Odin Teatret

Odin Teatret
Theatre in a New Century

Adam J. Ledger
Lecturer in Drama and Theatre Arts, University of Birmingham, UK
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
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For D.S.L. and D.M.L.
… and the angel said to him, ‘you have been left alone’. And he
answered, ‘yes, but I stretch out my hand and I wish that those who
touch it, those who accept it, will be those who in ten, in twenty, in
thirty years, still will be able to say, “yes, we have seen, we remember,
we keep the memory of what happened and what can happen again;
differently, but what can happen”’.
White as Jasmine
Contents

Illustrations viii
Foreword x
Acknowledgements xiii

Introduction 1
1 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 32
2 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 62
3 Performances 86
4 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 129
5 Intercultural Theatre 159
Afterword: Faces of the Future 192

Notes 197

Bibliography 204

Index 212

vii
Illustrations

Cover image: Roberta Carreri and Jan Ferslev in Salt

0.1 Odin Teatret, Holstebro, Denmark 6
0.2 Map of activities of the Nordisk
Teaterlaboratorium, 2010 12
0.3 Eugenio Barba at the 13th ISTA, Seville, Spain, 2004 19
1.1 Julia Varley in The Dead Brother 40
1.2 Barba directing ISTA participants, 2005 46
2.1 Væksthus during rehearsals for The Chronic Life 79
2.2 Roberta Carreri teaching at the 14th ISTA,
Wroclaw and Krzyzowa 82
3.1 Mr Peanut in white, Holstebro Festuge 2008 92
3.2 Inside the Skeleton of the Whale 96
3.3 Great Cities Under the Moon 100
3.4 Iben Nagel Rasmussen in Ester’s Book 109
3.5 Salt 111
3.6 Roberta Carreri and Jan Ferslev in Salt 112
3.7 Rehearsal of Andersen’s Dream 118
3.8 Andersen’s Dream 119
3.9 Torgeir Wethal in Andersen’s Dream 121
3.10 Sofia Monsalve and Kai Bredholt in The Chronic Life 125
3.11 Roberta Carreri in The Chronic Life 126
4.1 Holstebro Festuge 2008 133
4.2 Odin Teatret in Ayacucho, Peru, 1998 137
4.3 Barter in Skarrild village, Denmark, August 2003,
with Cuban and Danish musicians and local choirs 141
4.4 The straw square, Holstebro Festuge 2008 144
4.5 Holstebro Festuge 2008 150

viii
 Illustrations ix

5.1 I Wayan Bawa teaching at the 2005 Wroclaw ISTA 164

5.2 Tage Larsen teaching at the 13th ISTA, Seville 169
5.3 Augusto Omolú in Orô de Otelo 172
5.4 Theatre Anthropology: Akira Matsui, Julia Varley,
Augusto Omolú, 14th ISTA, Wroclaw 174
5.5 Ur-Hamlet 177
5.6 Ni Made Partini in The Marriage of Medea 186
5.7 Tage Larsen, Julia Varley, Ni Made Partini, the
Jasonites and the Gambuh Desa Batuan Ensemble in
The Marriage of Medea 187
Foreword

For both Marx and Ortega … what we are, or what

we can be, does not come ready made. We have,
perpetually and never-endingly, to be making our-
selves. That is what life is, what history is, and what
it means to produce. And that … is what it means
to be human.
Tim Ingold, Being Alive, 2011, p. 7

Eugenio Barba and Odin Teatret need no introduction; however, their

ever-evolving body of work, the processes they use to make their work,
the ideas and concepts used to frame and reflect upon that work, and
the complex network of sociocultural relationships that inform that
important work do need constant updating. Adam Ledger’s Odin
Teatret: Theatre in a New Century describes, traces and reflects upon
how Barba and the Odin have been ‘perpetually and never-endingly’
remaking themselves since the company was founded in 1964.
Given the wealth of publications on (or by) Barba and the Odin
focused on their earlier histories and practices, Ledger pays par-
ticular attention to the company’s most recent modes of remaking
since 2000 – an interweaving of (always ageing) parallel lives and
relationships: the common life of this company within a labora-
tory theatre setting; the company’s life and relationship within the
town of Holstebro, Denmark, where on invitation a place/space to
inhabit began to be developed in 1966; the company’s relationships
to a network of local/international communities and locations; and
the company as a set of distinct and disparate individual lives each
with her own unique cultural/linguistic history and artistic interests
and aspirations. As Ledger’s book makes clear, the company’s ever-
evolving ways of remaking and transforming itself in relation to the
practices, networks and environments within which its work has
been made is what has allowed a company like Odin to have not just
survived but to have continuously flourished. Ledger captures the
fragility that necessarily accompanies Odin’s longevity by reminding
the reader of the company members’ processes of finding constant

