{"id":407,"date":"2021-11-30T22:05:15","date_gmt":"2021-11-30T22:05:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/?p=407"},"modified":"2023-03-15T11:13:22","modified_gmt":"2023-03-15T11:13:22","slug":"south-korean-audiences-and-their-interactive-performance-in-the-madang-then-and-now","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/south-korean-audiences-and-their-interactive-performance-in-the-madang-then-and-now\/","title":{"rendered":"South Korean Audiences and their Interactive Performance in the Madang Then and Now"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Younghee Park<\/strong>*<\/a>, Jeremy Neideck<\/strong>**<\/a> and Caroline Heim<\/strong>***<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Abstract<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Historically and contemporaneously, the role of audiences in South Korean performing arts has been inherently interactive. The T\u2019alch\u2019um<\/font> (mask dance) and P\u2019ansori<\/font> (Korean traditional solo opera) were mainly performed in the madang<\/font>, a marketplace or courtyard; an environment which fostered a more interactive role for the audience who took on a vital role as participants. The madang<\/font> has a collective nature in that it is a shared place: a \u201cwe\u201d occurs among the crowd creating Durkheim\u2019s collective effervescence. In this new millennium, the Korean theatre and performing arts’ audience have re-situated their interactive performance into the public square, replicating the same spirit of critical discourse and civil unrest that is the hallmark of pre-modern performance. This article gives a brief introduction to and overview of the interactive role of traditional theatre audiences since the Joseon Dynasty (1392\u20131897) in the madang<\/font> and then explores how contemporary South Korean audiences also perform inherited historical audience behaviour. The chapter concludes with an example of public square madang<\/font> audience community performances: The Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent, in response to the unconstitutional conservative government artist \u201cblacklist\u201d of 2016\u201317.

Keywords:<\/strong> Audiences, Korean theatre, political theatre, Interactivity, protest<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a><\/a>Introduction<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Traditional Korean theatre performance was an interactive audience-performer forum where ritual, spirituality and folklore combined to create a celebratory experience that intersected with the quotidian. Contemporary South Korean theatre borrows from this rich history and, unlike western contemporary theatre, interactivity continues to be a principal component. Due to this, it has also evolved into a place of protest as the audience voice is not only an important co-creator of the performance text; it is central. This article briefly discusses the multifarious history of traditional Korean theatre and its evolution into modern and then contemporary theatre. Important Korean concepts such as shinmy\u014fng<\/em> and han<\/em> are introduced in the context of kut<\/em> (shamanic ritual) before the madang<\/em> (yard), <\/em>and its related theatrical form madangg\u016dk <\/em>is introduced to describe the corporeal interactive roles audiences play. The article concludes with a case study of a contemporary performance illustrating the value of protest in the madang<\/em>: The Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent project that occurred in 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Interactivity and Resistance in Korean Performance<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n
Ritual Performance and Daily Life in Pre-modern Korea<\/strong><\/h6>\n\n\n\n

In pre-modern Korean performance, the boundaries between ritual and daily life, the spiritual and the ecstatic, and performance as a form of worship and instruction, were nebulous as the performers and audience co-created. Kim Moon-hwan identifies the prototype for many performance forms indigenous to the Korean peninsula as existing in rituals undertaken throughout history as a means of communicating with and gaining the blessing of the spiritual world (14).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee Yong-Shik describes shamanism as a collective term referring to the \u201cfolk magico-religious tradition\u201d that employs rituals that intersect private, domestic, and communal life in Korea (1). At the centre of this tradition is the spiritual experience of the shaman (17) who, through their rites of metamorphosis, can be seen to symbolise an innate \u201chuman desire for transcendence\u201d (T. Kim 21). By the twentieth century, shamanism had become a useful term for Western scholars and missionaries to employ in classifying mugyo<\/em>, those indigenous spiritual practices of Korea that did not obviously fit within what were understood as the boundaries of Buddhism, Confucianism and Daoism (Howard).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee Yong-Shik points to shamanism as playing a key role as the \u201ccarrier of traditional culture\u201d (1) in Korea, with Lee Bo-hyung describing its rituals as being undertaken historically as part of village life, where \u201ceveryday people\u201d would provide guidance to the shaman and join them in performing much of the ceremony themselves (53). These participatory events started to evolve as troupes of musicians and dancers emerged who specialised in the performance of the rituals. It was these troupes that brought what once were private conversations with local deities, out into the courtyards and marketplaces (54).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim Moon-hwan considers the performative elements of these rituals as the \u201cfountainhead\u201d of Korea\u2019s traditional performing arts (14), with Lee Yong-Shik describing them as giving rise to specifically codified forms of \u201cdrama, music, dance, myth, and epic poem\u201d (1). Kim Moon-hwan observes, however, that spiritual and performance practices are often so interconnected in Korea that it is hard for them to be categorised separately (14).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This tightly woven relationship between forms of cultural expression and performance practices is not as common in the West, where \u201chigh art\u201d and \u201clow art\u201d are often rendered as distinct (Levine), and Kim Moon-hwan goes on to explain that while the performative rituals of shamanism may appear to western audiences to be bound too closely to daily life to be classified as art, they are not unique to Korea. Many \u201cpre-modern societies\u201d turn to ritual performance in order to \u201cunderstand the workings of nature\u201d at the same time as attempting to \u201clive in harmony with the supernatural order thought to rule nature\u201d (14). Kim Moon-hwan continues by describing early Korean dance-dramas as being performed without any clear distinction between the entertainers and their audience (24), a quality that is echoed in the modern staging of Korean shamanic rituals, often performed by mudang alongside dancers and amateur enthusiasts (Van Zile).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shinmy\u014fng, a Korean Manifestation of Collective Effervescence<\/strong><\/h6>\n\n\n\n

