The great sculpterer To create reality with fictious material, that is the artist's and the the author's privilege....... The fact that one is not able to have a relationship to others, have in such cases led to a privileged form of communication, an artistic masterpiece. Simone de Beauvoir SYNOPSIS - THE GREAT SCULPTURER 1. The mask-people on stage. Audience in. 2. The author in. Contact b.t. her and the author. The author notifies that the play has begun. 3. Her lecture starts. 4. She is detected by the mask-people - 'Mask-scene'. 5. 'The presentation of the sculpturer' - scene 1 (stoneblock) 6. 'the meeting b.t. her and the sculpturer'- the scene 7. The mask-people. He wears a mask, isn't able to remove it. One of the mask-people plays 'him'. 8. She comes to him for work.(2) ( ) 9. The dreamscene. 10. She comes to him again 11 12 13 14 15 The mask-people are sweeping the scene, doing ordinary things, talking to the audience. After a while (a few minutes) She enters, a bit nervously. She peaks on one or two pages of her lecture, then walks over to the edge of the stage where the author already stands. They exchange a few words. (The author is not there from the beginning, but she comes from the cafe/foyer after a few minutes, together with the audience.) She retreats, a moment passes. (A possible visual contact b.t. her and the author before the author starts talking.) (If this period of time appears to be too long, it is possible to shorten the introduction a bit.) The author: I look upon it to be my duty as the author of this play to inform you about the fact that it has begun a couple of minutes ago. I think it is wise to inform you, in order for you to pay attention to the rest of my dramatic piece. AND in order for you to pay attention to the following lecture about art- 'The art and the artist today'. I have chosen to use this lecture as an effect in order to make this play increase your insight additionally to its dramatic quality. Yes-... now that it looks like you have become aware of the fact that you are watching play, I will withdraw, and leave the stage to the art - literary speaking... (The mask-people goes and sits down on their chairs among the audience. During her lecture they discover that she doesn't wear a mask, and they begin to whisper to the people in the audience.) Doubtfully,at first: 'Doesn't she wear a mask?'. Then more 'gossiping'- 'Do you see it, she doesn't wear a mask?!' She: Lately the debate has been loud about artists and the art, perhaps especially about modern art versus the more traditional art. Some people claim that there is no room for the artist in the society of today, others mean that the artist himself locks himself out by making his message too difficult for the ordinary human being. It has been claimed that an important part of the fact that an artist is branded 'Spender of money' is precisely the reason that he or she is impossible to understand. There is, luckily for the art, other viewpoints on the case as well. Some people have attempted to prove that it is only the artist who has this opinion about art, but they were quickly cut short on that theory. One of the biggest problems they faced, was that all the artists not at all have the same opinion when it comes to passing on the message. (NOISE!) (The mask-people have whispered so much during here lecture that it has been nearly impossible, at least to those sitting close to them, to hear anything of what she has said. Now, one of the mask-people enters the stage, soon followed by the others) 1.Mask: You have to excuse me for interrupting in this way, but I couldn't avoid noticing that you aren't wearing any mask. She: What? Mask-people: Yes. No mask. We have observed that. (The mask-people after a while catches her inside a ring.) Mask-people: You must have a mask A really shiny and nice one- which only reflects the picture of the person looking at you. Or one with ornaments and rubbish. But you have to wear a mask. (The ring loosens up and escapes towards the audience ( up between the middle-rows), but with 'her back against the audience', in a such fashion that they feel the attack from the mask-people is directed toward themselves. Mask-people: Must have a mask. (Parts of the mask -people switches over to just saying 'sk-sk(snake/hizzing while the others say-'Must have a mask) The mask-people(NOT EVERYBODY) fetches her. They(everybody) form a rank, and run past her one by one. Each time she is passed she whirles around. Each and all of the mask_people give her a mask while passing her. When they are finished