x
 Foreword xi

enrichment in the human work of ageing. In this sense, Odin’s

flourishing is similar to the central image of Zeami’s reflections on
acting – ‘the flower’. In her recent essay, ‘“Flower” as Performing
Body in No Theatre’, Yuka Amano provides a close reading of the
multiple ways that the metaphor of ‘the flower’ was central to Zeami
(Amano, 2011). Chief among these is the flower as a metaphor of
‘physical transience’ (2011, p. 534). Reflecting on such transience,
Zeami notes how

A flower … is particularly appreciated for its rarity when its time

comes, since it among all the trees and grasses blooms in response
to the change of seasons. … The mind perceives as interesting
what it knows to be rare. … Is there any blossom, after all, that
does not scatter but lasts on and on? Precisely because it scat-
ters, a blossom is rare when in bloom. … Rarity comes from not
clinging to the same but moving on to other forms of expression.
(Hare, 2008, p. 64)

Based on observation, interviews and engagement with a diverse

range of members within the Odin ‘family’, Ledger’s account of Odin
and Barba’s work is measured in the best sense of the term – that is,
it provides a balanced account of each key aspect of the company’s
work since 2000 ‘in a new century’: the cluster of practices Odin
members engage as a ‘network of groups’; transformations of train-
ing over the years; the diverse modes of making performances as an
ensemble under Barba’s guidance, and/or as individuals pursuing
their own lines of performative expression within the laboratory
theatre framework; Odin as it interacts with and responds to its vari-
ous communities in Holstebro and beyond; and the modes of inter-
cultural encounter engaged by Barba in particular, and at times the
larger company – ISTA, Theatrum Mundi performances, and Eurasian
Theatre. When one considers Odin’s work as a whole, as Ledger does,
one cannot but be struck by the diversity and richness of its modes
of flourishing.
Ledger’s book will make an excellent up-to-date companion to two
important recent publications: Barba’s intimate reflection upon and
description of his working methods (On Directing and Dramaturgy,
2010) and Julia Varley’s personal account from her unique perspec-
tive as a woman as she discusses her work processes and experiences
xii Foreword

as an Odin company member for over 30 years (Notes From an Odin

Actress, 2011).
I began this brief Foreword with a quotation from social
anthropologist Tim Ingold’s most recent book, Being Alive (2011).
Ingold’s project has been nothing less than an attempt to remake
anthropology as a discipline: to shift the field and its methodolo-
gies towards ‘understanding of the lived world’ (2011, p. xi). Barba
and the work of the Odin have always inhabited the multiple, inter-
woven strands of this lived world in all its complexities. ‘To be … is
not to be in place but to be along paths. The path, and not the place,
is the primary condition of being, or rather of becoming’ (Ingold,
2011, p. 12).
Odin continues on its life-long paths.
Phillip B. Zarrilli

References
Amano, Yuka. 2011. ‘“Flower” as Performing Body in No Theatre’, Asian
Theatre Journal 28.25: 29–48.
Hare, Thomas, trans. 2008. Zeami: Performance Notes. New York: Columbia
University Press.
Ingold, Tim. 2011. Being Alive: Essays on Movement, Knowledge and Description.
London: Routledge.
Acknowledgements

