The Way of the Artist

On the surface reading a play does seem strange. After all, plays are meant to be performed, not read. Furthermore, compared with the actual performance, the written play seems barren, incomplete, more of a sketch rather than a completed product, as though one is looking at an architect’s blueprint instead of the actual structure.  Compared with other art forms, written plays seem sparse, unembellished, almost tasteless, not like a painting or a piece of sculpture or even a piece of music all of which strikes one full force, as one experiences the immediacy of its impact. Yet, in some mysterious way, our creative imagination has the capacity to take a written play, seemingly a bare bone skeleton and bring it to life. Many years ago I was in Belgium and I clearly remember visiting the restored medieval town of Bruges. It was nighttime and the township had placed spotlights throughout, showing the ancient buildings in full splendor.  And splendiferous it was! The lights were so situated that one’s eyes couldn’t help but be directed toward this cranny or that wall or this window or that trellis. I was sharing a vision of which the township could truly be proud. I was younger at the time and filled with enthusiasm and the excitement of taking in such a breath taking experience. Years later, I revisited Bruges and looked forward to experiencing the same sense of excitement as I had years before. I was surprised to discover that my response was not the same. Had I grown older and more jaded? Had I lost my youthful exuberance? Bruges itself was very much as I remembered it, but curiously I felt cramped, restricted as though I, as well as the other tourists, were being directed to follow various objects at the end of a pointer.  It struck me that the township had so arranged the lighting that there was only one vision possible. There would be no different perspective, no variation and no new areas to be discovered since these areas remained unlit and therefore unseen. No matter how appealingly beautiful that vision was, I and the other spectators could share only the vision the township had chosen for us. Whenever I watch a film or see a play or look at a painting, in addition to enjoying the artist’s special vision, the fruit of his or her talents and creativity, I feel confined, limited by the boundaries set by the artist, simply because I’m a spectator. I often find that there is something missing. I’d rather read a story than watch one unfold.  I’d rather write one than read one. I’d rather participate in sports than watch sports. For sheer excitement, no television program has ever matched the Saturday morning children’s radio program, Let’s Pretend.  I was a child then with the vision of a child.  In my mind’s eye, I saw everything not spelled out in the dialogue. I pretended to be first this character, then that character, I changed their ages and their temperaments and sometimes, I even changed the stories’ endings. In creating the characters’ new temperaments, their new attitudes, and their motivations, I became actively engaged. I became an involved participant, not simply a listener.

I’ve often wondered why there are so many versions of Hamlet? Are all versions equally possible? They probably are since different directors express their own imaginative interpretations of the same story line, expressing their own vision of who the characters are, their varying intents and motivations, all without altering the actual dialogue. As a spectator, I find that the level of my receptive quality is often heightened, sometimes considerably, which enhances me as a person and that is very good.  But, alas, as a spectator or a listener, the joy of participation, of engagement, of being stimulated to the point at which my personal involvement is experiential, rather than observational, is totally lacking. It is well known that the way to read a play is to “take the lines off the page.” In this way, we can ascribe the dialogue to the characters we’ve put on the stage in our own minds, thus making them alive for us. And so, as part of our own vision, the characters are remade.  They become who we would like them to be. Since a written play is not a completed package whenever I read a play in a way other than submitting it to my own creative imagination it seems dull, tasteless and for me, unsatisfying. But, in reading a play, we all tend to identify with the characters.  Except, this identification can only be partial. The other part is fulfilled by putting ourselves into the play as ourselves and so, we quickly discover that we are envisioning the characters in a very different way from the way the author envisions them.

The same thing happens with the story line. It’s not unusual to come away from a play wondering if it would not have been more satisfying if the story line were somewhat different, more in keeping with our own experiences and imagination, again different from the author’s imagination based on his or her view of the world.  How often have you found yourself wondering at the end of a play, “If only the play had a different ending, if only the plot were different, if only this or that scene were played differently?”  In other words, if only the play were more in keeping with our own personal vision based, of course, on our own view of the world. It is the vision of the artist within us all that drives us to change the play to suit ourselves, to exercise our own creative imagination. Exercising ones imagination is a talent we humans seem to have in common and reading a play as an involved participant is surely a way of setting our imaginations free. In this regard, little children seem to be our teachers. Children’s imaginations are forever unbridled, forever free. No child’s imagination ever has to be released. If anything, with time, children learn that imagination is not the same as reality. Giving vent to our imagination can be very exciting, productive as well. Imagination combined with curiosity has played a crucial role in humankind’s development and has done so in almost every area, from literature, to making scientific discoveries, to heightening the cultural sophistication of many peoples.

Unfortunately, spectator events give very little opportunity for this kind of participatory involvement.  In reading a play, however, it is only natural to “fill in” the blanks, from picturing scenic background, to assu