STUDYING THEATER AND PERFORMANCE FEELS LIKE HAVING THE SAME EPIPHANY BUT JUST IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE.
fields also constantly ask questions speculating on human life. The the- atrical concern of how we can stay connected through art ties grace- fully into the anthropological inter- est of what it means for us to “live together” in this world. I fall in love with the lush humanness of it all every time. What has largely contributed to my adoration for anthropology and performance recently though, are the moments of unscripted surprise that often happen within meticu- lous “choreography.” For me, those unexpected encounters almost feel like the most important part of research or a production. Before I begin any ethnographic research, I spend a lot of time build- ing a detailed plan. I read piles of articles and books related to my theme of research and think about specific events I want to check out, or people that I might want to talk to. I also scrutinize every detail on the internet about my interview- ees and write out lists of questions in the order I want to ask them in. While this step of the research is indeed critical to lay the foreground of the forthcoming process, when I actually sit down with my inter- viewee, much of what I had pre- pared recedes to the background as the real-time interaction unfolds. Even if I start off with a simple, “Please tell me your name and age” question, sometimes they jump into a twenty minute long story about their failed relationship. But, such surprises take different forms, too. One time, an interviewee gener- ously shared a traumatic experi- ence similar to one I had, allow- ing both of us to talk it through together and seek ways to keep our lives going. Another time, I was at a memorial gathering and coinci- dentally encountered a psychologist who I’ve been following on Twitter for years. We had a long, inspiring
Another time I was playing the role of a postal carrier. During a performance I realized mid-path that no one was sitting in the area I was supposed to deliver the letter to. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in a bit of a frenzy. But when I finally arrived to meet eyes with an actual person, not an imaginary audi- ence member in an empty chair, it felt like the moment was swept into a deeper realm than I could reach when I was rehearsing. These moments feel precarious and vulnerable, but they become beautiful because of that. When talking about precarity and
conversation about queer death, loss and mourning, which not only helped me nar- row down my research, but also healed me. For me, the most constructive learn- ings, whether or not they are related to my research, come much more from unpre- dicted events rather than the intense prepa- ration. I’ve had my predictions based on books shattered multiple times as I started the actual fieldwork. I’ve also had days where I learned nothing that would help me write my paper, but still collected precious pieces of wisdom that were and are up to this day, helpful to me as a person. Even though I step into the field as a researcher,
these occasions let me recognize myself as a fellow human. I’m not trying to find evidence for my claim and build up my own intellect, but I am engaging in a real, moving, live world. I genuinely want to see, to listen, and to connect. Studying theater and perfor- mance feels like having the same epiphany but just in a parallel uni- verse. I know how much prepa- ration goes into building a show. Thorough devising and intense rehearsal is usually what is behind breathtaking productions. But as much as I respect and enjoy the rigor of that groundwork, I love how live performances, with so many variables, tend to shift shapes when they leave the rehearsal room. For instance, I had to design a rigged bingo game for a show to make everybody win at the same time. Playing the game in rehearsals with a few others to make sure the system worked, I felt like it lacked energy and I got bored. Then, on opening night, when I saw the entire theater shooting their hands up in the air and exploding into joy, I suddenly found the bingo game to be bursting with life.
LEANING INTO THE UNEXPECTED: The vulnerability and willingness of anthropology and performance
WHEN I TELL PEOPLE I study perfor- mance as an anthropology major at college, many consider the two an odd mix. However, I’ve always found the two fields to be very similar to one another. For one thing, both of them have some sort of live interaction at their core. Anthropology, roughly defined as a study of human societ- ies and cultures, takes “fieldwork” as the primary method of data collection. Anthropologists immerse themselves in a certain field, interacting with what is happening and conducting interviews. This means that research is often all about building connections with peo- ple and places. Similarly, performers and artists are not only in conversation with their audience as they perform, but they are also inspired by all sorts of people and things that surround them in the process of creating. Both
BY HALEY BAEK
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in dance FALL 2022 46
FALL 2022 in dance 47
In Dance | May 2014 | dancersgroup.org
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