Redundancia y tolerancia a fallos en switches

This section addresses the axial code gift giving. As before, quotation from three open codes (surprising the audience; inspiring a questioning of the world; making everyone feel comfortable) provides insights into the main concepts covered by the axial code.

Giving and receiving gifts is a recurring theme in TEY artist testimonies (Nerattini, 2009a; b). The giving of physical objects can shape participatory moments in performance, such as leaves or blossom in Egg & Spoon (2003), or fragrant herbs and water in In A Pickle (2012). It can also act as a 'reward' for attention and attendance, such as the multi-coloured versions of the title character handed out after Paperbelle (2010), coloured confetti in White (2010), carrots in Erde, Stock und Stein [Earth, Sticks and Stones] (2005) or exploring the musical elements of the set in SensoryO (2012). In many cases, gifts are used to stop children entering the stage area, and to let "everything sink in" (dan Droste, 2009a, p.51). Belgian company Théâtre de la Guimbarde refer to their approach as “exchange”, stating "[at] the end of a show, we like to plan time for sharing and exchanging with the children" (Reginster, 2009, p.90).

The axial code gift giving can be defined as a mutual process of ritualised exchange, having a variety of functions. These include practices which were given the initial codes surprising the audience, inspiring a questioning of the world and making everyone feel comfortable, as will be discussed below. A central justification for the practice of gift giving is the replacement of applause. Very young children do not yet understand the convention of applause – indeed, in the case of babies under six months, they are unable to clap hands together – and they may not understand

that the performance is over. The engagement of the child audience is therefore perceived as a reward for the actors’ hard work comparable to applause from older audiences, and the children’s attention is similarly rewarded with a physical gift – be it confetti, clay or a carrot. This seems to require actors with a particular sensibility (some interviewees even used heavily loaded phrases such as “performers without ego”) to enjoy engaging with children in lieu of applause, another aspect of the discrete skillset necessary for TEY, as noted in 4.6.3.

In addition, it is critical to note that objects given out to the audience are gifts freely distributed, not distractors as in a nursery or home. They serve the purpose of deepening or reinforcing a child's connection to the performance, being thematically connected to it, rather than random. Sociologist Marcel Mauss’ seminal discussion of gifts notes of pre-modern societies that:

…the dances performed, the songs and shows, the dramatic representations given between camps or partners, the objects made, used, decorated, polished, amassed and transmitted with affection, received with joy, given away in triumph, the feasts in which everyone participates – all these, the food, objects and services, are the source of aesthetic emotions as well as emotions aroused by interest (1954, p.77).

It can be argued that Mauss’ depiction of aesthetic gift giving applies equally strongly to contemporary TEY, as these objects serve to bind audiences in a community which outlives the brief performance event. Numerous anecdotes from interviewees underscored this legacy, with children proudly showing an artist their gifted item months or years later. Physical articles form powerful links back to their originators: “Even when abandoned by the giver, [a gift] still forms a part of him” (Mauss, 1954, p.9). This obligation also resonates in participatory performance situations where items are handed out and then gathered back in, or where a material is produced for play but must be left behind in the theatre after the performance, such as sticks and stones in Le jardin du possible (2002) or clay in both Claytime (2006) and Pont, pont, vesszőcske [Dot, dot, comma] (2013). In some cases, the results are photographed to be displayed online, while in others, the objects can be considered to be 'loaned gifts' which are returned in a closing ritual. This ceremonial, impermanent exchange has its roots in ancient practices described by Mauss: “what they exchange is not exclusively goods… They exchange rather

courtesies, entertainments, ritual… the market is but one element and the circulation of wealth but one part of a wide and enduring contract” (1954, p.3). Thus where an artist claims “I like to think the whole show is a sort of gift”, they could be said to be framing their artistic output as part of this rich and inter-dependent social contract.

As an axial code, gift giving proved remarkably capacious. It was possible to describe many differing practices as being connected to ritual exchange, from eye contact to intimate staging, from the creation of boundaries to the lack of a fourth wall. The prevalence of these instances led to the addition of a direct question for later participants about the practice of gift giving, producing an even wider array of examples. More than 30 separate open codes were eventually subsumed within the axial code, but three are of particular interest as they elucidate specific aspects of gift giving: surprising the audience, inspiring a questioning of the world and making everyone feel comfortable.

Table 6: Axial Code gift giving with Representative Open Codes

Axial code – gift giving: “I like to think the whole show is a sort of gift.”

Open code Sample quotation

Surprising the audience “To see something unexpected is important, to push what they normally see, and turn it upside down”

Inspiring a questioning of the world

“Theatre at its best inspires a subtle questioning of the world around us, and that questioning should be personal. It should be the same for kids.”

Making everyone feel comfortable

“For the parents, there’s that thing of, “Where shall I sit?” or “Am I in the wrong place? Am I blocking the view?” So we guide them in.”

Surprising the audience

Surprises are by no means unique to TEY. The Aristotelian concept of peripeteia centres on a given character’s surprise at the reversal of their fortunes, for example, and many performance events rely to some extent on the unexpected, from a pantomime villain’s sudden entrance to a deus ex machina. Nonetheless, a theatre of surprises for the youngest audiences could be considered to be unique, in that here surprise is both ethically complex (deliberately scaring children is often considered taboo) and intellectually challenging (surprise relies on the violation of expectation, yet the youngest children have few expectations due to their lack of experience). Surprising the audience was therefore contrasted with scaring the audience by many

interviewees, who emphasised their duty of care: “an element of surprise – not shock”, for example. In terms of the intellectual challenge, as already noted in 4.6.3 when discussing the code putting yourself in a child’s shoes, subversion of the familiar can be used to take children out of the everyday into a world of fantasy: “to see something unexpected is important, to push what they normally see, and turn it upside down.” In TEY, unusually, characters do not always drive narrative; in some cases, narrative itself is abandoned (see 4.6.6). Instead, the focus falls on the spectator’s reaction to stimuli, rather than the character’s response. Surprise goes beyond simple shock tactics, and becomes a key dramaturgical tool, forming a gift to the audience which allows them to share in a communal pleasure at the violation of expectation. This bypasses the inherent lack of understanding of the very young, as they observe the amazement of their carers and other children, taking pleasure in it and thus moving towards an understanding of the semiotics of surprise.