Odin Teatret encourages connections between people. Thinking back

over the course of my research, I am struck by the number of individ-
uals I have met; they have all helped me and I owe many thanks.
I first made a particular connection with Roberta Carreri, who has
always been supportive of my endeavours to understand something
of the complexity of the Odin. I have got to know all of the actors,
who have always been remarkably patient with my questions and
generous with their time. During the final stages, Julia Varley and
Iben Nagel Rasmussen answered emails to clarify points and offer
insights. I am glad I could share a few conversations with Torgeir
Wethal and remember him with affection.
I owe Eugenio Barba particular thanks. He has been unfailing in
his support and generosity and, from the very beginning of my work,
has always welcomed me unquestioningly into the ‘burning house’.
He read the manuscript of this book and offered valuable comments
and corrections. Omissions or misunderstandings remain my own.
All of the administrative staff and technicians at Odin Teatret, who
are crucial to its success though are often neglected in publication,
have aided me. Anna Savage has looked after me and answered many
questions. Ulrik Skeel answered several questions by email. Luciana
Bazzo, Fausto Pro, Lena Højmark Kayasan, Sigrid Post and Pelle
Henningsen have helped me in Holstebro and answered questions.
Rina Skeel has shared images and answered queries. The director’s
assistants at the Odin, Pierangelo Pompa, Raúl Iaiza and Ana Woolf,
have always greeted me warmly.
Without the help of the dedicated staff and assistants at the Odin
Teatret Archives and Centre for Theatre Laboratory Studies, this book
would not have appeared. Francesca Romana Rietti helped me make
sense of the vast amount of material. I am glad to have met and
continue my acquaintance with Mirella Schino, who has helped me
with queries, as well as Nando Taviani. Valentina Tibaldi, who is in
charge of the vitally important website, has been hugely helpful and
I owe her particular thanks for the images that appear in this book.
Claudio Coloberti has sent me DVDs on several occasions.

xiii
xiv Acknowledgements

I have benefited from being amongst participants in Odin Teatret’s

activities, from many countries and cultures, especially the Odin
Week Festival and ‘The Collective Mind’ in 2010, and the 2008
Festuge and Ur-Hamlet production of that year. Jacques Arpin kindly
sent me many of his drawings.
The Faculty of Arts Research Support and Staff Development Funds
at the University of Hull have supported my research trips unfailingly
throughout the body of my work on this book. At the University of
Birmingham, funds from the College of Arts and Law Research and
Knowledge Transfer Fund and the School of English, Drama and
American and Canadian Studies have helped me finish the research.
Thanks to my colleagues in both Hull and Birmingham.
I am particularly grateful for translations of press materials by
Deborah Vlaeymans, Abigail Loxham and George Talbot. Anthony
Hozier and Anne Fliotsos have generously read and commented
on drafts of Chapters 1 and 5. Some sections of Chapters 4 and 5
appeared in the journals About Performance and Studies in Theatre
and Performance respectively and are reproduced here with permis-
sion. Several people have generously allowed me to quote from
unpublished material. Paula Kennedy and her assistant Ben Doyle
at Palgrave have been helpful and understanding throughout the
process of research and writing. I am especially grateful to be allowed
room for the many photos in the book. In the final stages, Linda
Auld and Caroline Richards have cast their keen eyes over the work.
Phillip B. Zarrilli has been a mentor and friend for some years, and
I am very grateful he has found the time in a busy professional and
domestic schedule to write a Foreword in which years of accumu-
lated wisdom resonate.
I have been given a room by the sea at two critical points in writ-
ing by my parents and parents-in-law. My family, Jill Dowse and
Jack Ledger-Dowse, have been patient with me during regular trips
to Denmark and elsewhere, and when seeing me too often at the
computer. I hope they will reap some reward.
Introduction

