wandering, compulsive, mind. The experiences -- good, bad, irritating, hilarious, sad -- they are right in front of me. Slowing down, being here with ease and grace, the moments pulsate through me. I say all of this with having learnt a huge lesson: the most precious and impactful of experiences have been the times in which everything was so simple. Thus far, it has not been at a museum, a monument, a theatrical piece, etc. -- it has been me sitting by The Spree (next to two wonderful woman feeding the birds their bananas). Much of this trip, for me, has felt like the opportunity to put a pause on the woes of life and really start to slow the fuck down. I really look forward to finding more of these moments...

This trip was always intended as a conversation, not a tour. A conversation with (first and foremost) the work, then with each other, then those with whom we interact and finally the city itself. It's why I asked each group to read the book. Not as some empty academic exercise (with a not so academic book) — busy reading — but I wanted you to use it as a way to see that at some point all stories converge.

We are here to experience, dislocate, reassess and experience and repeat. All things build on what follows if you pay attention — sometimes intended — sometimes fortuitous — sometimes dissonant — sometimes a failed experiment.

Our 2018 works so far are some of the most diverse and least concrete of the performances/productions I have seen in all the years I've come here. Why is that? Why so much variety and instability? I think it is in no little part attributable to the fact that you all have arrived in a city in the throes of institutional and aesthetic change. The cultural landscape has shifted — is shifting. This is a great moment to be here because they — the theater-makers AND the audiences — are trying to find themselves. I see it so clearly in all the new work and the strange unsteadiness in the older, existing works. All you had to do was sit in the echoing emptiness that was Volksbühne right before WOMEN IN TROUBLE began to know that something big — something odd — is going on. Don't you feel it even in the heat?

Weibke Nonne as Schaubühne and Shahrzad Rahmani like to call this the most exclusive, private, little known theatre festival in the world. The temptation might be to expect that this would be definitive anthology of German Theater (Theatertreffen acknowledges the futility of that even while trying to make the attempt.) I would never do that. I couldn't do that. One, it's not my style. And, two, it would be impossible. It's a curated snapshot of a very interesting moment in German and perhaps, by extension, Western theater.