running she is left confused and dizzy with a lot of masks..) She: But what am I going to with all these masks? Mask-people: You have to realize that a mask is not enough. - Each situation demands its mask. - A Janus-face is not enough. - Even if it has its advantages. - Mask,mask,mask(etc.) (Big noise, blackout) (Light up. The sculpture, now as a 'stoneblock', is covered by a velvet-carpet. The sculpturer stands in the foreground of his part of the stage. He turns a letter, looks at the address. Then ,still unopened, he tears it apart. Then he closes his eyes and turns his face against the roof and takes a deep breath. He moves calmly behind the stoneblock, and then suddenly and (uforvarende) he removes the velvet-carpet very slowly, and drops it to the floor.) The sculpturer: A stone. Picked up to give shape to my sculpture. I already know - already feel how it(liksom) wants to become soft under my hands - softened of the work I am going to lay down/in on/to it. (To the sculpture) No-you don't believe me. But there is a long time since I have been believed - a long time since somebody have believed in me. (He feels the accuse from the unfinished sculpture.) But even still is this going to be your white skin - just as white as... (further away) black eyes.... Your perfect, cool skin, jewelry... you can be your own jewelry. (She has been standing outside the sculpturer's playground looking in at him. Now she enters, he is working with his back towards her, he can't see her. She coughs or clears her throat to attract his attention.) (She stands frozen - doesn't want to disturb him in his work - clears her throat when he turns away from the sculpture.) The sculpturer: May I help you? (What is it?) She: I am sorry that I burge in on you like this, but the doorbell must be out of order. And since no-one answered when I knocked, and since the door was open... I went in to see if there were someone here. The sculpturer: I didn't expect visitors. That is why I didn't answer the door. (He haven't heard the door, he just says it to - create a distance.) She: I don't usually do such things... I mean, things like this. But I am working on a project about art and the artist of today... The sculpturer: ... Yes ... She: So, then I wondered if... I thought I'd should ask if there were something I could do here, just so I could stay in the surroundings, yes.. and at the same time make myself useful... if possible. (Pause.)(She must explain, uncertain because he doesn't say anything.) -It would have been extremely to my work to get the artist of today... a little bit closer... You see...? The sculp. : Closer? I'm not sure if I... She: - I mean that I have just wanted to see You, an artist of today, work on Your art. The sculp.: -Well.. (He looks her over).. -Undress... eh the jacket. -Lift your arms. -Hm... like that, yes, you can lower them again. Hm, I actually think there is something you can do for me. (Turns against the table) She: -Is there? (pause) What? The sculp.: Usually I work alone, but in this case... I am creating a sculpture of a woman. But, no - I can't use you as a model, because this sculpture is going to be perfect, and, well, you're not. But I'd guess it is alright to have something to work out from. She: (insulted) Oh yes. (pause) When can I start? The sculp.: (coughs) I hope you are aware of the fact that this is not an easy job. It is more heavy than it both looks and sounds like. She: I'm not afraid of that. The sculp.: Come back at noon tomorrow, then we can start. She: Yes. Thank you. See you later. (She wants to shake his hand , but he turns towards his tooldesk) The sculp.: And... yes, you already knows about the doorbell. (She exits, the sculpturer continues his work on the sculpture. Light down on the sculpturer's playground) The sculpturer 2. Mask-scene. The sculpturer(played by one from the mask-people) attempts to remove the mask - (The mask-people enter forming 2 ranks behind him. 3 in front - 4 behind. The 3 in the front row create the 'can't see, can't hear, can't say'-figure.) He makes it in the end, but the makeup beneith is white- he drops 'dead'- the rest of the mask-people enter, lift him up- give him a mask again/ blow life into him again. He 'becomes alive'- He turns towards the rest of the mask-people who are kneeling for him, except from 4 of them who turn their backs to them - He says 'mask- mask etc..' like a general, walks in a circle around the rest of the mask-people. Those who have turned their backs to them, falls to the floor when he passes them, but continue to hum a