Sociologist \u00c9mile Durkheim described the state of communal congregation of crowds as often creating a \u201ccollective effervescence\u201d where \u201cthe vital energies become hyper-excited, the passions more intense, the sensations more powerful [and people] feel somehow transformed\u201d (424).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ecstatic, communal, post-ritual celebrations\u2014considered to be the prototype for traditional Korean performance\u2014can be seen as a manifestation of collective effervescence. Further, they are often connected to Aristotle\u2019s notion of catharsis (Freda), described by Kim Moon-hwan as being classically understood in the West as the \u201cobject of tragedy\u201d (22). In this application, both ecstasy and catharsis refer to the necessity of escape and release, whether based on \u201ca consciousness of the past\u201d or on an \u201cappreciation of tragedy.\u201d According to Kim Moon-hwan, traditional dance-dramas are embodiments of the three basic states of conflict, laughter and joy (24). In contrast to the Ancient Greek \u201cconservative concept of fate,\u201d they embody a version that is connected to history, a love of life and an investment in the positive nature of humanity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whilst the term shinmy\u014fng<\/em> can be understood in Korean shamanic contexts as meaning a literal possession of the body by the gods (Chai Hee-wan 150), in terms of Korean performance practices it has been articulated as the \u201cspiritual or psychological product of the struggle against destructive conditions and unjust realities of life\u201d (151), or the \u201cexperiential sentiment of being exhilarated, captivated, and excited\u201d (Choi Won Sun 55) that accompanies \u201cembodied and reflexive artistic experiences.\u201d There is even evidence that shinmy\u014fng<\/em> is itself a creative force of transformation, that the action and interaction of ritual performance encourages supplicants and audience members to effect change in their everyday lives (Han).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee Yong-Shik argues that these two aspects of shinmy\u014fng<\/em>\u2014as both shamanic ecstasy and an aesthetic experience of transcendence\u2014have been employed by contemporary cultural activists who, through the revival and repurposing of shamanic ritual, \u201cachieve not only a sense of communal solidarity but also gain the energy to struggle together against the exploitative class\u201d (46). The thinly veiled overtones of South Korean nationalism contained in the rhetoric surrounding modern and contemporary discussions of shinmy\u014fng<\/em> and the closely related concept of han, <\/em>defined below, are, however, not lost on authors such as Lee Yong-Shik and Freda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Ritualisation of Harmony<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Shim Jung-soon writes that exploring the concept of han<\/em> is \u201cone way of approaching an understanding of the collective unconscious of the Korean people\u201d (216). Freda argues that han <\/em>as a term is widely held to be untranslatable, as its dictionary definition of \u201cgrudge, resentment, rancour,\u201d steals it of any culturally embedded significance (11). This contributes to its mythical standing in contemporary Korea, where it is held up as the \u201cunique essence of Korean national character\u201d running through every facet of life: art, culture, history, spirituality and economic development.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McAllister-Viel explains that han<\/em> contains \u201ccomplex understandings of layered emotions\u201d (100), which Shim Jung-soon (2004) characterises as constituting a \u201ccollective trauma\u201d which has been transmitted \u201cfrom generation to generation in Korea\u201d (216). Han<\/em> is steeped in a nationalism that treats it as \u201chistorical memory\u201d (Freda 12)\u2014one that recalls the suffering of the Korean people at the hands of successive waves of imperialism, colonialism, civil war and rapidly transformational modernity under the control of dictators both foreign and domestic (Shim Jung-soon). Freda recommends that han<\/em> be granted its mythical status in order to move towards discussions regarding its significance as a frame for understanding the ways that Korean culture \u201cintersects with modernity, the West, and the legacy that is its own past,\u201d with Lee Yong-Shik describing han<\/em> and shinmy\u014fng<\/em> as inextricably linked: \u201cClearly, the core of Korean shamanism is the ritualization of harmony, i.e., the harmony between the human beings and nature and between the practice of han <\/em>and shinmyeong<\/em>\u2014the two national ethos of the Koreans\u201d (47).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim Moon-hwan summarises the Korean sense of aesthetic as a cheerful pleasure that is intertwined with han<\/em>, the \u201cmixture of grief and longing\u201d (24) that is so deeply embedded in Korean culture and the psyche of its people, with Shim Jung-soon writing that han<\/em> has \u201ctraditionally been associated with negative and defeatist attitudes born of a sense of power-lessness, sorrow, and destiny\u201d (217).<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
