|
|
| Monika’s I. Chronicle. Monika Pormale Anita Vanaga | |
| 1997-1998: Faust
In the spring of 1997, Margarita Miglāne, specialist at the Rainis Museum of Literature and Art, was seeking an artist for the exhibition ""Faust" in Latvian". The only one to respond was student Inese Pormale, in her third year at the Scenography Department of the Latvian Academy of Art. The centenary of Rainis' Latvian translation of Johann Wolfgang Goethe's "Faust" was to be marked in the premises of the Union of Theatre Artists, which still preserved the atmosphere of the Paradiso casino. The artist chose to retain the sensation of this heritage, arranging the relics into relational chains and revealing the fundamental principle of the tragedy - love. She established a conceptual frame and immersed it in atmosphere, eliminating the fear of banal phrases and creating a new poetic image. Uniting function with authenticity. She used whatever she found. A cloakroom number 100, dropped in the mirror-walled men's toilet, is enlarged as a misty poster, and at the climax of the play, the words "The Eternal-Feminine / Draws us onwards", presented with light signals, introduce the code that represents the passage to the clouds.
Already in 17th and 18th century painting, clouds were seen in terms of an open space. Johann Wolfgang Goethe perceived the clouds as a symbol of the concept Unvergangliches - the eternal and intransient - in relation to which he explored the connection between the endless universe and human nature.1 It is change that gives rise to imagination and the concept it has engendered - the Latin faustus, or "fortunate". The exhibition enjoyed an unprecedented response, and film director Rolands Kalniņš used it as the basis for his video "Eternal Faust". Back then, Pēteris Ķimelis brought his mother to No. 1, Talsu iela for a visit. "You're not Inese", said director Māra Ķimele, "Your name's Monika." And that's how it stayed. A new star was born in the heavens of set design. Along with her own personal theme. 05.01.1999: Art On graduating from the Academy of Art, Monika designed the set for Yasmina Reza's play "Art" at the New Riga Theatre. The plot centres on a situation that develops from the phenomenon of marketed art. A dermatologist named Serge, played by show choreographer Ineta Ķirse, purchases an all-white painting measuring 1.6 x1.2 m, by a famous artist, paying 200 000 francs. Serge's friends have a different perception of the painting. The intellectual Marc, played by Ģirts Ēcis, is offended that such an enormous sum has been laid out for "this piece of shit". At the same time, the sensitive Yvan, a long-standing client of psychoanalysis, whose abilities are seen by his friends as deriving from a lack of any personal viewpoint, strives to iron out the differences. This Figaro role is played by the translator and director of the play, Alvis Hermanis. This talking piece arrived in the Baltic precisely when the ground had been prepared for it: the citizens of post-Soviet society had taken up their ritual stance behind the shopping cart and culture had turned to market strategies. The dispute takes place in a white room, wallpapered with pictures of models (reflecting Serge's profession), recreating the self-sufficient atmosphere of a fashion gallery. Asserting fashion's role as art are the multi-language texts on the walls: ART, TAIDE, DAILE, SZTUKA... At the same time, the names of the seasons and prices, included among the images, mark the commercial nature of this field. The three "moving pictures" seem extracted from the fashion empire's clutches. Indicating their affiliation are the matching suits, the Hugo Boss perfume, the Pierre Cardin ties and the Rolex watch - everything is comme il faut, as the nouveaux riches are wont to say in the comedies of Andrejs Upīts. Presented in this space is the central issue - well-honed minimalism is nowadays a lucrative brand. Taken to extremes, it forces one to look closer at the astounding price, since, to prove that it's worth paying "for nothing", the arguments have to be stronger. Why should one lay out money for emptiness? It's not something that Westerners particularly strive for. Thinking is different in the East. The sense of emptiness is one of the steps in meditation, which follows after sensing your own vibrations. It is crowned by peace: the Buddha views the world like a cloud floating by. Zen calligraphy demonstrates the liberation of the mind, rather than concrete ideas. In this radiant state of mind, the reading of information has no significance, meanings have no significance. Emptiness radiates - and Peter Brook knows this. As do Ilmārs Blumbergs and Māris Subačs. We can calculate the subsistence minimum, but what is the cost of art? In spite of the fact that Andy Warhol, in his silk screens of dollars, reveals that art is money, an icon, a dream, happiness... The question "What is art?" remains all the same. Let there be happiness! So, what does happiness cost? The market sets the price, and the cost of creating it is only one of the components. Making up the rest is the sweet burden of publicity, including the legend about the artist and the work itself, ideas of lifestyle and the value of social status or renommé - adding up to a price far exceeding the capital invested by the artist. The market need not understand art. It is sufficient that styles are recognised and that there is readiness to invest money, holding to the idea, clear as morning dew, that money makes money. The ending is a happy one. Serge permits Marc to draw, with a felt-tip pen from Yvan's shop, a gnome on skis traversing the white space and becoming lost in it. This turbulent force, disrupting the ideal order, restores the natural state of affairs: thus, the Oriental master hits his pupil with a rod, or a married couple break the family china in the heat of a domestic argument. Their friendship broadens, recognising that art has no value of itself, and neither has money. 