Defamiliarization of the Object: Notes from a Lecture-Conversation by Larysa Venediktova
In the spring of 2023, we conducted an educational program titled “The Enchantment of the Object: An Attempt to Read ‘The Philosophy of Theatre’ and Practice the Ideas of Les Kurbas.” The program was developed by Larysa Venediktova and consisted of seven sessions. Four of them focused on reading and discussing materials from the book. We’re sharing notes from the third lecture-conversation, which took place on April 3, 2023.
Larysa Venediktova — performance artist, choreographer, researcher. Since 2000, curator at TanzLaboratorium.
Let’s talk about “Defamiliarization of the Object.” In a book, Les Kurbas recalls Viktor Shklovsky and his term “defamiliarization” (“ostranenie” in Russian). “Defamiliarization” is an artistic technique intended to remove the reader from the automatism of perception. As Kurbas writes, it’s not about drawing the meaning closer to our understanding, but rather about creating a unique perception of an object, forming a way of “seeing” it, not just “recognizing” it. In Konrad Lange, Kurbas finds that: “…the aesthetic moment lies in the joy we experience from shifting a certain object into a different realm of perceptions.” Kurbas called this — “Defamiliarization of the Object.”
We claim that an actor cannot achieve any true “organic quality” without passing through the first layer of representations without, that is, perceiving the self-as-object as something utterly strange. For defamiliarization to occur, one must “step out of oneself.” As in: “Step out of yourself and come back normal.”
Les Kurbas invokes the philosophical concept of “aspect.” “What matters to us is that each of these aspects presents something whole, grasped from a certain angle, as a unique combination, a singular figure, and related to the positioning, the interrelation of parts within a whole” (p. 135).
The word comes from astrology, where it refers to certain recurring planetary alignments. In philosophy, an aspect (from Lat. aspectus – “appearance, form; view”) is one of the ways in which an object is regarded; its perception from a certain point of view. To grasp the notion of “aspect,” let us turn to conceptual art. Joseph Kosuth’s paradigmatic 1965 work One and Three Chairs in some sense marked the beginning of “aspect change” as an artistic method, reflecting Kosuth’s idea that: “To be an artist today is to question the nature of art.” Do you sense the kinship with Kurbas’ ideas?
When Kurbas speaks of aspect, he means “theatrical genres.” In The Philosophy of Theatre, there is an in-depth discussion of tragedy, comedy, and tragicomedy as aspects. Notably, he writes about tragicomedy, where “the comic aspect is rather serious.” Furthermore, within a single performance, the aspect can shift – a comedy may become a tragedy, or vice versa.
There are acting tasks that an actor cannot perform if they attempt to approach them from the outside. What does it mean to “approach from the outside”? It means to control. We control what we encompass. If one renounces control, that too becomes a form of emancipation: from the self, from what is familiar and hermetically sealed.
“Dance is a gait that is felt,” said Shklovsky. But can one control feeling? That is to say, dance is not a beautiful form imposed by the choreographer. Your feelings choreograph the movement.
Kurbas is the only figure in the history of Ukrainian theatre who was creating (it’s important not to slip into automatism and simply say “created”) his own theatre. If you are working in theatre, or intend to, you must think about your own theatre, not Kurbas’s, or Franko’s, or anyone else’s. You must think about the pathos and principles of your own theatre. Then Ukrainian theatre as a whole will begin to change.
Some of Kurbas’s philosophical ideas draw on the French thinker Henri Bergson. One such idea is “duration” (fr. durée) — a core concept in Bergson’s philosophy. He sees “duration” as the fundamental basis of the universe, a continuous, indivisible process of change and development that resists the mechanical breakdown of time into isolated moments.
“Duration within an imagined rhythm” is an ability “inherent, to some degree, in all people. In artists, it is more developed” (p. 74).
By “rhythm,” we mean not only temporal rhythm, but also spatial. Every person has a tendency to perceive rhythm more as one or the other. If one pushes beyond their predisposition, it becomes possible to work with both. The most challenging task in theatre is sustaining the moment of continuity—that very sense of duration.
“When we see someone on the street, we often notice and observe that they walk in a special way, that their gait is distinctive”, this brings us back to Shklovsky: “Dance is a gait that is felt.” Some people are always dancing. It’s worth keeping such observations close; they’re incredibly useful.
Should we try to tune the viewer into something? If what you’re doing genuinely interests you, then it will interest the viewer. Ideally, the viewer becomes free of my interest, discovering an interest that belongs to them alone.
“Art is a way of experiencing the making of a thing; the making itself is irrelevant” (p. 106), this is not about “process versus result.” It means that even if you possess techniques and tools, you cannot simply use them to achieve a known (successful) outcome.
There’s another issue. If you want to get somewhere, you first have to answer the question: where are you, and how did you end up here? “In fact, it turns out that here in Eastern Europe, we’re nothing more than barbarians in white gloves, barbarians of the crudest Asiatic origin, underneath it all. Our culture hasn’t developed through layering; it isn’t something organic. Instead, it’s of a deductive nature… It’s time to abandon the slogan “let’s catch up with the present” and replace it with: “let’s start getting acquainted with yesterday.” That’s a far more vital slogan for Ukraine, which still has traditions in this regard. Our misfortune is precisely this — the assimilation of Russian culture” (p. 100).
When was our “yesterday”? Does our “yesterday” align with Kurbas’ “yesterday”? And is there any chance of reaching Kurbas if we don’t find a way through that very “yesterday”?
This material was created as part of the Per Forma grant program, implemented by the Kyiv Contemporary Music Days platform with the support of the Performing Arts Fund NL and the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science of the Netherlands, aimed at developing the performing arts sector in Ukraine.
Notes from the lecture compiled by Larysa Venediktova
Proofread by Yana Suporovska