Odin Teatret was founded in Oslo, Norway, in 1964 by Eugenio

Barba and the first actors to join. The group moved to Holstebro,
Denmark, in 1966, when the local authority granted the use of farm
buildings on the outskirts of the town. Although the volume and
reach of Odin Teatret’s work have expanded hugely over the years,
the group still remains at its home base, employing about 25 people.
Odin Teatret’s building has expanded too, often built by the group’s
members. In 2004, a new, upstairs wing of the building was added,
which houses the Odin Teatret Archives (OTA) and the Centre for
Theatre Laboratory Studies (CTLS).
As it maintains an ethos of collective work with long-standing
members, which extends beyond the production of performances,
Odin Teatret (which I will sometimes refer to simply as ‘Odin’ or
‘the Odin’, as is used by the group) can be defined as a group or
laboratory theatre. It is one of the longest surviving: only The Living
Theatre, founded in 1947 in the USA, outdates it. The Odin’s peer is
the Théâtre du Soleil, based in Paris, also founded in 1964.
Since it is conceived as a laboratory theatre, the work undertaken
by Odin Teatret is diverse. The practical work encompasses a range
of performances, which vary in their complexity and cast size. The
group can tour for up to nine months per year through a combina-
tion of the ensemble and smaller cast performances. There is a set
of work demonstrations, usually undertaken solo, though some duo
presentations exist, as well as The Whispering Winds (2004), under-
taken as a group. Barters are also held, when groups come together
to exchange performative practices as a cultural exchange.

1
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
2 Odin Teatret

An important practical aspect is teaching and pedagogic activity,

often in the form of workshops, which can be of several days or
weeks in duration, either at home or abroad. Sometimes pedagogic
activity is organised in conjunction with the CTLS or the University
of Århus, Denmark (which is on the other side of the Jutland pen-
insula from Holstebro). The Odin Week Festival is held at least once
a year, when the entire repertoire is performed, alongside training
workshops, film showings, sessions with each actor called ‘the Odin
tradition’, daily meetings with Eugenio Barba and a barter.
Odin Teatret hosts companies1 and organises festivals, particularly
the Transit Festival, held every three years. Since 1989, the Festuge,
or ‘festive week’, has been held in Holstebro, when local groups
perform in a busy schedule of events; the Odin maintains many
connections with the wider area too. Alongside the practical activi-
ties, publication, film-making and photography also take place – and
have done so since long before current notions of ‘documentation’
became so prevalent. Press interviews are given on tour, and each is
catalogued in the archives with the relevant production.
Since 1980, an allied activity has been the International School
of Theatre Anthropology (ISTA), directed by Eugenio Barba, which
brings together practitioners of various forms and genres of theatre,
who also mount performances as Theatrum Mundi. A related activity
is the University of Eurasian Theatre.

Theatre in a new century: aims

Odin Teatret: Theatre in a New Century aims to bring information and

discussion of Odin Teatret up to date, focusing on work since 2000,
often drawing on later practical work, written material, translations
and interviews with actors. I consider Odin Teatret as a group, made
up of its director and actors, as well as other staff, all of whom con-
tribute to its development.
There is no book on Odin Teatret as a group in English. Ian
Watson’s book, Towards a Third Theatre: Eugenio Barba and the Odin
Teatret (Watson, 1995), has been the seminal study of Odin to
date.2 After an initial section, Watson resolutely discusses Barba.
Whilst Watson provides very useful sections on Barba’s theoretical
perspectives, productions beyond Kaosmos (1993–96) cannot be
discussed (a summary of Kaosmos appears in the Afterword of the
 Introduction 3

1995 paperback edition, the version I refer to throughout). One

of the key differences between my research and the era covered
by Watson is that training is no longer undertaken in the manner
discussed by him – plus, of course, the performance repertoire has
changed and other emphases in Odin’s practice have evolved. Jane
Turner’s Eugenio Barba (2004) tends to focus on an analysis of key
texts and includes a long response to the Theatrum Mundi perfor-
mance Ego Faust at the 2000 ISTA, rather than any of the Odin’s own
performances. The book also includes useful descriptions of work-
shops. What makes Erik Exe Christoffersen’s book The Actor’s Way
(Christoffersen, 1993) especially engaging is his use of the actors’
verbatim material. However, the book draws on discussions with
only four of the Odin actors, missing out, for example, Julia Varley,
who had been at Odin Teatret since 1976. Christoffersen’s material
actually dates from 1989, since the book is a translation of an earlier
Danish version (Christoffersen, 1989a).
Although Odin Teatret: Theatre in a New Century addresses key para-
digms, theoretical perspectives and some historical developments in
the group’s work, it will particularly emphasise the group’s diverse,
contemporary work in the twenty-first century and the continuing
evolution of its activities. Barba remains an authoritative and perva-
sive figure, but I note his reflections after nearly 50 years as director
of Odin Teatret and try to balance this material with other sources,
especially that of the actors. How long the group can continue for is
not simple to answer, but the thoughts of its members and the need
for legacy need also to be considered. This book also documents and
explores the entire, current performance repertoire through fore-
grounding the work of the last decade. Since performances comprise
ensemble, small group and solo productions, the book includes sec-
tions on, for example, Andersen’s Dream, Salt and Ester’s Book. As the
company continues to find new audiences, shifts in the company’s
performance aesthetic can be seen in some later productions.
In various chapters, I aim to highlight the activities of individual
actors, as well as their engagement in new developments in Odin
Teatret’s work, which include Festuge and other types of commu-
nity work, Odin Week Festivals (an initiative of the actor Roberta
Carreri) and new performance projects. The discussion also examines
how the actors’ training, often regarded as central to the group’s
work – what it is most famous for and the most fascinating – has
4 Odin Teatret