1999-2003: the new complexity In 1999, Monika transfers photographer Gunārs Binde's legendary portrait of Eduards Smiļģis to the wall of the New Riga Theatre at 25 Lāčplēša iela. And leaves for New York with the intention of specialising in production design. "Before that, there was work on a trailer for a new Estonian film, created at the Cinevilla studio. It was an opportunity to gain a better understanding of this new passion of mine. Actually, it involved designing or "setting up" a particular scene and waiting for it to be filmed. I remember this as an experience of just waiting and waiting. In terms of conceptual self-expression, it's not enough for me." "I can compare it with the creative process of taking part in the making of Juris Poškus' film "The Hour is Nigh". This involved searching and discussing, the challenge of the unknown, sometimes with things that hadn't been formulated beforehand. The theatre doesn't interest me in terms of a professional career. I try to make choices that involve some strong, new feeling." Significantly, all of Monika's expressions express her own feelings. Ready to grasp life's opportunities, Monika develops the feminist "Sixth Element", together with Katrīna Neiburga; takes the "Riga Dating Agency" through Europe with Gints Gabrāns; creates the experimental film "The Flow of Energy", dedicated to American director Jim Davis; takes part in the "OPEN" activities in the streets of Riga and continues her collaboration with the theatres. And does all this most successfully. However, during the "LV TM" event, she writes on the building at 25 Raiņa bulvāris in Riga: ... I DON'T WANT ANYTHING, NO MATTER WHAT THE PRICE. CALL [the phone number of the curator, Ieva Kalniņa]. 02.01.2004: Onwards This "Not wanting" is expressed in the context of the commercialisation of art, as a personal reaction to the contemporary dictates of the client and the consumer, or, re-phrasing the Oracle of Delphi: "Know thy sponsor". The mood at the New Riga Theatre is similar. Following the success of "The Government Inspector", directed by Alvis Hermanis, the question emerges at the theatre: what can change in a person's private life, and is a person open to the possibility of changing something in their being? This leads to the joint production "Onwards". This prophetic situation resembles the moment when one seeks to learn one's fate, and the mystical writing appears: the past is dead, and the future is not born yet. Forget the past. Something new is on the way! Alvis Hermanis borrows from Maxim Gorky's play "The Lower Depths" the idea of a closed environment inhabited by the homeless, and crosses it with a TV reality show. A reality show is staged reality, and the actors of the New Riga Theatre act out a reality show that stages reality. Arriving in this laboratory of illusions is the pilgrim Luka, with the features of a healer and a painter of the Virgin Mary (Modris Tenisons), inviting every one of those present to begin their own journey. Shining on the stage above this lit "glass menagerie" is the bitter slogan "How proud the word rings - man!" This pride is crowned by three screens. The first demonstrates a rehearsal process, where the actors relate episodes from their lives (filmed by Jānis Putniņš). Shown in the second are sections of the mystical Lielvārde Belt, alternating with the faces of the participants in this performance (digital graphics by Juris Poškus, Modris Tenisons and A. Strazds). In the third, we see close-ups of the actors, filmed live by Monika. Dubbing is in the hands of the audience. A complex visuality has been set in motion. Developing simultaneously are: an archetypically mythical stratum, common and individual experience, psychophysical energy and the possibilities offered by multimedia. The fields of vision compete with one another, creating a feeling of over-saturation, fragmentation and discomfort, in the event that the viewer was hoping to grasp the whole array at one go - which is impossible. The information has to be sorted. The word "ONWARDS" has been entered into the search engine. Ģirts Ēcis uses it to goad on the tempo of the performance. "Onwards" means not only forwards into the future. "Onwards" also spurs us to the past, to depth, to shallowness... While there is seemingly nothing going on, or rather, waiting is that which is actually going on, the characters leave the transparent temple of illusion from time to time and strive to resolve something of significance: the actor played by Gundars Āboliņs applies his mind to the task of achieving the sole correct intonation in reciting a poem, as if his whole existence depended on it, while Maija Apine explores two different Maijas: one material, the other the illusion of the ego... Monika, too, has been allotted a role, with text by Hakim Bey, where "he turns down the idea of adjusting in any way or integrating into the system, especially by mocking the illusion of multiculturalism in the politically correct democracies."2 09.12.2003: The Long Life Striving for symmetry, Alvis Hermanis creates a parallel production: "The Long Life". The list of all the items that the eyes actually see would be an astounding one. This production holds an all-time record in Latvian drama in terms of its sheer material density. In contrast to the illusion of painted sets, which reveal a similar love of detail, in "The Long Life", everything is real: the bell buttons of the shared flat, the skis propped up in the hall, the ironing board, the bicycle, the vacuum