METALES NO FERROSOS Introducción

Foundations of Mimesis

The vision of an empty archaeological site is a disquieting one. Behind the tranquillity of the place in the here and now, there lurks the simultaneous presence of the ethos and pathos of a legacy from the distant past. This presence inevitably haunts the present. Standing in awe of the distinctive features of the site through its ethos, one cannot help but get restless while staring at the pathos-ridden remains of a heritage. Whether such an empty archaeological site is located in the Mediterranean Basin, in Mesoamerica, or anywhere on earth does not really matter, for this simultaneous presence cuts across geographical borders and persistently embeds itself in the image—only to haunt the hic et nunc.

The (c)overt presence of mimesis in the critical discourse around art and aesthetics reflects this haunting vision. As far as one can tell from the extant literature, ever since the first conceptual accounts of the notion were formulated in the writings of Xenophon, Plato and Aristotle in antiquity, mimesis held—and continues to hold—the centre stage of discussions related to the study and practice of art. For good reason, of course. After all, being one of the fundamental faculties of humans, the rich stock of allusions within mimesis—ranging from imitation to representation and from impersonation to enactment—is extensive enough to dwell on the entire problematics of art and aesthetics within a philosophical framework. Even individual studies where the main focus has nothing to do with mimesis per se can barely steer clear of the questions that are likely to be posed by the notion. The artistic genres of, say, painting, photography, poetry, sculpture, architecture, cinema, novel, dance, and theatre all bear the traces of mimesis to such an extent that the concept proves to be a ghost whose presence haunts the discourse in the absence of its mention. Indeed, either in the form of world-making or physical reaction, either in the form of make-believe or image construction, mimesis pierces through discourse, and one way or another asserts itself as a forgotten aesthetic idea from the remote past. Whilst the ghost of mimesis goes undetected to the degree that the term is literally kept at bay from the chief concerns of the work, this perennial notion has the potential to turn the assertive pedestals of a scholarly piece upside-down, once it is brought into play in a manner that overlooks its archaic connotations.

2 Notwithstanding this potency, deeming mimesis as one of the most ill-starred terms that inhabits the terminology deployed to describe the basic tenets of artistic movements would not be a naïve supposition. In point of fact, the current situation of mimesis in the critical discourse surrounding art and aesthetics epitomises the aforesaid vision of an empty archaeological site. The colossal bibliography on mimesis rises like an ancient temple above the concept itself, and it elicits awe on behalf of anyone who ventures to investigate the interpretative journey of the notion in relation to the survival of Attic tragedies on the modern stage, whereas the uneasiness that one feels when groping for the very foundations of the term (not to mention the highly obscure origins of tragedy) in ruins is inescapable. Impressive as it might be, cracks on the columns of the edifice are hard to miss; through these fissures, it is possible to get a glimpse of the suffering that the concept endured during its long history. Soon after yielding to the temptation of the ethos and pathos of the mimetic legacy, one takes the plunge and starts to study the ruins more closely, with an eye to throwing light on the paradoxes of mimesis and their implications for the contemporary theatre praxis as (intersemiotic) translation, or to be more specific, qua the actual translation of the source dramaturgy into the dynamics of the target dramaturgy. It is imperative to highlight the additional significance that the notion of dramaturgy acquires in this approach: far from implying chiefly the textual features of dramatic and scenic composition, dramaturgy is conceived here as a conceptual tool, whereby to make philosophical and historical sense of the mimetic transformation of Ancient Greek tragedies on the modern stage.