significantly changed according to the needs of actors, and in many

cases ceased.
The purpose and nature of multicultural performance projects,
including Ur-Hamlet (2006) and The Marriage of Medea (2008), which
include performers from outside of Odin Teatret since they are
Theatrum Mundi productions, will be assessed. Although a separate
section will deal with the Odin and Barba’s activities as part of the
International School of Theatre Anthropology (ISTA), these latter
performances demonstrate how Barba has evolved his partnerships
with international groups such as the Balinese Pura Desa Gambuh
ensemble.
I have had numerous informal discussions and email exchanges
with Barba and have tried to ask him questions in public fora.
However, I have, quite deliberately, not interviewed him formally,
since his views are prolifically expressed in his writings and I quote
from these throughout my own work. To balance the recourse to
what is, still, the force of Barba’s theory, I have conducted inter-
views with the actors Kai Bredholt, Tage Larsen, Roberta Carreri, Else
Marie Laukvik and Iben Nagel Rasmussen, parts of which are quoted
from verbatim. A muddle over translation arrangements meant that
I have not been able to interview Augusto Omolú, though I have
twice asked him questions in public discussion. I have corresponded
and spoken to Julia Varley often, but took the same approach as
with Barba, since I refer to her book, Stones of Water (2011a), and
draw on her work demonstration, The Dead Brother, in Chapter 1.
Both Donald Kitt and Mia Theil Have responded to my questions by
email. I have not been properly able to speak to Jan Ferslev or Frans
Winther, though have encountered their teaching and ideas through
the Odin Week Festival and Ferslev’s work demonstration, Quasi
Orpheus, made in 2010.
I have mainly had to work in English during my research, partly
because of my limited grasp of Italian and Spanish, but also because
I have tried to bear in mind the material that likely readers may be
led to and wish to read. Although I have been fortunate, and some-
times embarrassed, that the Odin’s language in international settings is
English (for its pedagogical work, discussions at meetings, and so on)
and thus language has not really been an issue in the research, there is
a body of writing that has inevitably been neglected. However, I have
had press reviews in Danish, Spanish and Italian translated for me.
 Introduction 5