tone(protest) which they have been doing since they turned their backs. Those who kneel walk after the 'general' in a military parade and exit, and when they pass the ones lying down they stretch out their hands bringing them to silence - all the time they say, like their leader- '' mask - mask... ' (Light. The sculpturer picks up the velvet-carpet, then places it where she is supposed to sit. She enters, she has a wet hair and wears a wet overcoat. She: Good morning. Some weather we are having today. The sculp. : Does it rain? (an accuse) She : Does it rain? You wouldn't say that you have managed to avoid noticing the weather? The sculp.: Hm. (pause) Anyway, you walk around here like a drowned cat. Yes, you would catch a could, and that would prevent your work. She: Yes, it probably would... ( He helps her with her overcoat.) The sculp.: Your hair. It's soaking wet. (Looks around, picks up the velvet-carpet.) Look here, take this. (He sweeps around her neck/shoulder. Eye contact. He sweeps away a wrinkle on carpet, and 'burns' himself on her shoulder, then begins to 'bark') Now. Walk over there, so we can start working. We don't all the time in the world, even if you accidentally careless enough to get yourself soaked. (She draws her shoulders, and walk over to the other end of the room. He begins to work, rarely looking up at her, and then only with quick glimpses, sees her like a model.) She: Have you always been working alone? The sculp.: No, I haven't. She: Was it a woman you worked with then? The sculp.: I don't want to talk about it. Would you hand the chisel lying next to you there? (She brings him the chisel, but hands it the wrong way. - he waits- she turns it around. Stab-him-effect.) - Thank you. She: Here you are.(pause) I know what it's like, you know. The sculp.: Hm? She: I mean, when it falls apart. When it didn't't turn out the way one wanted to... wished it to become. The sculp.: Oh yes? She: Well. I know... knew, once... not so long ago, a man. He was unfaithful, but didn't tell me until it was too late. It's strange how easy it is to say it. I mean,.. it isn't easy to talk about it, but it's easy to,.. It sounds easy compared to all the problems it stirred up. Sometimes one feels a need to build a solid wall and hide from all the world, don't you think? The sculp.: Would you please sit down? (She walks back) She: Sometimes I have wondered if there were anything that weren't pretending from his side. He performed a double-play, all right. And who knows, if it only was double... Afterwords one doesn't trust people that much. (She wants to create trust) The sculp.: -No... Turn around a bit, would you. That's it. -Thank you. She: -A cliche, that's what it was. But it hurts just as much even if it was a cliche. Perhaps even more, because one start being irritated, and think one should have known better. (she doesn't give up) The sculp.: -Rituals and cliches. What else is it(there)? She: -Oh. It(there) is- The sculp.: -A rhetorical question. (pause.He works) She: -When you says that life is just rituals and cliches, you are pretty harsh with those who believe that life is chaos. The sculp.: (He lectures for her) -But when life is chaos- isn't that a cliche? And besides, if something is a cliche it doesn't mean that it is not chaotic. And additionally, you have those who claim that at certain points the distance between chaos and cosmos is extremely small. She: -That sounds sensible. -You know, I got this thought. It sounds strange, but I'm sitting here telling you that I doesn't trust people that easy anymore, and at the same time talk about my ruined relationship as if we were old friends. But the truth is that I have a a kind of- a quite special notion that I can trust you. I hope that doesn't bother you. Because if it did- The sculpt.: -Oh no, go on talking (Noisy haching) She: -When you talk like that you make me feel as if I talk too much. (Pause. She expect him to say 'oh no') -Even if I perhaps sound like that in the way I'm sitting here talking about my broken heart like this. Or when I burst in on you the first time. It is actually quite unlike my way of behaving The sculp.: - Life doesn't contain the balance that is so important to the art- the one that says that if a line travels one way, then another must travel the opposite way. She: - There is a theory, you know, which says that life preserves a certain balance of good and evil within a human being- and not more than it can bear. But I have really never believed in it. The sculp.: - No... I think we'll call it a day. Take care, so you