Wang Qingsong - a volunteer writes
Was it theatre?
We weren’t acting, at least I don’t think we were. I could feel though that many of us would have slipped easily into more developed roles. Take the people with serious injuries; I don’t know whether the make up artists suggested what the injuries might have been, but every single person had a story – machete wounds, a bullet’s exit and entry, boiling oil. Most had added narrative about how they came to have the injuries, and as the morning wore on these stories became more elaborate and more fixed.
As more and more people congregated with gowns and injuries I began to get a sense of the waiting so familiar to hospital experiences, but this was fleeting. What made it so was the mismatch between the expressions on people’s faces and their body language and their apparent physical condition. It was an atmosphere of muted excitement which was in no way like that of a hospital or casualty ward. This mismatch felt OK. It was comfortable, anticipatory and not boring or scary enough to be “real”.
Shortly before we were asked into the auditorium I wondered what this unfamiliar artist would ask us to do, and if anyone would refuse. How might our appearances and apparent roles influence our behaviour. I was reminded of the famous Milgram experiments (1963 onwards “The Perils of Obedience” 1974) which demonstrated the extreme willingness of adults to go to almost any lengths on the command of authority. I noticed the people dressed as paramedics and volunteers wearing nursing gear and doctors’ coats with stethoscopes seemed to have slipped right into a recognisable stance and demeanour. Some of them had developed “important” walks. The Zimbardo prison experiment (1971) chillingly demonstrated that the mere wearing of uniforms dictated the ways in which groups of volunteers treated one another over a period of time. Awareness of this made me poised to resist – especially since I was dressed as a potential vulnerable “victim”.
In the event there was no opportunity for any of this. We simply had our photographs taken, and it was over in a very short time. I felt disappointment which was quickly replaced by curiosity at the suggestions people were making about what they would do next. Some were planning to go and impress their friends, scare people on the bus and fool their employers – I heard someone asking “their” make up artist how long they could make their injury last because they needed it for Monday. This was the day of the Newcastle United demonstration against Mike Ashley – people giggled about what an impact would we make if we all piled in wearing our gowns and injuries.
Was it theatre? Still not sure. It was good being in the theatre and taking part. It was fascinating being made up by a professional for the first time and seeing the process of Wang Quingsong’s work of art. I hope we all sat still enough for him to get four good shots!
Denise Johnson, volunteer participant
September 14th 2008
We weren’t acting, at least I don’t think we were. I could feel though that many of us would have slipped easily into more developed roles. Take the people with serious injuries; I don’t know whether the make up artists suggested what the injuries might have been, but every single person had a story – machete wounds, a bullet’s exit and entry, boiling oil. Most had added narrative about how they came to have the injuries, and as the morning wore on these stories became more elaborate and more fixed.
As more and more people congregated with gowns and injuries I began to get a sense of the waiting so familiar to hospital experiences, but this was fleeting. What made it so was the mismatch between the expressions on people’s faces and their body language and their apparent physical condition. It was an atmosphere of muted excitement which was in no way like that of a hospital or casualty ward. This mismatch felt OK. It was comfortable, anticipatory and not boring or scary enough to be “real”.
Shortly before we were asked into the auditorium I wondered what this unfamiliar artist would ask us to do, and if anyone would refuse. How might our appearances and apparent roles influence our behaviour. I was reminded of the famous Milgram experiments (1963 onwards “The Perils of Obedience” 1974) which demonstrated the extreme willingness of adults to go to almost any lengths on the command of authority. I noticed the people dressed as paramedics and volunteers wearing nursing gear and doctors’ coats with stethoscopes seemed to have slipped right into a recognisable stance and demeanour. Some of them had developed “important” walks. The Zimbardo prison experiment (1971) chillingly demonstrated that the mere wearing of uniforms dictated the ways in which groups of volunteers treated one another over a period of time. Awareness of this made me poised to resist – especially since I was dressed as a potential vulnerable “victim”.
In the event there was no opportunity for any of this. We simply had our photographs taken, and it was over in a very short time. I felt disappointment which was quickly replaced by curiosity at the suggestions people were making about what they would do next. Some were planning to go and impress their friends, scare people on the bus and fool their employers – I heard someone asking “their” make up artist how long they could make their injury last because they needed it for Monday. This was the day of the Newcastle United demonstration against Mike Ashley – people giggled about what an impact would we make if we all piled in wearing our gowns and injuries.
Was it theatre? Still not sure. It was good being in the theatre and taking part. It was fascinating being made up by a professional for the first time and seeing the process of Wang Quingsong’s work of art. I hope we all sat still enough for him to get four good shots!
Denise Johnson, volunteer participant
September 14th 2008
Labels: Qingsong
posted by Northern Stage at
11:31
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