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Talchum<\/em> (\ud0c8\ucda4) or t’alch’um<\/em>, performed while wearing a mask<\/a>, mimicry, miming, speaking and even, sometimes, singing. Photo: Wikipedia<\/a><\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Freda describes the rituals of the shaman, t’alch’um<\/em> (masked dance), and the epic solo storytelling form of p\u2019ansori <\/em>as all serving to \u201crecount in a cathartic manner\u201d the ways that feelings of resentment are accumulated; they provide the means by which han<\/em> may be loosened and liberated and \u201cresolve the han of the people\u201d (31\u201332). The harnessing of han <\/em>as a liberationary force in South Korea began to take root in the 1970s, a change initiated by the twin labour rights and nationalist movements that struggled against successive military regimes in order to express new visions for \u201covercoming social and political inequalities\u201d (Shim Jung-soon 217). It was at this time too that the shamanic ritual of the kut<\/em> underwent a period of revival and repurposing for nationalistic purposes, functioning as: \u201can underground forum for the masses\u201d; in effect, it created a liminal space beyond the official culture, where a collective resistance was generated against oppressive military regimes and imperialistic foreign intervention in Korean affairs\u201d (217).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Han<\/em> is often understood by Koreans as a knotted force whose disentanglement is not sought through \u201cacts of revenge, but through ethical and artistic transcendence\u201d (217). The method of this disentangling is the aforementioned principle of shinmy\u014fng<\/em>, which is experienced in many forms of traditional Korean performance, and in the kut<\/em> in particular. Shinmy\u014fng<\/em> can be understood to precipitate collective expressions of han<\/em>, provoking \u201cpositive emotional states\u201d in the face of the \u201cingrained grief and strained lamentation\u201d of han <\/em>(Choi 55), and it provides Koreans with a discourse that puts at its heart \u201ca driving force for self-improvement and resistance\u201d (Chai 150).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is also important to note that the way in which shinmy\u014fng<\/em> manifests is not entirely tragic, with comedy, parody and satire being an important aspect of traditional Korean performance that seeks to precipitate han<\/em>, and in particular in mask-dance dramas such as t\u2019alch\u2019um<\/em> or t\u2019alnori<\/em>, and also in p\u2019ansori<\/em>. What is essential to these forms of performance is the madang<\/em>, or the yard, which constitutes not only the stage but also the meeting place for the audience, who interacts actively with the performers. As argued by Lee Hyon-u, \u201cone of the most representative characteristics of traditional Korean theatre . . . is this interactivity, afforded by the madang,<\/em> which has had a profound effect on the modern theatre of South Korea\u201d (41). This is the space where not only we witness \u201caudience performance\u201d (Heim, Audience as Performer<\/em>), but where the distinction between performers and audience is amorphous, it emerges as a fertile site for protest, collective performance and ecstatic celebration. In the collective effervescence, the performers and audience are not only transformed themselves, but \u201ctransform [their] surroundings\u201d (Durkheim 242) as seen in the contemporary audience performances in South Korean theatre.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Protest and Interactivity in Contemporary South Korean Theatre<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Wetmore, Liu and Mee, in their overview Modern Korean Theatre<\/em>, assert that unlike other cultures of East Asia and the subcontinent, Korea\u2019s forms of performative expression were not typically documented as dramatic literature. Korea\u2019s dynamic, oral and interactive folk performance traditions existed for centuries as ongoing social and political commentary and a form of resistance to constant invasive forces. As living traditions, they were simultaneously secure from material destruction under Japanese colonial rule and precarious in that their embodied custodianship by generations of knowledge-holders was vulnerable to the mass loss of life of the Korean War. This is not to say that these traditions have encountered modernity unscathed, but, as Kendall points out, South Korean shamans do not struggle to revive practices that were almost lost; rather they engage meaningfully with the contemporary world through their rites and practices. Successive anti-superstition campaigns were undertaken by Confucian rulers, Christian missionaries and Japanese colonial agents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, it was under the 1970s military dictatorship of President Park Chunghee and his political doctrine of Saema\u016dl undong<\/em> (New Community Movement) that the most \u201cpernicious\u201d persecution of shamanic practices took place, with violent clashes and public education campaigns causing \u201cmuch of the South Korean population to regard their shamanic heritage as \u2018superstition\u2019\u201d (Kendall). This was also a time of oppressive government censorship of artistic expression:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

In the 1970s, artistic experiment and political engagement dominated the modern drama, but the artists were playing a dangerous game. Any play seemingly critical of the government, the police or the military, or supportive of socialism or North Korea would be suspect and often closed down. Martial law, censorship and an overall culture of repression paradoxically made it difficult to speak out and drove playwrights, directors, actors and designers to use the theatre to make political statements, albeit often, but not always, obliquely.<\/p>\nWetmore, Liu and Mee<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

As Lee Hyon-u has observed, despite successive waves of colonial persecution and state-sanctioned censorship, not only has traditional Korean performance been continuously performed in South Korea, but, in the 1970s and into the early 1980s, it was modernised into the aforementioned form known as madangg\u016dk<\/em>, or yard play (43). Driven by reflections on and reactions to the colonial period, madangg\u016dk<\/em> \u201cactively inherited the festive nature of traditional performance,\u201d including being performed on sites of public assembly (Lee Yeong-mi). These performances in the open air of the madang<\/em> or in a tent were Korea\u2019s indigenous answer to agit-prop drama, presenting social issues in the form of biting satire, and the form plays \u201ca significant role in engaging audiences in political issues and popular protest\u201d (Jeong 293).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Madangg\u016dk<\/span>, which rejects the illusionism of Western theatre, plays with empty spaces and trivial props with minimal stage equipment. Its playfulness is completed by the voluntary participation of the gathered audience, thus strengthening the audiences’ collectiveness and awareness through the active negotiation of their methods of self-expression and a common social awareness.