don't catch a cold. I can't keep you here if you are ill. She : - Thanks, by the way. (She dresses) The sculp.: - Thanks? For what? She: - That I got to talk to you. It really helped. The sculp.: - As I have said, you may as well talk, as long as it doesn't interfer with my work. She: (laugh)-You have a great sense of humour. The sculp.: (didn't mean to be funny)- Oh? She: (Finished dressing)- Well, I'd better swim homewards ,then. -See you. The sculp.: -See you. She: -Oh - your carpet. (they have both grabbed the carpet - Thanks for letting me borrow it. The sculp.: -You are welcome (Friendly- gives her 'hope'- reason to be happy in the beginning of the next scene.) THE DREAM-SCENE The sculpturer is sleeping. Behind him a person, wearing a mask, arises (Him self in his dream). From the opposite side she approaches him - also wearing a mask. (Dance/mirrordance) He wants to embrace her, but as he moves(quite calmly) towards her, she moves slowly aside in a way that he ends up embracing his own sculpture. She is standing there and watching him for a while, then she removes her mask and walkes into the playground of the mask-players. The mask-people try to force on her different masks, and she ends up hiding her face in her hands while running off stage. (Light out) (Light) (The sculpturer awakens. Then arises. Puts on the artists-cloak- embraces the carpet. Feel the dream inside him still. He hums: 'I could have danced all night'. Begins to work with the clay-modell. After a short while she enters) She: -Good morning. Have you slept well? The sculp.: (With a shoulder movement)Well... She: -I have. Like a baby. And it killed every little bit of cold in me. (laughs) (Removes her outer garments, goes over to sit down. Looks at him for a while, while he is working- he notices that she is looking- eye contact.) -Did you dream last night? The sculp.: -What? She: -No, it's nothing. It is just a question. (he works again) The sculp.: -I don't know. I hardly ever remember dreams. She: -That must be pretty boring. I mean, not to remember dreams. (He answers with a shoulder movement) -Have you eaten, by the way? The sculp.: -Hm? She: -I have brought some food, since we began early today. The sculp.: -Oh. She: -No, I am by no means going to play picknic in here, I just brought along something to eat, just in case... The sculp.: -Okey. We may have a break in a while, just so you don't starve to death. She: -I don't think there is any emediate danger for that. (pause) The sculp.: -Hm? She: -That I starve to death during the time I'm sitting here, I mean. . -Did you want to become a sculpturer when you where young? The sculp.: -Don't know. I don't remember. She: -You probably wanted to become a fireman or policeman. I have a feeling that is what all boys want. The sculp.: -I remember that I vanted to become a priest once. She: -I wanted to become a dancer(short pause)- balley-dancer. The feeling of becoming a part of the music, movements as light as feather. To be a dance, I think that was my highest wish. (She looks dreaming into the aire while she is talking about balley. He is looking at her- when she looks at him afterword, he looks another way.) The sculp.: -(Nodds)-But you didn't become a balley-dancer. She: -No, I wasn't.(silence) Like an alv I wanted to dance, like an alv in the morning fog. -I remember I saw them once, the alvs. -One early autumn morning. The air was completely clair and chilly, The trees were burning red and yellow, and in probably hundreds of other colours, just that morning. And the alvs were dancing. The sculp.: -Did you become terrably disapointed when you found out what these... alvs were? She: -Fog, moist, you mean? The sculp.: -Yes, exactly. She: -The alvs become moist the minute one starts doubting the fact that one really sees them, don't you know? (smiles) So I'm sure it was alvs I saw that morning. -There are some things in life, for instance alves, who have this ability to transform into something quite unexplainable in a way that one begins to doubt them... The sculp.: -Right. Quite a sweet little story. -So. You can take a break. You must be tired. -Have some food, Then we continue working afterwords. (She does the table. He doesn't see it- scetch-book) She: -Aren't you going to eat anything? (He walks away from the sculpture. Washes his hands- scetch-book) The sculp.: -No, I am consentrating all my attention around the sculpture. In a way that she will become(Short pause) perfect She: -But... How is she going to be perfect if you weaken yourself by starving? The sculp.: -I am not