The Object Animates: Displacement and Humility in the Theatre of Philippe Quesne

This article considers the animating role that objects play in the theatre of Philippe Quesne and Vivarium Studio (France). The conventional role of object animation is often characterised by the performer manipulating objects and scenic material on the stage, asserting a control over the environment they are implicated in. In Quesne's theatre, this relationship is democratised. The theatrical apparatus, both materially and conceptually, is set up to enable the flow of animation to be interchangeable, affording an equal agency to the objects being used much as that of the performers. This theatre of animation is drawn through the framing concepts of displacement and humility. Displacement is considered as a compositional strategy that makes us aware of the volume of the stage space beyond the proscenium frame as a plane of composition. The introduction of large inflatable objects, real cars or large roles of fake snow foreground the objects material presence allows Quesne to play with moments of equilibrium, tipping, excess and absence. Humility is traced as a philosophy of objects that transcends the choice, handling and use of material items in Quesne's work. Simple objects take on a specific vibrancy because of how they give shape to the human participants on stage, animating moments of recognition that allows the human figure, its ethics, emotions and humour, to appear.

Encountering Anthropomorphism (Editorial)

On Anthropomorphism concerns itself with performances and artworks that explore the complex of interesting and mutually contradictory ideas located under the umbrella term, ‘anthropomorphism’. On the one hand, it is used to refer to something that resembles a human, and on the other hand it refers to our natural tendency to read human characteristics in the non-human object or animal. Moreover, an interrogation of the concept of anthropomorphism, especially as it is found in contemporary performance, suggests that there is not a singular line dividing the human from the non-human but a vast terrain that houses the comical, the uncanny and the abject. The aim of this issue is to elucidate anthropomorphism in its multitude of aspects, thereby shedding light on discourses around object theatre and ecological performance that attempt to understand the more-than-human world in a way that goes beyond ‘mere’ anthropomorphism.

Encountering the Spectre of Painting

When thinking what paintings are, I am continually brought back to my memory of a short sequence in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. In the scene, Kim Novak’s Madeleine is seated on a bench in an art gallery. She is apparently transfixed by a painting, Portrait of Carlotta. Alongside James Stewart, we watch her looking intently. Madeleine is pretending to be a ghost. At this stage she does not expect us to believe she is a ghost, but simply to immerse ourselves in the conceit, to delight in the shudder. Madeleine’s back is turned away from us, and as the camera draws near to show that the knot pattern in her hair mirrors the image in the portrait, I imagine Madeleine suppressing a smile. She resolutely shows us her back, though, so her feint is not betrayed. Madeleine’s stillness in this scene makes her appear as an object, a thing in the world, a rock or a pile of logs perhaps. We are not looking at that thing, however, but rather a residual image of something creaturely, a spectre. This after-image is held to the ground both by the gravity suggested by its manifestation and by the fine lie - the camouflage - of pretending to be a ghost. Encountering a painting is like meeting Madeleine. It sits in front of its own picture, gazing at it. Despite being motionless and having its back to us, there is a lurching sensation the painting brings about by pretending to be the ghost of its picture, and, at the same time, never really anticipating your credulity.