<\/p>\nLee Yeong-mi<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The role of madangg\u016dk<\/em> in the push for democracy during the post-war period is well documented:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Beginning on university campuses in the late 1970s and spreading throughout the nation after the Kwangju Uprising, madangg\u016dk<\/span> was an anti-establishment, satirical form that focused on individual rights, the problems of rural communities, resistance to the American presence in Korea, environmental problems, class conflicts (especially between labour and management) and the divided Korean peninsula. The contradictions and conflicts exposed by the Kwangju uprising were viciously and satirically lampooned by the performers. Madangg\u016dk<\/span> was the most popular dramatic form in the 1980s.<\/p>\nWetmore<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In many ways, this can be seen as the New Wave of Korean theatre, not dissimilar to the New Wave theatre movements in Western countries such as the United States in the 1930s and Australia in the 1970s. The 1980s in South Korea was the same period during which kut<\/em> was being revived, and han<\/em> was undergoing its transformation into a nationalising force, and so it is no wonder that these sentiments and practices made their way into the modern South Korean theatre.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Gwanghwamun Plaza. Photo: Wikipedia<\/a><\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Following the patterns of traditional Korean performance in the madang<\/em>, an oft-used tactic in modern and contemporary South Korean theatre is to orient actors to face the audience, breaking the fourth wall not necessarily as direct address but as seen in the practice of one prominent director \u201ca re-imagining of the audience as a mirror through which the actors can calculate the angle of their gaze in order to connect to other members of the ensemble\u201d (Neideck 351).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Jeong notes, \u201cSouth Korea has a strong culture of activism and protest, and the country\u2019s sociopolitical conditions have motivated artists to create works that challenge the status quo\u201d (293). The complex interplay between protest and performance cannot be characterised as unidirectional because as Park and Neideck have previously observed, \u201cmodern South Korean protests are almost like a ritual performance\u201d (72). This is something that is not at all lost on contemporary makers of political theatrical interventions such as those at the Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent, and neither are the resonances to the ancient democratic roots of Western performance:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The Greek theatre was an outdoor theatre. It is known for its wild play. Theatre unfolded at the agora<\/em> (plaza), and it was also a communication tool containing the voices of the people. The theatre of the Joseon Dynasty also brought catharsis through humor and satire in the madang<\/em> where people gathered. This was also the case with madangg\u016dk<\/span> of universities in the 1980s and 1990s. It was full of laughter and criticism through satire during the era of harsh military dictatorship. Often, the actors and the audience mingled together to shout slogans and applaud together. The Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent, which was temporarily set up, reminded me of that feeling again.<\/p>\nSeong<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Displays of protest in these New Wave performances were not only characterised by their use of satire to critique the state of worker\u2019s rights, the \u201ccomfort women\u201d issue[1]<\/sup><\/a> and other legacies of colonial rule and military dictatorships during South Korea\u2019s rapid economic growth, during the \u201cMiracle on the Han River\u201d (1981\u20131997) and subsequent Asian Economic Crisis, but were a celebration of audience and performer communion and autonomy, the collective effervescence creating an \u201celectric air\u201d made up of \u201cliveness, electricity and atmosphere\u201d (Heim, Actors and Audiences<\/em> 41), an experience that was cathartic and liberating.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Black Tent artists. Photo: Courtesy of Black Tent Theatre<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Case Study: Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Kwangjangg\u016dkchang P\u016dllaek t’ent’\u016d<\/em> (Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent, but from here we will refer to it as the Black Tent Theatre) opened on 16 January 2017. The Black Tent Theatre presented a total of 72 performances over 71 days, which involved 400 volunteer performers and reached 3,373 audience members (Mun). For most of the members of the Black Tent Theatre Steering Committee, this \u201cartistic performance of occupancy\u201d (Im 321) was a response to the unconstitutional \u201cblacklisting\u201d[2]<\/sup><\/a> of artists by the Park Geun-hye government:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Many artists were specifically placed on the list because they expressed their sympathy for the victims of the Sewol ferry disaster and concerns for the Park administration\u2019s incompetent rescue operation either through their statements or their creative works. As a way of censoring the artists on the list, the cultural ministry had tried to exclude the listed artists from receiving government subsidies.<\/p>\nKim Jae Kyoung 124<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The framing of the performance, the significance of the site chosen, the atmosphere and the audience performance subsumed old traditions and new as the Gwanghwamun Plaza in downtown Seoul was transformed into a madang<\/em>, a site where, in the words of one of the performers \u201cwe can communicate and breathe with the public\u201d (Seong). To best describe this audience and performer experience, the words of those involved\u2014artists, producers, audience members, critics\u2014have been employed to illustrate most succinctly the ways in which the Black Tent Theatre invoked han<\/em> before attempting to unknot and unravel it using collective experiences of shinmy\u014fng<\/em> through the public kut <\/em>of the theatrical event. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Framing of Performance<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

As Kim Jae Kyoung notes, the Black Tent Theatre is situated in a continuum of global protest activity including the Occupy Movement and the Umbrella Movement, but its location in Gwanghwamun Plaza is loaded for anyone familiar with contemporary protest activity in South Korea. Frequented not only by commuters and employees of the surrounding arts centres, foreign embassies, historical places of interest and megastores, the Plaza is also home to regular \u201cSaturday vigils, various cultural events including exhibitions, performances, and concerts, great and small\u201d (123) that seek to directly intervene in a wide range of political issues from across the ideological spectrum. The Black Tent Theatre \u201callowed both the performers and the audience to experience a rare emotional bond through collective remembering of their aching past.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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Black Tent artists. Photo: Baek Un-ho<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Significance of the Site<\/strong><\/h6>\n\n\n\n