I first properly encountered Odin Teatret in Seville, Spain, as part

of the 2004 ISTA. Although I have since engaged more fully with the
issues around Barba’s transcultural project, I was struck by the range
and integrity of the work demonstrated and Barba’s intelligence and
ability to speak. He did not use notes then, nor have I seen him do
so since. Barba tends to speak from experience and an accumulation
of knowledge gained by seeking out practical encounters with theatre
artists, situations of theatrical exchange of some kind, and of course
his experience with his own group’s training and performances.
In Seville, I saw Andersen’s Dream, and remember the sense of an
important event, highlighted by the slightly mysterious business of
being allocated a number in order that spectators could, I think, be
called in to be seated in particular places. Although I have seen the
performance since, I remember its sound and spectacle and the shape
of the specially constructed auditorium from that time. But I didn’t
understand the performance very well and I think that some specta-
tors were rather underwhelmed. I was unclear as to why the actors
didn’t take a curtain call. But whilst some have proven to be a better
experience than others, I have grown to appreciate what Barba calls
‘the experience of an experience’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 248, original empha-
sis) embedded in the performances. Some of these experiences have
been superb.
My geographical position has meant that it has been possible to
be a frequent visitor to the Odin Teatret headquarters (see Figure 0.1)
in Holstebro, Denmark since 2006. Some of these trips have been
specifically to consult material in the archives, including one short
trip to source illustrations for this book in the separate photographic
archive. During my first visit to the Odin, I also travelled to Århus to
see Salt and Ester’s Book for the first time. I saw performances again
during the 2009 ‘On the Periphery of Transit’, which took place just
before the Transit Festival itself, organised by Julia Varley. I took
part in the Odin Week Festival in August 2010, which had already
at that time been extended to nine days and retitled to add the term
‘Festival’ to its name.
I have also been to Holstebro twice specifically to follow rehearsals
for The Chronic Life, an opportunity which has only rarely, and more
recently, been accorded to those wishing to study the Odin’s work,
and returned for only 24 hours to see two of the first performances
in September 2011. I have been to Wroclaw, Poland, twice: to see
6 Odin Teatret

Figure 0.1 Odin Teatret, Holstebro, Denmark. Photo: Adam J. Ledger.

Ur-Hamlet in 2009 and to follow rehearsals for The Chronic Life for a
week at the Grotowski Institute in October 2010. I attended Festuge
in 2008, where I also saw The Marriage of Medea. I was able to organise
a short visit by Roberta Carreri to the University of Hull in 2007,
when she taught and presented her work demonstration, Traces in
the Snow. Sadly, the planned return trip in conjunction with Torgeir
Wethal and in collaboration with the University of Leeds in 2009
could not go ahead due to the onset of Wethal’s illness. Much earlier,
I went to Manchester in 2005 as part of Odin Teatret’s tour to the UK
organised by Organic Theatre, where I took part in workshops and
saw Inside the Skeleton of the Whale for the first time.

Then and now

Since historical aspects will emerge alongside my primary focus on

the Odin’s work in the new century, I do not have a separate sec-
tion in this book that summarises its variegated history. In English
at least, succinct and useful studies are given in the introduction to
Ian Watson’s exemplary book (Watson, 1995) and in the later work
 Introduction 7

by Turner (Turner, 2004), as well as a compact history by Maria

Shevtsova before her interview with Barba (Shevtsova and Innes,
2009). However, it is useful to consider some aspects of the group in
order to understand something of its position now.
In his leadership capacity, Barba had to work extremely hard dur-
ing the foundation and early phase of Odin’s existence. Having long
left his native Italy, Barba had returned to Norway because his visa
for Poland, where he had worked as an assistant to Jerzy Grotowski,
was revoked (Nagel Rasmussen, 2008, Part I, p. 14). Looking back,
Barba admits apparent contradictions in his motives for starting his
own theatre group. He writes: ‘I wanted to change society through
theatre. In reality I was driven by an explosive impatience, the desire
for pleasure and the wish for power, as well as an uncontrollable
and potentially self-destructive need to escape from my past’ (Barba,
2010a, p. xvi). Already, this exposes the ongoing intermingling of the
personal and the artistic in Odin Teatret’s work. But as well as setting
up and managing the group, and leading training, just keeping afloat
financially was a huge challenge for Barba.
Barba speaks of the beginnings of Odin Teatret in a letter to
Grotowski. He reports the introduction of intense work schedules
(initially evenings and then daytime activities), the autodidact
nature of the work and the nature of training. From the outset, Barba
clearly wished to lay the right foundations for a group that continues
today, and tells his friend and mentor:

all the problems that crop up during the course of the working day
are discussed by the group as a whole. … I try and get all problems
out into the open, in order to avoid grudges and the formation of
cliques. Absolute unity is required if we are to succeed. (Schino,
2009, p. 237)

Despite this group ethos of unity in the face of difficulty, Barba

maintained an iron discipline, believing that the actors would in
turn develop self-discipline (Barba, 1999a, pp. 27–33; Schino, 2009,
p. 237). This was not without personal cost, since, as Barba tells
Grotowski,