starving. I just don't halt in the middle of my work to eat. She: -So you let... the artist become more important than the human being? (she attempts to loure the human being out of the artist) The sculp.: -Well, neither the artist nor the human being have most importance in the work with the sculpture. It is the sculpture who is the only importance. She: -You mean something like 'Art for the sake of the art'? The sculp.: -No,- you misunderstand me totally. The only importance is the perfect. She: -But can over a long period of time, deny that you are a human being? The sculp.: -That question doesn't concern me. She: -You know... Sometimes your strength amaze me... your unmoveable faith in your work. Occationally I get mad from my work. Then I think that perhaps it boors others just as much as it boors me. But the difference is that they have an alternative. I don't. They can just stop reading, stop listening... The sculp.: -My unmoveable faith in my work, as you call it, is an unmovable faith in the perfect... the complete. Because.. you see... one of those things which makes the art differ from life, is the fact that the art have an ordered shape. The things have shape. They have a beginning, a middle, and an end. (When he speaks:- almost every line signals an end of the conversation) She: -But so is life. A beginning, a middle, and an end. I don't think the art comes in more orderly shape because of that. The sculp.: -In the art you can see the ordered shape. Because, how can you know if your life is in the second or the fifth act? If you encounter the peripety or are on your way towards a violent ending? She: -No, I can't know that. The sculp.: -Presicely. She: -But what about the objective beginning and end of life? The sculp.: -I haven't followed the thought any further. I don't concern myself with deeper thoughts and high idees about life.(contempt) My art is me enough. She: -The individual life has a beginning, a middle, and an end, even if one doesn't know when the different parts are present. The sculp.: -In the so called individual life of yours the things drift past, one isn't aware of the events, or their meaning. Everything... life has become rituals. While the art, the art is thought- through. Analysed and complex. Not as the chaos life is becoming. (She has finished clearing up the food) She: -Well. I guess one see it from that point of view, as well. (She has given up on him)(She folds the tablecloth together) The Sculp.: _The best is not to bother oneself with it at all. I don't know how we entered the subject,- and it's of no importance, but I choose to brake of now, and transfer our attention to somthing of even higher importance(proportions). My work (Eye contact) She: -May I ask you something? Is it the working process, or the result- the perfect, that is of most importance to you. The sculp.: -I.../eh... She: -Or... is it... something else? -Is there something you use as a shelter? The sculp.: -A good question. A very good question. -Is it that kind of questions your art education have taught you to ask? (Pause) She: -Is it that kind of questions... is that the way your life have taught you to ask questions? The sculp.: -That can't possibly be relevant information to your work. She: -Well... The sculp.: -So, since not any of this would help neither yours nor my work to continue this.. , I suggest that you come over here, in order for us to pick up where we left. She: -All right. (Gets up) It is a beatiful woman you find in that stone block. It's a pity she is too cold to ever being able to return the love you are showing her. The sculp.: -(Lenient) It is not a woman who receives my love. (cracks up) It is not a woman. The thing that means anything is the perfectness of the sculpture. She: (out of her model position) Of course it's a woman. That is your perfection. The sculp.: -I can hear you. She: -And you can't find it no other place than in a stone block. The sculp.: -You have no supposition to...(stops himself) Well. You are tired. That is not that strange, we have been working for along time, and this is unusual work for you. I told you it would be tough. She: -(Back to mod. pos.) I am not tired. I just wanted to- The sculp.: -Now. But we call it a day, anyway. She: (Out of mod. pos.)