As director Kim Jae-yup wrote in his report of the 2 February 2017 performance of K\u014fmy\u014fr\u014fn\u014f\u016di ch\u014fngch’ihak: tu kae\u016di kungmin<\/em> (The Politics of Censored Language: Two Kinds of Citizen<\/em>), the Black Tent Theatre throws into stark relief the relative luxury of contemporary theatre venues:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The noise and the chill of the Plaza make me look back on how stable and comfortable the theatres are that I have been working in. In addition, it makes me realise how separated the arts I’ve been creating are from real life. The noise and the chill keeps the senses alive. On seeing the white breath of the actors, the audience feels a living breath. The audience communicates closely through the language that is heard as it clashes with the noise. Noise and chills are painful, but they are the senses of life that sustain the present.<\/p>\nKim Jae-yeop<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The playwright Lee Yang-Gu notes also that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Although the tent was shabby, still it was majestic. The Black Tent sensuously revealed the real world that we hadn\u2019t been able to see in the public theatres run by the Park Geun-Hye regime.<\/p>\nqtd. in Mun<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This revelation of the \u201creal world\u201d as a relationship between \u201cordinary\u201d theatre and the Black Tent is a theme that is picked up by director and producer Hong Ye-Won, whose description of togetherness and atmosphere recalls Heim\u2019s \u201celectric air\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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If it was an ordinary theatre, it would have had all the negative elements that make it hard to perform. However, we set up a theatre in order to perform, to live in the moment together, and to watch theatre together. So, I loved the unique atmosphere and the Black Tent’s environment where everything from the Plaza was shared, such as noise, temperature, wind, and even smell.<\/p>\nHong Ye-Won<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

As Heim argues \u201cthe political underpinnings embedded in some plays add to the extra charge of tension in the electric air\u201d (Actors and Audiences<\/em> 49), a point illustrated by Lee Sung jae\u2019s post to the Black Tent Theatre Archive<\/em> on 2 March 2017: \u201cI hope that these artists’ and our audience’s energy that fills the tent will be delivered with enormous weight to those who are truly guilty so that they will never get back the power in this country.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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Black Tent Theatre. Photo: Courtesy of Black Tent Theatre<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Audience\/Performer Performance<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The performers of the Black Tent Theatre and their audiences were part of a durational community of protest in Gwanghwamun Plaza, some of whom\u2014such as families of victims of the Sewol Ferry disaster and striking factory workers\u2014had been occupying the site for months as part of a tent village:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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It was not a particular moment [that we felt a shared sense of community]. It was a period. From the beginning to the end, artists, the audience, and the fired workers of the strike camping village, everybody in the Plaza became one.<\/p>\nHong Ye-Won, personal communication<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This sense of \u201coneness\u201d is not merely a convenient metaphor. As Lee Yang-gu describes, the protest community collaborated in the physical labour of establishing the Black Tent Theatre:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In the snowy Gwanghwamun Plaza, playwrights, mime artists, artists, citizens including laborers, built the Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent together and in so doing, they became the owners and audience of the theatre. Citizens became owners and audiences who visited the Black Tent Theatre every day and filled the seats.<\/p>\nLee Yang-gu<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The collaboration between performer and audience in the theatrical event is captured in the following entry in the Black Tent Theatre Archive<\/em> on 10 February 2017, evocatively titled Pin mudaewa saeroun shijak <\/em>(Empty Stage and a New Beginning<\/em>):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

There were 104 people in the audience for today’s performance. Among the audience, there was a farmer who had slaughtered 20 cows due to foot-and-mouth disease. During the scene of singing Jindo Arirang<\/span>, unexpectedly, that farmer came up on stage with flushed cheeks and told his devastating story, then an actor held his hand and sang Jindo Arirang<\/span> with him. In the end, he peacefully went back to his seat.<\/p>\nBlack Tent Theatre Crew<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The song referenced in the scene above is a regional version of Korea\u2019s quintessential national folk tune Arirang<\/em>, which has been described by Kwon as \u201cbest reveal(ing) the Korean people\u201d (11), and in 2012 was granted status as a UNESCO Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. For those not familiar with traditional Korean forms of arts and cultural expression, it may be hard to imagine its significance, laced as it is with layered meanings: from the romantic pastoral scene of farmers singing Arirang<\/em> during hard labour (Maliangkay 53), to the glorification of the lonely life of the travelling folk singer in the iconic 1993 film Sopyeonjae<\/em>, to the use of folk songs in worker\u2019s rights protests since the 1970s in South Korea. These resonances, which help bind the performers and their audience together as they co-create meaning in the Black Tent, can, however, be felt in Jindo Arirang\u2019s<\/em> most frequently sung verses:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If people live, they will live for hundreds of years;
Although this is a very tough world, let\u2019s live in harmony
What is this mountain pass, is it the one called Moongyungsejae?