Rather than marking a mode of retreat from tussling with the virtually uncontrollable literature on mimesis, narrowing down the topic as such is essentially a methodological push towards an attempt to re-treat the mimetic heritage from a transdisciplinary perspective. To be able to gain argumentative grounds on the subject, it would be plausible to start with a plain observation. That mimesis not only resists clear-cut definitions, but also defies any sort of linguistic translation, renders efforts in excavating a unified “theory” from those ruins null and void. Still, this suggestion does not detract from the enormous value of these mimetic remnants upon which Xenophon, Plato and Aristotle have construed mimesis as part and parcel of an aesthetic vocabulary that would eventually shape Western thinking on art over the course of history. Hence, scrutinising the archaic overtones of mimesis prior to the works of Xenophon, Plato and Aristotle is of utmost importance. Yet, this exploration implies neither a search for the origins of the notion, nor an appeal to the etymology of the word. In his comprehensive work on mimesis, Stephen Halliwell cautions against the vanity of such ambitious aspirations: “Although several scholars have been greatly exercised over the origins of the Greek concept of mimesis, the thinness of available evidence has doomed their undertakings to at best the

3 speculative, at worst the futile. The etymology of Greek mim- terms is irrecoverable with any confidence and therefore of no help (if etymology ever is, where the history of concepts is concerned); and we know very little about the early history of the word group to which the noun mimēsis, itself not attested before the fifth century, belongs” (2002: 17). Halliwell’s warning is significant in that it shows, in quite factual terms, how staking claims to the so-called roots of mimesis is bound to cause blind spots in methodology.

In lieu of seeking in vain for a holistic theory in these ruins, one might as well explore the area so as to arrive at a conception of mimesis, which, in turn, can form the backbone of a theoretical framework to tackle translation as performance and performance as translation in view of the staging practices of Theodoros Terzopoulos, Şahika Tekand, and Tadashi Suzuki. The emphasis on the modern theatre praxis is crucial. Along with drawing attention to the fact that practice precedes theory, it raises concerns over both the cogency and redundancy of forcing certain “theories” upon aesthetic praxis—recall the methodological troubles looming over the prospect of constructing a “sociology” of textual theatre translations, or witness the “absurd” burden that Samuel Beckett had to carry after Martin Esslin’s coinage of the term in 1961, or observe the endless pursuits of bringing “scientific” innovations to the realm of artistic practice in Arts and Humanities, albeit, as Theodor Adorno maintains, “in art, all scientific discoveries lose their literal character” (2002: 231). Especially the last point includes extra risks when dealing with mimesis, for as Gunter Gebauer and Christoph Wulf hold, “the artificiality, precision, and immobility characteristic of conventional definitions in scientific thought are hostile to mimesis, which tends toward action and is bound to time’s passage and human productive activity” (1995: 2).

But there is another danger in summoning such terms as theory and science when trying to make sense of artistic praxis within the specific context of mimesis: that of failing to do justice to these terms in their entirety. Since “science” first and foremost evokes its “exact” meaning, the word “theory” ipso facto points to the weight it carries in the field of exact sciences, and juxtaposing these two uncritically would probably not be the best move that one could make in Arts and Humanities. Prioritising praxis over theory and building on Karl Popper’s celebrated notion of “falsifiability criterion” (1963: esp. ch.1), George Steiner underlines the issue at stake: “Two indispensable criteria must be satisfied by theory: verifiability or falsifiability by means of experiment and predictive application. There are in art and poetics no crucial experiments, no litmus-paper tests. There can be no verifiable or falsifiable deductions entailing predictable consequences in the very concrete sense in which a scientific theory carries predictive force.” (1991: 75). The virtue of Steiner’s remark lies in his reasonable insistence on preserving the distinction between arts—or instead, what passes for

