The Anatomy of an Art Concept and the Political Dimension of the Performer’s Figure
In the autumn of 2023, as part of the Southern edition of the Antonin Artaud Fellowship workshop, Anastasiia Haishenets discussed what an art project concept entails and how to begin creating one. Here we share Anastasiia’s perspective.
Anastasiia Haishenets is a theatre scholar and manager of international projects in the field of performative arts, as well as Deputy Director of the Franko Theatre for international cooperation. She has worked as the head of performative programs at the Ukrainian Institute, coordinator of the theatre laboratory at Mystetskyi Arsenal, and editor-in-chief of Ukrainian Theatre magazine.
What is a concept?
Before we begin to talk about a concept, we must understand what it is, why it is needed in an art project, and where it originates from.
In general terms, a concept is a description of an artistic vision. The word comes from Latin and is literally translated as a “system of understanding.” A concept is a set of ideas and views that form an interconnected system. It answers the question, “How do I achieve my goal?” – it is an intentional strategy that helps solve a specific task.
Why is a concept necessary in performative art? To answer this question, we should explore different approaches to creating an artistic product and examine the role and influence of the artist.
Is it possible to create art today simply for the sake of art? Yes, it is. Art may arise from the creative process itself and exist as the result of the artist’s or creator’s inner drive. Many practitioners work within the broad and profound meaning of the word “art” where the artist doesn’t need to be heard, seen, or understood by others. Art can be solitude. This kind of art doesn’t seek to be critical.
Can profit-driven art still be “true”? Yes, it can. Art can be created with the aim of generating income. This kind of art might be described as craftsmanship. Compared to art created purely for the sake of expression, it possesses greater vitality. In this context, profit becomes a marker of success. To find a balance between one’s internal sense of artistic “truth” and the social demand for that expression, the tool of artistic concept becomes essential. When an artist manages to enter into a dialogue with society and historical reality through their practice, they begin to exert influence: they become a political figure, an agent of change.
In my view, performative art is the most political of all art forms, because it directly affects the individual who encounters it in the here and now. This is a responsibility that must be recognized. The mere spatial and relational configuration of performers and audience turns artists into leaders, agents of change in the eyes of their spectators. The performer, then, is inherently a political figure, an agent of transformation. Even when presenting a commercial play about marital infidelity, actors are political figures, whether or not they are aware of it. This is a kind of situational leadership without accountability. And that may be acceptable, so long as it doesn’t lead to negative consequences. But those consequences are rarely examined. Yet clearly, they exist. They may not be harmful, but that is not guaranteed. I don’t aim to condemn commercial theatre here. In fact, it’s one of the most honest genres at present. However, understanding the potential changes that occur in a person’s consciousness as a result of regularly watching comedies about infidelity is a question for sociological research. That’s a task for the future—one we must take seriously if we hope to build a humane society capable of critical thought and meaningful development.
And yet, even now, it is important to acknowledge the potential of theatre, your capacity to act as an agent of change. Consider the responsibility and power you hold.
But first, let’s ask: can agents of change in performative art consciously influence reality through their artistic practice? Jerzy Grotowski, in The Actor’s Work Without a Role, writes: “An actor is a person who works with their body and does so deliberately. But if they merely use their body as any ordinary person would in daily life, if it no longer serves as a vessel for listening, as an instrument capable of performing spiritual acts, and instead is used for money, to please an audience, then acting becomes something akin to prostitution.” Where do we draw the line between a body developed for spiritual acts and one used for performance as labour? This remains unclear. What matters here is to understand the delicate boundary that separates the performer as an agent of change from the performer as a commodity within art. This is precisely where working with conceptualization can help safeguard one’s artistic practice. Conceptualization can be viewed as a form of professional hygiene in the arts. Treating the formation of a concept as a separate stage – testing it for viability using relatively standard criteria borrowed from project management – can help avoid burnout and artistic depletion.
Where to begin?
Imagine that you have your own worldview, a set of values, and a way of relating to the world around you. There is something you clearly dislike, and something you love. Maybe you’re simply curious about how others behave in specific situations. What’s important is that whatever you’re reflecting on relates to you, to your pain points and your interests. That is the starting point for your concept. To be interesting to others, you must first be interesting to yourself. Let what you say come from what genuinely stirs you. A pain point is a point of unease. That’s why you need to activate your inner sensitivity to influence. And remember: didacticism is enemy number one. When writing a concept, avoid moralizing or judging positions you don’t understand. Such judgments are only permissible if they’re embedded within the artistic form itself as a structural element.
Let’s begin with what your concept should not include:
- Showing off your encyclopedic knowledge or using overly complex language (remember: a concept is not an academic paper).
- Self-admiration: your goal is to be heard and understood, not to showcase everything you know or possess in its most dazzling form.
- A step-by-step execution plan: it may only confuse readers at the initial stage and distract from the essence of your idea. At this point, your task is to describe not the “how?”, but the “what?”
- Descriptive sections filled with pre-planned actions.
- Didacticism or moralizing.
In essence, a concept is a description of an artistic intention, which may include the manifestation of the artist’s worldview, a clearly stated problem (a pain point or research interest), and a list of artistic tools you plan to use. The concept can also specify how much time you’ll need to carry it out and what the expected result will be. It’s helpful to also indicate your intended audience and the resources required. Ideally, the entire concept should fit on a OnePager and be written in clear, accessible language for others to understand. Don’t write a concept in a single sitting – it’s a document that takes time to shape – through a process of self-editing and cutting away the unnecessary.
How to Test Your Concept for Viability?
- Choose themes that will interest you over the long term.
- If you’re working in a team, pay attention to your collaborators. Every project is shaped by the people behind it. It’s important to build internal connections within the team, because it’s in this interaction that ideas are transformed into concepts.
- Step into the unknown. The most exciting projects are often those where much is still uncertain, and no ready-made answers exist.
- Test your ideas. Try to assess the feasibility of your concept. Before launching a project, test the idea in “laboratory” conditions: talk it through with colleagues and gather feedback.
- Consider the context. A well-thought-out concept is almost always preceded by thorough research into the subject.
- Understand who your audience is, and whom you’re working for. Consider the communities your artistic project will engage with, what questions are worth asking, and what you hope to achieve. Often, there isn’t enough time or energy for this step, but immersing yourself in the context can suggest new directions for development.
- Treat your art project as a form of communication. The most compelling projects don’t rely on conventional codes but build their logic through detachment or disruption. This allows the audience to experience something new. A key component is the capacity to communicate. Ultimately, art is a social practice: it connects people from different worlds and helps build shared meaning, even if temporarily.
- Your concept is not an axiom. Be ready for unexpected changes. Stay open to transformation, remain flexible, empathetic, and willing to improvise with those you’re collaborating with. Always have a plan B. Projects rarely go exactly as planned, so continual analysis is vital. If something “fails,” that failure can become a (creative) discovery. In fact, “failure” can be a useful category – if, during the development and realization of your concept, reflection and learning take place. That’s how an artist discovers both self and world.
The translation of this material was made possible through 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.
Translation by Yurii Popovych