Tears are flowing from my eyes at every turning point
I lead a wandering life, following the song;
All so that we can try to resolve deep layers of worry and sorrow
Just as there are many bright and shining stars in the clear sky,
we carry hope in our heart<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Black Tent artists. Photo: Baek Un-ho<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Conclusion<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent was a potent example of the centrality of audience interaction in contemporary South Korean theatre where the conversations in the electric air between audience and performers in the madang <\/em>emerged as <\/em>the performance. As theatre critic Kim So-Yon described, \u201cIn the end, the important thing is how much dialogue we could create with the audience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This dialogue with the audience, marrying the ecstatic catharsis of the shinmy\u014fng<\/em> with the quotidian of the han<\/em>, emerged as an embodied and sometimes verbal protest in the madang. <\/em>Lime In-Ja, an independent producer of the project, argued that this privileging of the audience voice through the liberation of previously \u201cmarginalized voices\u201d evoked the \u201coriginal function of theatre,\u201d as it was in pre-modern Korean theatre \u201cbring[ing] back the very essence of theatre\u201d as \u201ca gathering.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Contemporary South Korean performances such as these not only continue the imperatives of pre-modern Korean theatre but extend them and celebrate them. They emerge as a creative protest in the madang<\/em>, embodying all the previously silenced \u201cworry and sorrow\u201d and act as a vehicle to \u201ccarry hope\u201d in the heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n
Endnotes<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

[1]<\/sup><\/a> We follow the lead, here, of Elizabeth W. Son, who maintains consistent use of quotation marks to contain the term \u201ccomfort women\u201d in order to highlight the inadequacy of this euphemism for enforced sex slave which is widely contested and denounced by survivors and activists (17).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2]<\/sup><\/a> We are choosing to contain the term \u201cblacklist\u201d in quotation marks in order to maintain fidelity to the way that this unconstitutional government register artists was discussed in the South Korean media, while highlighting the term\u2019s innately racist connotations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n
Bibliography<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Black Tent Theatre Crew. \u201cPin mudaewa saeroun shijak<\/a>\u201d [Empty Stage and a New Beginning\u201d]. Black Tent Theatre Archive<\/em>, 10 Feb. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chai, Hee-wan. “Shinmy\u014fng the Korean Spirit in Performing Arts.” Koreana: Korean Cultural Heritage. Volume III. Performing Arts<\/em>, edited by Joungwon Kim, The Korea Foundation, 1997, pp. 150\u201355.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Choi, Won Sun. Re-presentations of Han, a Special Emotional Quality, in Korean Dancing Culture<\/em>. 2007. U of California Riverside, PhD dissertation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Durkheim, \u00c9mile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life<\/em>.Translated by Karen E. Fields, The Free Press, 1995.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Freda, James K. Discourse on Han in Postcolonial Korea: Absent Suffering and Industrialist Dreams<\/a>, <\/em>1999.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Han, Min. “Commentary: How Can Creativity in a Social Context Be Possible?” Culture & Psychology<\/em>, vol. 16, no. 2, 2010, pp. 165\u201373, doi: 10.1177\/1354067X10361401.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Heim, Caroline. Actors and Audiences: Conversations in the Electric Air. <\/em>Routledge, 2020.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. Audience as Performer: The Changing Role of Theatre Audiences in the Twenty-first Century. <\/em>Routledge, 2016.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hong Ye-Won. \u201cRE: S\u014fmy\u014fn int’\u014fbyu\u201d [\u201cRE: Written Interview\u201d]. Received by Younghee Park. 7 Nov. 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Howard, Keith, editor. Korean Shamanism: Revivals, Survivals and Change<\/em>. The Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch, 1998.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Im In-ja. \u201cPp’aeatkin G\u016dkchang, Y\u014fgi Dashi S\u016dda [\u201cWe Rebuild the Stolen Theatre Here\u201d]. Sew\u014fl-ho Ihu\u016di Hanguk’y\u014fng\u016dk’: B\u016dlraekris\u016dt’\u016des\u014f B\u016dlraekt’en-t’\u016dkkaji <\/em>[Korean Theatre After the Sewol Ferry: From the Blacklist to the Black Tent<\/em>], edited by Kim Mi-do and Y\u014fng\u016dkkwa Ingan, 2017, pp. 314\u201323.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jeong, Areum. “Representing the Unrepresentable in South Korean Activist Performances.” New Theatre Quarterly<\/em>, vol. 36, no. 4, 2020, pp. 292\u2013305, doi: 10.1017\/S0266464X20000640.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kendall, Laurel. Shamans, Nostalgias, and the IMF: South Korean Popular Religion in Motion<\/em>. U of Hawaii P, 2009.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim, Jae Kyoung. “2017 Black Tent Theatre Project in Gwanghwamun Square: Staging Tragic Memory and Building Solidarity through Public Theatre.” Asian Theatre Journal<\/em>, vol. 36, no.1, 2019, pp. 122\u201343,  doi: 10.1353\/atj.2019.0006.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim, Jae-yeop. \u201c2017-ny\u014fn 2-w\u014fl 2-il <K\u014fmy\u014fr\u014fn\u014f\u016di ch\u014fngch’ihak:tu kae\u016di kungmin<\/a>\u201d [\u201cFebruary 2, 2017 <The Politics of Censored Language: Two Kinds of Citizen>\u201d]. Black Tent Theatre Archive<\/em>, 3 Feb. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim, Moon-hwan. “The Essence of Traditional Performing Arts.” Koreana: Korean Cultural Heritage. Volume III. Performing Arts<\/em>, edited by Joungwon Kim, The Korea Foundation, 1997, pp. 14\u201327.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kim, Tae-gong. \u201cWhat is Korean Shamanism?\u201d Korean Shamanism: Revivals, Survivals and Change<\/em>, edited by Keith Howard, The Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch, 1998, pp. 15\u201332.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kwon, Oh-sung. \u201cAn Overview of Arirang: Musicology Characteristic and International Analyses of Arirang.\u201d Music of Korea<\/em>, edited by Yong-Shik Lee, National Center for Korean Performing Arts, 2007, pp. 8\u201324.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Bo-hyung. “Sori.” Koreana: Korean Cultural Heritage. Volume III. Performing Arts<\/em>, edited by Joungwon Kim, The Korea Foundation, 1997, pp. 48\u201357.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Hyon-u. “The Yard and Korean Shakespeare.” Multicultural Shakespeare<\/em>, vol. 10, no. 25, 2013, pp. 41\u201352.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Sung jae. \u201c[Kongyu] Mom oech’ida!<\/a>\u201d [\u201c[Share] Shout Out!\u201d]. Black Tent Theatre Archive<\/em>, 2 Mar. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Yang-gu. \u201cKwangjangg\u016dkchang P\u016dllaek t’ent’\u016d \u2018Pomi onda<\/a>\u2019\u201d [Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent \u2018Spring is coming\u2019\u201d]. Sahoeby\u014fnhy\u014fngnodongjadang<\/em> [Social Transformation Workers’ Party<\/em>], 2 Mar. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Yeong-mi. \u201cMadangg\u016dk<\/a>.\u201d Han’gungminjongmunhwadaebaekkwasaj\u014fn <\/em>[Encyclopedia of Korean Culture<\/em>], Han’guk’akchungangy\u014fn’guw\u014fn [Academy of Korean Studies], 2010.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lee, Yong-Shik. Shaman Ritual Music in Korea<\/em>. Jimoondang, 2004.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Levine, Lawrence. Highbrow Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America<\/em>, Harvard UP, 1994.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maliangkay, Roald. Broken Voices: Postcolonial Entanglements and the Preservation of Korea\u2019s Central Folksong Traditions<\/em>. U of Hawaii P, 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McAllister-Viel, Tara. “Speaking with an International Voice?” Contemporary Theatre Review<\/em>, vol. 17, no. 1, 2007, pp. 97\u2013106, doi: 10.1080\/10486800601096204.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mun, Hak-su. \u201cK\u016dkchangi minjuju\u016di y\u014fksaga toego, y\u014fn’g\u016dgi hy\u014fngmy\u014fngj\u014fng haengwiga twaetta<\/a>\u201d [\u201cThe Theater Became the History of Democracy, and the Theater Became a Revolutionary Act\u201d]. Kyunghyang Shinmun<\/em>, 26 Mar. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neideck, Jeremy. \u201c\u2018We Need to Keep One Eye Open . . .\u2019 Approaching Butoh at Sites of Personal and Cultural Resistance.\u201d The Routledge Companion to Butoh Performance<\/em>, edited by Bruce Baird and Rosemary Candelario, Routledge, 2018, pp. 343\u201357.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Park, Younghee, and Jeremy Neideck. “A Single Drop of Water: Vulnerability, Invisibility, and Accountability in South Korean Theatre\u2019s Moment of Crisis<\/a>.” Performance Paradigm: A Journal of Performance & Contemporary Culture<\/em> 15, 2020, pp. 56\u201380.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seong, Ha-hun. \u201cPpaeatkin mudaen\u016dn kwangjange sew\u014fjy\u014ftta . . .  Kwangjangg\u016dkchang P\u016dllaek t’ent’\u016d<\/a>\u201d [\u201cThe Stolen Stage Was Set Up in the Square . . . Plaza Theatre in the Black Tent\u201d]. OhmyStar News<\/em>, 25 Jan. 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shim, Jung-soon. “The Shaman and the Epic Theatre: The Nature of Han in the Korean Theatre.” New Theatre Quarterly<\/em>, vol. 20, no. 79, 2004, pp. 216\u201324.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Van Zile, Judy. “Movement in Shamanic Contexts: An Inquiry.” Korean Shamanism: Revivals, Survivals and Change<\/em>, edited by Keith Howard, The Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch, 1998, pp. 153\u201386.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wetmore, Kevin J, Siyuan Liu, and Erin B Mee. “Modern Korean Theatre.” Modern Asian Theatre and Performance 1900\u20132000<\/em>, Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2014, pp. 143\u201368. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

*<\/a>Younghee Park<\/strong> is an independent artist working as a performer, director, facilitator and educator, with over 25 years of professional experience in a broad range of settings, including adult and children\u2019s theatre, film and television in South Korea, Australia, America, Japan, Germany and China. Younghee specialises in bilingual theatre, especially for children and families, and has trained in traditional Korean music and dance, and studied pansori (traditional Korean opera) under the tutelage of National Living Treasure, Han Seung-ho. Recently, Younghee has emerged as a prominent voice in the Korean #MeToo movement and works as an activist, helping to dismantle environments in which abuse can flourish in the theatre and film industries. Younghee is currently undertaking a Master of Philosophy at Queensland University of Technology titled \u201cTheatre Making in the Age of #MeToo: A Framework for Making Safe Creative Spaces.\u201d <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

**<\/a>Jeremy Neideck<\/strong> is a lecturer in Theatre at QUT and an Early Career Researcher. He is a performance maker and academic who has worked between Australia and Korea for fifteen years, investigating the interweaving of cultures in performance and the modelling of new and inclusive social realities. He has undertaken residencies at The National Art Studio of Korea, The National Changgeuk Company of Korea and The Necessary Stage (Singapore). His work for Motherboard Productions has been nominated for a Matilda award and sold-out seasons at Metro Arts, Brisbane Festival, World Theatre Festival, HiSeoul Festival and the Seoul International Dance Festival (SiDANCE). Jeremy holds a PhD from Queensland University of Technology (QUT), where he currently teaches across the disciplines of acting, drama, music and dance. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

***<\/a>Caroline Heim<\/strong> is an Associate Professor in Drama in the Creative Industries Faculty at QUT. Caroline\u2019s PhD (University of Queensland) explored and trialled a new model for post-performance discussions. Her primary areas of research are theatre audiences and actor-audience psychological conversations. Caroline has written two books: Audience as Performer: The Changing Role of Theatre Audiences in the Twenty-First Century <\/em>(Routledge, 2016) and Actors and Audiences: Conversations in the Electric Air <\/em>(Routledge, 2020). Her forthcoming book Building Resilient Realtionships: Hyperindividuality, Social Isolation and the Mental Health Crisis <\/em>will be published in Routledge\u2019s Mental Health Professionals series in 2022. She has published in various international journals. Before entering academia, Caroline graduated from the American Academy of Dramatic Art in New York with a Drama League Award. She worked as a performer on the New York and major U.S. capital city stages in lead roles for seven years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9<\/strong> 2021 Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim
Critical Stages\/Sc\u00e8nes critiques<\/em> e-ISSN: 2409-7411<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"Creative<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