Surprising the audience can also occur simply from the limited capacity or intimate staging common to TEY. One participant noted of a dance performance that “adults and children rarely see performers up close like that – the adults in particular are used to sitting in seats in the audience and watching dancers on stage. It’s not a tangible experience, whereas when you see things up close, you relate to them in a different way.” The same applies to many theatrical performances and even opera experiences for the very young, such as BabyO (2010) and Korall Koral [Coral Choral] (2009), where the trained operatic voice is used in unusually close proximity to spectators, which surprised the composer of one piece: “one of my expectations was that they wouldn’t be able to deal with it being really really loud and very intense, but actually they can… they can deal with a lot more than I thought they would.” It is valuable to contrast this opportunity, as some interviewees chose to do, with the classical adult repertoire, where audiences are almost never invited into close proximity with opera singers or dancers in performance. Thus the thrill or surprise of intimacy is presented to the very young as a gift, specially created for them.

Inspiring a questioning of the world

The initial code inspiring a questioning of the world emerged late in analysis, but through applying constant comparison, it then proved to be applicable to a range of earlier excerpts. This is an example of an ‘in-vivo’ code taken directly from an interviewee’s statement: “Theatre at its best inspires a subtle questioning of the world around us, and that questioning should be personal. It should be the same for kids.” A majority of participants made statements about the questioning nature of children,

such as “they’re so honest and open, and they want to know why things are happening… I loved their openness, but I also loved their questions.” Another noted that “it’s not a regular sit-down-and-shut-up audience”, emphasising the unusual nature of TEY spectators. These were originally coded as being open or children not hiding their emotions, as these statements seemed to centre on the challenge of managing an honest audience. However, further reflection suggested that questioning was more than a simple response; in many cases, it was actively sought by artists, both as a means of gathering feedback (“getting direct feedback from your audience is a good sign that it’s working”) and as an act – or gift – of empowerment: “I want them to be relaxed and think, ‘OK, this lady’s acting out a story here – who is she? What’s she doing? Why is she opening that drawer?’” This overt encouragement is presented as an approach that allows children to construct their own meanings from the action, as opposed to didactic or informative theatre forms: “the main thing for us is mirroring, which is why there’s also lots of space for them to fill in the gaps.”

Encouraging a questioning of the world also encompassed a subset of artists who aimed to challenge conventional approaches to children’s theatre topics, especially gender. Within Europe, the politics of TEY are often assumed to revolve around children’s right to culture (Schneider, 2009a; United Nations, 1989) but some participants chose to spark a more contentious debate. As one interviewee noted:

“in terms of political aims, [my work] tries to be open about what boys and girls are able to do and also to question and queer the messages young children are being taught about gender and sexuality… are [the characters] just friends? Is it a mother/daughter or father/son or just parent/child relationship? Is there that spark of sexual tension as with many double acts such as Laurel & Hardy?”

This was by no means a consistent theme across the whole dataset, but themes of subversion and shifting identity were certainly present in many transcripts. Queer theatre for older children has proved deeply controversial in both Europe and the USA (van de Water, 2012a), so it seems likely that a defined queer TEY, as opposed to a queered way of making theatre, would prove similarly contentious. Nonetheless, it is important to note the presence of a queering of children’s worlds, as well as a questioning. This gift may cause controversy, but artists believe that children should be allowed to receive it regardless of any parental prejudices: “I

almost wonder if because it’s for such a young audience and it’s handled in the way that it’s handled, that actually it makes it more digestible for the people who would generally be the ones questioning that.”

Making everyone feel comfortable

The final open code, making everyone feel comfortable, was perhaps more concerned with intangible gifts such as comfortable seating, gentle introductions and eye contact than with physical objects. This code proved to be a useful descriptor of several recurring practices in TEY, each of which involved an exchange between performer and spectator. For example, one artist declared “I have simple ways of making sure they are comfortable: nice cushions on the floor so they know they can sit down.” While this statement ostensibly discusses only the child’s response, and could therefore have been coded making the space special, it also has links to the needs of parents and carers, as is more clearly stated in another excerpt: “From an audience point of view, you want to feel safe, and if you’re bringing a tiny baby into a space, on a purely practical level you want to know that your baby is safe and looked after.” In this way, attending to the needs of children is also a means of welcoming parents and carers. Other artists described the social benefits of their carefully- crafted design, such as “creating a safe space for the parents to meet other parents.”

Mauss’ “wide and enduring contract” (1954, p.3) reinforced by ritualised gift giving is evident in these social exchanges. Some interviewees elected to define themselves against more confrontational peers, perceiving perhaps that making everyone feel comfortable is an essential element in the social contract between adult performer and child spectator. One simply stated, “if it leaves them feeling powerless, I don’t understand what motivates that.” Another pointed out that “[if someone says] ‘Oh, I really want to do a really cutting-edge, dangerous piece for babies’, I think you’ve got to really think about why [laughs]… because actually for that audience, you really need to protect them.” This duty of care to a vulnerable audience could be considered to be the most important gift a theatre maker can bestow.