4 “theory” in arts—and applied/exact sciences in order to avoid categorical errors. And in that respect, his reflexion might even induce one to cast serious doubts on the most (though by no means all) of the research that is currently being undertaken in Arts and Humanities, even if much has changed since the publication of Steiner’s work and the domain itself witnessed a good deal of scholarly movements that Thomas Kuhn would possibly regard as “paradigm shifts” (1970). Still, with all the stress it lays on the symbiotic relationship between theory and practice “in the very concrete sense,” Theatre Studies seems to be exempt from those kinds of suspicions, no matter how the “turns” that took place in the discipline in recent years blurred the distinctions between arts and exact sciences all the more. The ways in which the ever- shifting paradigms culminate in the ever-expanding boundaries of the discipline(s) go very much hand in hand with the ethos of the age of supersonic reproduction, to paraphrase Walter Benjamin (2007: 217-51). Even so, whether this expansion into territories that are categorically alien to Theatre Studies and vice versa can pave the way for a scientific revolution in the Kuhnian sense of the word, or will continue to save the day with neat “conceptual blending/s,”1

most of which turn out to be of eclectic nature at the end of the day,2 is an issue that remains to be seen.

Perhaps the dilemma between science and art, as well as its indication for the study and praxis of theatre, is best articulated by Jerzy Grotowski. As a response to Eugenio Barba’s question vis-à-vis the appropriateness of the name—“Theatre Laboratory”—of his institute due to its “scientific” associations, Grotowski gives a straightforward reply: “The word research should not bring to mind scientific research. Nothing could be further from what we are doing than science sensu stricto, and not only because of our lack of qualifications, but also because of our lack of interest in that kind of work” (1975: 27, emphasis in the original). Having thus

1 _{Far from pointing Blair (2007a; 2007b: 125-32; 2009: 93-103) and Cook (2010; 2011: 246-68) as potential}

targets, this remark simply calls into question the discourse through which these (and related) scholars reverse engineer the relationship between theory and practice. There is certainly nothing wrong with investigating “what we can learn by applying CBT [conceptual blending theory] to staging, casting, and directing so as to guide and analyze directorial decision making” (Cook 2010: 21, brackets added), nor “applying the current cognitive neuroscience to acting” (Blair 2007a:41). Then again, approaching artistic praxis with such a clear set of theoretical agenda runs the risk of either reading into practice so as to be able to justify the theories at hand…

2 _{…or ending up in eclecticism: “There is no reason I can see that the approach, concepts, and procedures I have}

outlined in this study cannot be applied to audiences for any group of performances in the past. This would include Roman spectators enjoying the plays of Plautus, celebrants at the masques of Ben Jonson and Inigo Jones, participants in the rioting that greeted Ubu Roi, spectactors [sic] at a forum theatre production in Brazil put together by Augusto Boal, a ritual-like piece of hybrid theatre performed before Maori tribespeople and white New Zealanders, and sidewalk gawkers at last year’s Gay Pride March in New York City” (McConachie 2008: 207), to cite another example. It is startling to see how the overconfident tone of the initial sentence subsequently colonises the diverse history of theatre by straightjacketing it into a collection of concepts and procedures, all of which are affiliated with one particular approach. As could be surmised from the quotes, the approach in question is the cognitive (neuroscientific) method, which, more or less, stands for one of the most “cutting edge” research areas in Theatre Studies. And the issues raised here do not write off the cognitive neuroscientific contributions to the study (and practice) of theatre. What stands on thin ice, however, is the language wherewith these relatively promising contributions navigate through disciplinary borders.

5 cut the Gordian knot, Grotowski goes on to tease out his comprehension of research by first likening the manner through which they, in the laboratory, approach their profession to that of “the medieval wood carver who sought to recreate in his block of wood a form which already existed” (ibid.), and then by attributing a fundamental function to the other sense of the word, even though that “might seem a little irrational as it involves the idea of a penetration into human nature itself. In our age when all languages are confused as in the Tower of Babel, when all aesthetical genres intermingle, death threatens the theatre as film and television encroach upon its domain. This makes us examine the nature of theatre, how it differs from the other art forms, and what it is that makes it irreplaceable” (ibid.: 27-8). By siting human nature at the core of theatre right from the start, Grotowski accentuates the ontological connexion between the two. His take on research ignites a chain reaction of re-search for (para)theatrical scores that would yield to re-search for theatre of re-sources, that would give way to re-search for objective drama, that would finally give in to re-search for the (im)possibilities of Art as Vehicle. The impetus behind these investigative phases was obviously the intention to study the correlation between performers and spectators in its crudest form through encounters where the two parties have radically been re-defined as “doers” and “observers/witnesses” (Grotowski 1995: 115-35, esp. 131-4).