This work is licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution International License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":409,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-407","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-national-reports"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/11\/featured-2.jpg?fit=800%2C532&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":551,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/sir-antony-sher-actor-artist-diarist-novelist-playwright\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":0},"title":"Sir Antony Sher: Actor, Artist, Diarist, Novelist, Playwright","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"December 13, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Ian Herbert* Antony Sher, who has died from cancer at the age of 72 (14 June 1949\u20132 December 2021), has been frequently described as one of the greatest actors of his generation, a view shared by HRH Prince Charles, an avid Shakespeare enthusiast, who named him in 2017 as his\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "In Memoriam"","block_context":{"text":"In Memoriam","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/in-memoriam\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/Antony-Sher-feat.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/Antony-Sher-feat.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/Antony-Sher-feat.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/Antony-Sher-feat.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":122,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/on-false-intimacies-and-anti-cathartic-modalities-of-being-in-the-digital-performances-of-crisis\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":1},"title":"On False Intimacies and Anti-Cathartic Modalities of Being in the Digital Performances of Crisis","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"October 19, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Yana Meerzon* Abstract I propose a paradox: the novel experience of the COVID-19 induced digital spectatorship re-enforced the fundamental laws of live theatre viewing, although it proved to be utterly anti-cathartic. This experience revealed that despite its digital mode of transmission, theatre can foster affectual (co)presence of its viewers, our\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Critics on Criticism"","block_context":{"text":"Critics on Criticism","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/critics-on-criticism\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image10.jpeg?fit=800%2C449&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image10.jpeg?fit=800%2C449&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image10.jpeg?fit=800%2C449&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image10.jpeg?fit=800%2C449&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":80,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/re-visiting-greek-national-narrative-through-devised-theatre-practices-the-case-of-michael-marmarinos\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":2},"title":"Re-visiting Greek National Narrative through Devised Theatre Practices: The Case of Michael Marmarinos","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"October 28, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Constantina Ziropoulou* Abstract Director and actor Michael Marmarinos is an iconic figure of the avant-garde Greek theatre of recent decades. One of the most prominent Greek theatre directors active since the 1980s, Marmarinos has been associated with subversive performances of ancient Greek and classical European drama. As a director, he\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Essays"","block_context":{"text":"Essays","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/essays\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image5-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image5-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image5-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image5-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":141,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/embodying-history-preserving-memories-of-holocaust-survivors-through-performance\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":3},"title":"Embodying History: Preserving Memories of Holocaust Survivors Through Performance","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"October 30, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Anthony Hostetter* Abstract Manya Frydman Perel (born in 1924) survived eight concentration camps and dedicated almost fifty years of her life to educating thousands of students on the horrors of Nazi crimes against humanity. Her death on July 29, 2020, inspired the foundation of \"The Manya Project\" that pays homage\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Essays"","block_context":{"text":"Essays","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/essays\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image2-5.jpeg?fit=800%2C600&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image2-5.jpeg?fit=800%2C600&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image2-5.jpeg?fit=800%2C600&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/10\/image2-5.jpeg?fit=800%2C600&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":246,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/endangered-theatre-a-philippine-notebook\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":4},"title":"Endangered Theatre: A Philippine Notebook","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"December 22, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Katrina Stuart Santiago* Abstract This is a critical assessment of Philippine theatre in Manila based on ruptures in its status quo of silence over fundamental divides based on language and privilege, as well as important issues of neo-coloniality, inequality, and injustice. The essay argues that the surfacing of these crises\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "National Reports"","block_context":{"text":"National Reports","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/national-reports\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/11\/image6b-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C531&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/11\/image6b-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C531&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/11\/image6b-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C531&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/11\/image6b-1.jpeg?fit=800%2C531&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":711,"url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/phenomena-of-recycling-in-the-context-of-the-current-independent-scene-in-slovakia\/","url_meta":{"origin":407,"position":5},"title":"Phenomena of Recycling in the Context of the Current Independent Scene in Slovakia","author":"Younghee Park, Jeremy Neideck and Caroline Heim","date":"December 18, 2021","format":false,"excerpt":"Miroslav Ballay* Abstract The present study explores areas of contemporary independent theatre culture in Slovakia. It maps out a range of phenomena which are drawn from current theatre practice and offers several interpretive probes into selected stage and performative works. The theme of recycling is foregrounded in various contexts of\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Conference Papers"","block_context":{"text":"Conference Papers","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/category\/conference-papers\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/image4-1.jpg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/image4-1.jpg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/image4-1.jpg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2021\/12\/image4-1.jpg?fit=800%2C533&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=407"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":966,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407\/revisions\/966"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/409"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=407"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=407"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=407"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}