Protection from the bureaucratic rain |
In the last blog, I introduced the Prague Quadrennial and
the main Georgian exhibit. The Quadrennial is the Olympics of theatre set
design, a showcase held everyone four years for performing artists and
designers across the world to celebrate their love and dreams and to show off
the hard work that they’ve done. Yesterday I went to Kafka’s House, where most
companies that were presenting were associated with schools or governmental
grants, since those were the only groups that could afford to come and make such
presentations. Some governments and companies cared more about the production,
others didn’t, and that could be seen in what they displayed. Some
presentations were simply pictures or videos of what they’ve done, others were
transformations of the room and the space, yet others made the viewer part of
the performance. Indeed, the best displays were the ones that provided the
viewer with a unique artistic experience, that, whether through interaction or
emergence, provided a link between the viewer, the artist and the art.
The name of the exhibition hall isn't a chance name or a touristic trap, it was actually the house where Kafka was born. It was first built as an administration hall for Benedictine monks, though when the author was born, it was being used as a theatre and for apartments at the time. Kafka's family soon moved to a place on nearby Wenceslas Square. The building suffered extensive damage in a fire, the interiors were renovated in the Socialist block style and now it's used as an exhibition hall.
The name of the exhibition hall isn't a chance name or a touristic trap, it was actually the house where Kafka was born. It was first built as an administration hall for Benedictine monks, though when the author was born, it was being used as a theatre and for apartments at the time. Kafka's family soon moved to a place on nearby Wenceslas Square. The building suffered extensive damage in a fire, the interiors were renovated in the Socialist block style and now it's used as an exhibition hall.
Two types of exhibits were my favorite. One type was
unanimously presented by universities, where the designer-professor gave their
students an idea - “Empty life” - or a play title - “No Exit”, “Romeo &
Juliet”, etc - and told them to design a set or figure or something based off
the title. My favorite among this theme was Hungary ’s display, called “The
Collector’s Room.” The aim of the project for the students was to work on the
basic skills required of set design - to understand a character’s background
and thematic interaction. “Each student imagines a Collector with a different
passion in collecting,” then the student must make a diorama of where the
Collector lives. This is even meta-interesting, since art itself is the
perfection of obsession. What makes me think of myself as an artist, for
example, isn’t simply that I write. Anyone would write if you dangled some
dollar bills on a string and hook in front of them. But I - like other artists
- am compelled to do so. For reasons that don’t make any real economic sense.
Another favorite was Brazil ’s
showcase. Each student designed a book showcasing the concept of a play,
presenting also pictures of the set. These books had to mimic that concept
though. If the play were an adaptation of Borges’ “Labyrinths”, for example,
then the book had to be a puzzle to open.
The successful concept for me was when there was an attempt to engage the viewer, to make them part of the show.Serbia had people sit down and then
tied strings across the room, making them willing flies in a giant web. Lithuania had a
projector with a scrolling skyline displayed on the wall and invited their
guests to draw. Most people attempted to draw parts of the skyline, others just
wrote tag graffiti like “Anichka was here,” the creative spectrum was all over
the wall. Estonia
was perhaps one of the best here, presenting Kafka's "A Report to the Academy", where there was a diorama in the exact middle
of the room. Inside the diorama was the figure of a man watching television. On
the television was a weird sort of stop-motion animation. Along the walls of
the actual room were three people in costumes. One as death, one as a
bronze-statue street performer and the last was someone lying face down. The
first two were constantly staring at you, in the same way you tried to stare at
the figure in the box, which was staring at the television screen.
My last mention before I leave off with some random pictures of various
projects is Austria ’s
presentation, called BAR III/IV, which was an exhibit not really marked in the main
corridor. I just entered a door that didn’t say not to enter - which I have a
habit of doing - and I found myself in a very small bar with room for four
people - there was my wife and two others. Also an Austrian student who was
sitting behind the bar smoking cigarettes and telling people to help themselves
to some wine. Naturally, everyone stared uncomfortably until - never being one
to pause about free booze - I poured the wine out into everyone’s glasses, we
toasted, we drank, the student took some pictures and carried on smoking. The
bar was, of course, a set, built inside another room, and through this bad
cover or that, you could see the room beyond the room, and you could see that
you are merely Prospero’s fancy.
Brazilian labyrinths |
The successful concept for me was when there was an attempt to engage the viewer, to make them part of the show.
BAR III/IV |
Uruguay, "Relationship" |
Slovakia, Ice on books |
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