cleaner, the clothes, the jars, the fridge and the magazines... Possessions one cannot do without and cannot consume. Passing through the hall, the viewer reaches the front of a typical wooden Riga house. Workers dismantle the façade, so that we can follow one day in the lives of five elderly people. Once we become accustomed to the dense atmosphere, the non-material texture starts to work. The set conjures up events, "the objects and silent actors are able to say much more than the words."3 Monika: "It involved looking at my familiar city of Riga from different perspectives. With rubbish dumps, courtyards, flats where old people had died recently or which people had to vacate because they were more needed by others. There were things drawing my attention and addressing me. Every object has a perceptible life story and an energy of its own. I'm amazed that the actors actually manage to create their own world in this meeting place of numberless worlds." The dress and space is an extension of the body, expressing the biography of the characters. The performance draws on memories and premonitions. Ordinary existence, the approach of death and the celebration of life, wealth and poverty, who knows. The individual tune is heard above the universal melody: thus, the musician Arnolds (Kaspars Znotiņš) and the neighbour's wife Jaņina (Guna Zariņa) sing their faded love duet. The slow tempo of private life is broken suddenly. It's exactly 8.30 p.m: time becomes synchronous and socially conscientious, when the TV news is switched on in the theatre. With that, in its accustomed rhythm, the daily cycle comes to a close. 03.09.2004: Blow, wind! The rich ethnic heritage, from the repository of tradition or the open-air museum - this is the starting point for Gaļina Poļiščuka's new production of Rainis' folksong play, which re-opens the renovated National Theatre. Stripped of dramatic lace, but with real fire and young flesh. In primitive society, the call of the earth and the call of blood are mixed. Along with the voice of fate, heard only by Baiba (Dita Lūriņa), when the mill turns, the tit sings and the wind blows in the morning. Who will get the morning's milling? The mystery lays its claim on human blood, on the noblest sacrifice, the purest soul. What can human understanding do against cosmic structure, when the sacred sowing and mowing regenerates creative force? The role of the sacrifice, played by Baiba together with the musicians, culminates in the ghost song "Mother, bake a cake". The audience sits around the perimeter of the stage. Monika has likewise ranged her instruments around the perimeter of the acting area, like an operating theatre nurse, so that everything is to hand. Dancing on the ruins of the authority of the text is clarity, passion and simplicity. The ideal Rainis lives on. 22.01.2005: Ice "Out of whose womb came the ice? And the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?" Thus, the Book of Job (38:29), the darkest in the Old Testament, encodes V. Sorokin's novel "Ice". Based on this, Alvis Hermanis has created "Collective book reading with the help of imagination at Frankfurt" at the Schauspielfrankfurt theatre. The long-winded title uncovers the structure of the production and emphasises the venue: the text has been shortened by the director in collaboration with the German actors, taking into account their perception of it. Unlike the writer, the creators of the production are not religious. However, seeking a resolution to the bitter message of the womb of ice for a blue-eyed, blond brotherhood, they come to a system developed in liturgy. A table of numbers, placed on stage so as to be clearly seen by the audience, ensures the unity of the altar and the auditorium. In Part One, photographic novels created by Monika are distributed to the audience, in Part Two, the audience receives H. Brant's porno-comics and, finally, 100 real photo albums of Soviet army men's families, obtained through adverts or by various other means known only to Monika herself. The faustic Übermensch and Rainis' man of the future hit home at totalitarian myth-making and dissolve in the reality of the SS, the KGB and wartime atrocities in Latvia, highlighting this side-effect of utopianism at the level of instinct. The "Blonds" are born as ordinary people, but come to understand that they have been chosen when their hearts were "awakened" through the touch of the universe: a hammer made of the ice created by the Tunguska meteorite. The three-hour production is driven along by Sorokin's chosen devices: laughter and prayer. The violence and pornography grafted onto the sacred register are undermined by the elementary syntax, the single-cell intellect, the minimal thought. This new kind of tiny virus undermines like a rebel the weakest spot in the consciousness of Job's giant. The director's stage metaphors act subversively. The triumph of volcanic ejaculation is represented by a plastic bottle of mineral water, the nightmare about rissoles cooked from the buttocks of a Blockade victim's corpse is cleansed and christened by a bath of tears filled in seven days of weeping, while in the dazzling apotheosis of "primeval light", between a gilded iconostasis and the sparks from skate-sharpening, the director introduces a violin's prayer. Which will win? After the analogy has been revealed, one secret remains. The riddle: who is the real Author? Monika: "There are few reference-points. Only orbital voyages, from one planet to the next." 1. Damiš J. Teorija /oblaka/. Sankt-Peterburg, «Nauka». - 2003.- p. 301. 2. Šlāpins I. Kas tālāk? Ko tālāk? // Diena. - 17.01.04. -p. 18. 3. T. Dorst. Quoted after: Naumanis N. Utopija par tekstu un teātri // Diena. - 28.02.04. - p. 15. | |
| go back | |
