Propelled by love

Photo: Paulo Pimenta

The last chapter in Mike Murawski’s new book, Museums as agents of change, is entitled “Propelled by love”. While care, healing, humanity, community are very strong references in the book as a whole, it’s in that last chapter that Mike asks straightforwardly: “What if love, above everything else, was the core value that steered the radical change needed in museums today?”.

It’s not just about museums or the cultural sector, of course. The pandemic has made it very clear. It’s not new either. We all know (or have been the victims) of the bullying practiced by those responsible for big and small cultural organisations; by those who seem to have the power. We can all see how many people are trapped in their positions, conditioned, often humiliated and psychologically brutalised, unable to find joy and happiness in what they do and the way they do it. Wishing to be the best you can doesn’t seem to be a legitimate aspiration. Being less, showing less is what is expected.

In the end of May, Access Culture promoted a seminar on values with The Happy Museum | Common Cause Foundation. From a long list of values, we were asked to pick the three most important to us. After that, we were asked whether in our work environment those values were acknowledged, whether we were free to live and work by them. Only one person answered “Yes”. It felt awkward, uncomfortable, sad. How are we expected to give so much of ourselves  against, or despite, our values? And why do we do it?

Going back to Murawski’s book, he refers to the paper “Art Practice, Learning and Love: Collaboration in Challenging Times”, written in 2014 by Emily Pringle, Head of Research at Tate Modern. Pringle identifies love as a core value, and “the fundamental value underpinning what we do”. She quotes Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire: “We must dare, in the full sense of the word, to speak of love without fear of being called ridiculous, mawkish, or unscientific.”

More than once, I´ve felt how serendipitous my readings can be. After reading Sam Conniff Allende’s Be More Pirate a couple of years ago, I am now delving into How To Be More Pirate. Inspired by the Golden Age of the pirates, both books draw lessons from the fact that pirates identified a broken system and went on to draw their own rules, their pirate code, in order to bring change. Contrary to what we might think, equality and care were fundamental rules for the pirates. “(…) criticisms of the system ultimately come from a place of love. They’re the result of a deep frustration born from knowing what really matters.”

Which brings me to what I really wish to talk about today. The place of love that is these days the main stage of the D. Maria II National Theatre in Lisbon.

Last week, I wasn’t there for the premiere of “Caligula died. I didn’t” (Calígula morreu. Eu não), directed by Marco Paiva. I had the privilege, though, of attending the dress rehearsal. On stage, eight people, eight actors. One of them, went to the theatre for the first time a few years ago, once the National Theatre offered performances interpreted in Portuguese Sign Language. He thought that he would like to be an actor himself. Last year, he went to a casting for this play, since it was explicitly open to people with disabilities and Deaf people. Another one, has been doing theatre for 20 years now. He was again on the main stage of the National Theatre five years ago, for the 30^th anniversary of CRINABEL Teatro, with the play “A girl lost in her century searching for her father” (Uma menina perdida no seu século à procura do pai, a project beautifully captured in a documentary entitled, precisely,  “Rehearsal of love” - Ensaio de Amor). In a seminar recently, this actor told us that he is proud to be earning a salary with his work. Another one still, received the Goya award for Best Revelation Actor in 2019. In one of the most powerful speeches I’ve heard, he told the jury they didn’t know what they had done by awarding it to a disabled actor. There was another actor still, who recently told us in a debate that when he started participating in TV series, he would be filmed at a close range, so that the audience would not be able to see that he had no limbs.

I am not a theatre critic, I don’t know which aspects of this work would be appreciated by a professional from this field. What I do know is that these and other actors are on stage at the D. Maria II National Theatre to be seen in their entirety, in the totality of who they are and what they have to share with us. Their performance captivates and fulfils us. They are given the opportunity to be the best they can and they generously reciprocate.

There are a number of people involved in this performance whom we don’t see. Playwrights, costume/set/light designers, stage directors, stagehands. There are others whom we don’t acknowledge enough, such as front-of-house staff, producers and people working in communications, access coordinators. There are also, in this case, two artistic directors, Tiago Rodrigues (Teatro Nacional D. Maria II) and Alfredo Sanzol (Centro Dramático Nacional), who have got a vision that pushes the boundaries and takes things further and further (including their own practice – watch the debate). And there is Marco Paiva.

Tolentino de Mendonça, in his book A Beauty That Belongs To Us (Uma Beleza que nos Pertence), writes that “We say ‘love’ without it causing any tremor or corresponding to an effective commitment”. Marco has a commitment with love; and we feel the tremor caused by that commitment.

Still on this blog:

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