Performance as Community

This past week I saw a performance piece called By Heart and it challenged my assumptions about what develops community

I had a good streak of luck last week. I found a lucky penny (probably what started the whole thing), found a parking spot right in front of my apartment — twice, got a good Poshmark deal on some boots, and I received a ticket to see By Heart at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM).

In an intimate setting, Tiago Rodrigues introduces By Heart by standing in front of ten empty chairs, inviting 10 strangers from the audience to the stage to fill the seats. This act alone means that no two shows are the same. Part script, part improv, the story ebbs and flows between the strangers memorizing a poem and entwined tales of the past — both of social and personal importance. As the D. Maria II Nation Theatre describes, “By Heart is a play about the importance of transmission, the invisible smuggling of words and ideas that only keeping a text in memory can offer.”

As a person studying community, and as a student who is waffling on committing to a thesis project, the progression of this play tested my own assumptions of what it means to build community. Once the stage opened for participants, there was a big rush forward. I hesitated myself, but sitting in row D, seat 109 (dead center of the stage), I’d have had no chance if I’d decided yes. People came prepared and sat in the front row and edge seats to easily rush the chairs on-stage. I was surprised by the active and enthused participation. My own shock of people so readily, so publicly active reminded me of my favorite lyric, “it takes all kinds of kinds.” (Thank you Miranda Lambert.)

Launching with a personal story to set the stage, Rodrigues explained the personal importance of the text the 10 were about to learn. With conductor’s hands and a flourish of matched movements, he had the 10 repeat line one. Over and over and over… and over again. Then line two. Then one and two. Then three, and so on until the first four lines of Shakespeare’s sonnet 30 were learned by heart.

When spoken together, the 10 could lean on each other to support their memory. If they forgot a word, they could mumble and hop right back into the rhythm. Later on, when each person was solely responsible for a line, the pressure was raised. Each person no longer had the support of the others. It was up to them to do their part in order for the next person to be able to do theirs. In the end, when recited together, it was powerful to hear the group and the individual voices make up the whole. The entire performance was a beautiful metaphor for how a community works; a group of people come together for a common purpose, working together, and separately, to fulfill the goal.

After the show, there was a Q&A with Rodrigues and a fellow director. During this time, Rodrigues made a reference to the community that was built during every show. How each of the 10 people, though without direct interaction with each other, felt more connected after accomplishing something together, for having done the same thing — even if separately. A camaraderie was built.

I’ve had this assumption for weeks now that building community takes time. That it takes consistency, participation, and purpose. While By Heart achieved consistency, participation, and purpose, it happened over the course of 2 hours, much faster than the weeks, months and years I’ve assumed.

Rodrigues’ closing comments swirled around central themes I’ve been exploring (storytelling, repetition) but he also brought in new ideas I want to consider, like being able to read the room and adjust, and considering randomness and choice. I appreciated that he also emphasized the importance of hyper-sensitivity and vulnerability. (Or voluminous vulnerability, for those who saw the show.) Vulnerability is one of, if not the, most important factor on how to build a successful community.

As this was ultimately a show about words, and the power they hold, Rodrigues left us with this remark,

I thought that was a beautiful way to remind us that sonnets and people are not always as they seem and that each storyteller’s experience becomes part of the greater meaning.

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