-It is... (looses her courage, attempts one more time) -There is something I wanted to talkt to you about... The sculp.: (with his back to her)That can wait until the morning. She: -Yes. No, it can't wait at all. But we can talk tomorrow. The sculp.: -I don't think I quite get you. She: (Dresses)-No. It is not always one understand one another. That's when one... accept and respect. The sculp.: -Eh.. Quite... See you. Good bye. She: (Towards the entrance. Gets eye contact. Nodds) -Good bye. (When she says 'good bye' it is a figure of speech, but every word comes from her heart.) (She walks out of the sculpturer's playground. He is watching her when she exits- then stands frozen for a moment. Then turns towards the sculpture, in which he seeks an answer. Doesn't find the answers he is seeking.) The sculp.: (To the sculpture)- And you, my perfect, gives me no answers. (Light down on the sculpturer, and up in to the mask-people's playground. The mask-people stand in a circle inside the room.) THE MASK-PEOPLE: G: Questions F: with no answers E: In circles D: Around each other C: And themselves B: I have A: Answers H: To be given F: Ask me B: Let me answer you C: Awaken my sleeping questions A: Give life to raising answers B: You came F: Through you I saw answers B: That I longed F: To give you E: Cause there is a fire in the wood H: But it is not the trees on fire G: It is the flame D: That is why it will B: Never seize F: Always burne (Light down. Light up on the sculpturer) ( He stands watching a piece of jewelry, holds it up against the light, makes it run like water into his hand, touches it carefully. Walks over to the sculpture, wraps it around its neck, soft and gently. Looks at his watch, turns around. She enters. They greet/Say hallo/good morning) She: - What a ... Beautiful idea... The sculp.: -Hm? She: -Letting you perfect wear a jewelry like that. The sculp.: -Oh, you mean that peace of rubbish? I had no other place to put it, so I put it there. She: (sits down)-Well, it's still beautiful. The sculp.: -No it's not. It is just in my way, really. -So if you want it, it's yours... She: -You mean that? The sculp.: (with a careless shoulder movement) She: (gets up) Oh, thank you! (Embraces him. He is frozen like a statue,- takes a step backwards) (she lets him go, fetches the jewelry from the sculpture. Stands still for a while, then lets the jewelry run into her hand.) -It feels like water... or sand... The sculp.: -Romantic nonsense. It is only pearls. She : (Laughs)-Would you help me put it on? The sculp.: (Fumbles, huge problems with the lock) That's it. Now I have to start working. My perfect is soon finished. She is close to perfection. The only purity in existence. She: -Pure and cool like a pearl... By the way, have you ever thought of what a pearl really is? The sculp.: -How come? She: -I suppose you have heard that people compare the way a pearl is created inside an oyster with having a glit in the eye? The sculp.: -A glit? She: -But then it has to be terribly painful for an oyster to have a pearl inside it. The sculp.: -Still though... what is a pearls purity compared to the purity of the perfect? But, yes, a pearl does have a certain purity. Just because of the oyster's pains. She: -But pain can't be perfect, can it? The sculp.: -It can possibly be compared to an artist's work with his art. The artist might, without being perfect, strife towards his art's perfection. (pause) She: -Sometimes I wonder where the artist hides the human being. The sculp.: -There are many artists who... how can I put it, who are conserned with people. They might even go so far as needing them. She: -No,I mean; Where does the artist hide the human within? If the artist is like an oyster, and the art is the pearl-? The sculp.: -Then you have people who claim to be artistic works, as well. By the way, it is impossible to generalize the way you do, by asking 'where does the artist hide the human within?'. I am about to have my doubts about the art education of today. She: - I am not really generalizing. what I really wanted to ask was, where du you as an artist hide the human within when you work the way you do? (pause) It is connected to what I said to you on Monday, when I told you I wanted to talk to you about something. The sculp.: -On Monday, oh yes. I seem to remember that I explained to you that in my work neither the artist nor the human were important. The most important- if not to say the important- is the art. She: -So, you still don't want to talk about it? The sculp.: -Why shouldn't I want to do that? She: -Because I know- because I have seen that you also- The sculp.: (defence)-Because you know... what is it you know? The only thing I really want to know, I know already, and that is my art. (pause) She: -Is there- is there something you're afraid of- The sculp.: -I don't fear my art. It is just sometimes I wonder