Interfacing the Anthropocene Part II
05.19.2015, 8:34 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

“What we call yūgen lies within the mind and cannot be expressed in words. Its quality may be expressed by the sight of a gauzy cloud veiling the moon or by the autumnal mists swathing the scarlet leaves on a mountainside. If one is asked where yūgen can be found in these sights, one cannot say; a man who cannot understand this truth is quite likely to prefer the sight of the moon shining brightly in a cloudless sky. It is quite impossible to explain wherein lies the interest or wonder of yūgen.” -Buddhist priest and poet, Shōtetsu (1381-1459), from Nō and Bunraku, Donald Keene

Neumann2from “I Understand Everything Better,” image by Maria Baranova, courtesy Advanced Beginner Group

(See Interfacing the Anthropocene Part I for an introduction to this post and Interfacing the Anthropocene Part III for a continuation.)

The entire stage was in motion, serpentine waves of billowing plastic.  As “the wind” increased its fury, our main character gallantly attempted to confront the storm that swirled violently around him. It was a pivotal moment of David Neumann’s performance, ‘I Understand Everything Better’ at the Abrons Arts Center.

The New York Times has described Neumann as having weathered “a number of storms in recent years, personal and meteorological.” And in ‘I Understand Everything Better,’ “he reflects on the deaths of his parents, which bookended Superstorm Sandy. Techniques from Japanese Noh theater, along with his characteristic wit, provide grounding and leavening forces.”

In the last moments of ‘I Understand Everything Better,’ after the storm has passed, a father is about to die. Neumann (as his father) is moving slowly off stage, dressed in white attire reminiscent of traditional Shinto and Nō costume. His exit is meticulous. Step by step. In silence. It is a slow, ritualistic movement. It conveyed a process of passing out of being. Another character on stage, serving as the character’s medical attendant, states definitively, “I’m here till’ he’s gone.” And, off he goes, into his “next.”

Core to the concept of Nō theater is yūgen, which roughly translates as subtle beauty, mystery and profound grace. We (FOP/smudge) feel it is the urgent task of artists to discover and enact new practices that cultivate new sensations of, and fortitude for, living within emerging planetary realities. Our hunch is that this is will be more effectively taken-up through embodied practice rather than through representation or description. Neumann’s appropriation of Nō to communicate and enact the loss of his parents — and to indirectly link these passings to the upheavals of planetary systems (i.e. hurricane as metaphor for Anthropocene), left us newly inspired.

Neumannfrom “I Understand Everything Better,” image by Maria Baranova, courtesy Advanced Beginner Group

Neumann’s ritualistic exit from the stage was risky. It was slow and processual. It drew us in closer until we were with him. American culture tends to avoid lingering over themes of death and other limits — and over the idea of not grasping for more (time, resources etc.). Yet signals that we humans are approaching new limits are everywhere. It’s stressing us out. The gathering “storms” signals to us the many limits we do indeed face.

We noted, appreciatively, that when Neumann needed to express something deeper, more sacred, about the changes he was experiencing in his life, he sought “training” outside of American cultural traditions. For thousands of years, cultures such as Native Americans and the Japanese, just to name two, have been refining embodied and often aesthetic practices intended to invite humans to continuously acknowledge their (humble) place within larger planetary realities.  In preparation for ‘I Understand Everything Better,’ Neumann took part in a “Nō Immersive” in Tokyo, under a fellowship grant from the Asian Cultural Council.

Neuman elaborates on his attraction to Nō for The New Yorker, “Watching Noh is like looking at an airplane in the sky. It is slow and serene. But if you were up there with it there would be all this noise and black smoke.”

In the playbill for the performance Neumann writes that with the loss of his parents he “felt a significant change … a new perspective—a type that only loss can bring…” and that Superstorm Sandy lent, “a sense of humility in the face of the natural world, and with that, the perspective only nature provides.”  Neumann has said that he was never interested in attempting to imitate Nō, but rather his work “shares some formal elements with both the Nō and Kabuki theaters, and with that, the desire to engage and activate our imaginations.”

As FOP/smudge, we sense that if contemporary humans (Americans, in particular) feel there are a limited number of meaningful practices available in our contemporary culture that enable us to turn towards the planetary realities and limits that we currently face, instead of distracting us away from them, it is important that we (especially artists) learn from such practices that exist elsewhere — and then attempt to invent our own. Neumann has done just this.

A New Yorker review goes on to say: “In that act of containment, Neumann feels that he found a chastening vehicle for a potentially chest-banging subject. He thinks, also, that Nō reinforced in him the conviction that he has to trust the audience. ‘I don’t want to try to convince them that they should like my show, or that they should feel something at a certain point. To refrain from that requires patience. I used to have no patience. I’ve learned some.'”

As we navigate our way through the limits that the Anthropocene is delivering, embodied practices such as the performance Neumann invented, can offer means for gaining nuanced acceptance of the fast, intense material changes taking place on a global scale.  By inventing and enacting such practices of our own, we can make contact with emerging realities without being left to reel in states of distraction or despair.

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