On one level, Grotowski’s ceaseless inquiry into the nature of theatre appears to be an extreme case that refutes theatre, yet what he actually pursued via praxis was, in the words of Kris Salata, “the kind of theatre still worth doing: the one most true to its ontological and phenomenological self, therefore discoverable only through its own means, as an oral phenomenon and as an encounter” (2013: 41). This explains why Grotowski’s praxis is doomed to abide within the frame of theatre in the final analysis.3 _{But on another level, confronting}

theatre with its own resources is extreme in the sense that it demonstrates the extent to which one can go in order to keep aloof from mimesis. This reveals a certain paradox. Throughout his re-search for re-sources, Grotowski strictly stripped off theatre from all of its representational elements, but not for an instant renounced his momentous emphasis on physicality by constantly exploring the limits of the human body. Furthermore, throughout his research, Grotowski scrupulously strove to erase the line between spectators and performers, but not for a moment relinquished his vital stress on the coexistence of the two. In fact, this manner of reducing theatre to its bare essentials manifests mimesis in the raw. Harking back to Gebauer and Wulf

3 _{This point was recognised by Susan Bennett as early as 1990 in her Theatre Audiences and has been retained in}

the subsequent editions of the book: “With the name of Grotowski attached to any project, the audience is provided with a particular set of theatrical expectations” (2013: 37-8, emphasis in the original). See also, Lisa Wolford’s general introduction to the Grotowski Sourcebook, where she responds to this issue and “finally concede[s]” that

6 might be of help: “Mimesis originally denoted a physical action and developed first in oral cultures. It has an indicative character, with attention turning repeatedly to the gestural over the history of the concept. Even as purely linguistic mimesis, it remains an ‘indicative speaking.’ The pointing is perceived by the recipient such that he or she is called on to see certain things or procedures as something, in this reciprocity lies one component of mimesis, one that renders into a spectacle” (1995: 5, emphasis in the original). With Halliwell’s warning in mind, this remark can only be accepted with the proviso that in its very early stages in oral cultures, mimesis was a corporeal re-action to something, i.e. to the myths. Thence, in his endeavour to oust mimesis from theatre, Grotowski (reflexively) returns to an archaic notion of mimesis of whose hallmark is gestural/vocal physicality.

This is the decisive paradox of mimesis which finds a telling echo in Adorno’s view: “Even the rejection of mimesis, the deepest concern of the new matter-of-factness in art, is mimetic” (2005: 145). In the light of this comment, one can hardly speak of a non-mimetic work of art insofar as its (re)production hinges on what Beckett captures, with all of its pros and cons, as an “obligation to express” (1984a: 139). To that degree the paradox is destined to remain irresolvable. Nevertheless, by pressing firmly on this irresolvable feature of the paradox, it can be argued that the human body suggests itself as the ultimate medium to examine at once the ways through which this commitment to express is exercised and received. If this argument is granted, then one can take a step further to pinpoint the static trait of this highly dynamic notion: mimesis, in essence, is nothing but a form of corporeal re-action of an indicative nature, irrespective of the countless changes it has been through as an inevitable consequence of the innumerable books thrown at the concept by the critical discourse throughout history.

Nonetheless, immediately after mounting the argument, one is likely to be caught between a rock and a hard place: the statement that “any of the things human beings do or make could be a product of mimesis” (Woodruff 2015: 329) covers a broad spectrum in both historical and evolutionary terms by concurrently invoking miscellaneous oral-culture-bound conceptions of mimesis, thereby placing the original mimetic praxes beyond one’s reach.4 _{It is precisely at}