Maybe there will be no end

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1.

Everything is settled. There is a specific way to do each new thing.
There is even an agreed upon way to break the rules.



2.
Maybe there will be no end, no flash, no blast,

no final show



This is your project and you must finish it

you tell yourself, you keep telling yourself

again and again

all the while knowing that it matters little

whether you finish it or not

(no one will notice, no one will care)

nonetheless you press on

this is my project, you say

this little square of irrelevance

it means something to me

damn them all

this is mine



.

I see now the problem...

.



I see now the problem is that I am a complete ideologue when it comes to theatre: always fighting for a certain, extremely specific, way of making and thinking about performance. I can be fair and reasonable and believe there is room for everyone but in my heart and blood I know that I am right. And when you are an ideologue you can never really be open and you can never, not for a second, rest. Towards my own ideology I feel only like Bartleby: I would prefer not too. But twenty years of fighting have turned me inside out. I am exhausted. No one particularly cares how or why performances are made. And when I was young, no one advised me to pick my fights more carefully. Is this what being an artist, a certain kind of artist (I suppose), in some sense, finally means? Then again, like Ranciere says, how to open a window and let in some air?



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