I no longer have a typewriter (I sold mine due to economic dif-

ficulties) … I am weighed down by debts. I have no photos of our
8 Odin Teatret

training, all our money goes on the rent … It is very expensive,

especially for us, who are jobless. … I am tired, as always, now that
the day’s work at the theatre is over. (Schino, 2009, p. 238)

Although Odin Teatret is now an established organisation, financial

security can never be taken for granted and the ethos of hard work,
in a culture where decisions can be made mutually, remains today.
Barba’s energy is remarkable; he is, as Shevtsova says, ‘a paragon
of discipline’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 11). Whilst authorita-
tive, Barba leads by example and, despite the tough circumstances
and ambition of the early days, is no mere autocrat. He is the Odin’s
spokesperson, regularly giving lectures and short workshops (often in
conjunction with Varley’s work demonstrations), or participating in
public discussions or interviews when the group is on tour. Barba has
received several international awards and a host of honorary doctor-
ates from universities throughout the world (his biography and CV
are on the Odin’s website).
But Barba is the first to admit that the longevity of Odin Teatret is
fragile, since ‘a theatre which always makes performances with the
same people and the same director for a lifetime is not normal. It
is not normal, but it is not a handicap either. We have fought and
continue to fight so as not to become our own prison’ (Barba, 2010a,
p. xiv). The actors have introduced new areas into Odin Teatret’s
work, which has enabled it to develop and avoid stasis. All of the
actors are creative, proactive theatre practitioners, both as perform-
ing artists in their own right, who sometimes work away from the
main ensemble and as influential teachers and workshop leaders. As
Nagel Rasmussen puts it, ‘I have to do something where I’m decid-
ing, where I create something myself, otherwise you get completely
squeezed by Eugenio, he’s so powerful. But it’s also important to
bring something back’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). Part of each year
is put aside for personal projects. The group, then, with its strong
leader who continues to keep possibilities alive, is at once the stabil-
ity but also the trap for the actor.
Whilst Barba’s working methods permeate the company and
are – not least due to his writing – influential in many spheres of
performance practice worldwide, it is a mistake to assume that the
company’s diverse work is, or should only be, an enactment of
Barba’s theoretical vision. One area of performance practice that
 Introduction 9

has significantly increased in recent years is work with and for the
community. This has particularly been led by Kai Bredholt. Much
earlier, it was Iben Nagel Rasmussen who introduced individualised
training. Recently, Nagel Rasmussen created Ester’s Book, based on
her mother’s life, with little input from Barba. Tage Larsen had his
own theatre group whilst on a long break from the Odin and contin-
ues to direct elsewhere; he has also typically taken a leading role in
the Festuge organisation. Else Marie Laukvik has also directed. Julia
Varley is especially strong as an organiser and champion of women
in the theatre, and writes and publishes a great deal. Until his death
in 2010, Torgeir Wethal led Odin Teatret Film and was responsible
for the film output of the group, many of which have become vital
documents of practice.
Although the actors tend to agree what ensemble performances
should be included in a major tour, or generate their own bookings
or agree to invitations where these do not involve the entire ensem-
ble, Barba is of course still involved in organisational aspects and
undertakes a huge amount of administrative work. He is consulted as
to certain matters of policy and procedure and must give permission
for certain things. But Barba’s managerial activity now usually relates
to artistic endeavours. Details of contracts and schedules, some of
which are extremely complex, are dealt with by a tour manager
and other administrative staff. There are sometimes weekly general
meetings, usually when everyone is in Holstebro (I attended such a
meeting in 2008 and counted over 20 people present). But, in a move
not without significance, Barba does not now attend these.
Recently, there has been a significant change in how Odin Teatret
is managed. Since it is impossible for everyone at the Odin to
handle all aspects of its work, a wider method of organisation now
exists. A representative from each division of the Odin (the actors,
the board and the administration) comprises what is known as the
‘filter’ in order to establish a better and more succinct flow of infor-
mation at Odin Teatret. The ‘filter’ was instigated by Barba in 2005
during the planning of Ur-Hamlet, when his and others’ travel and
projects made it increasingly impossible for each Odin member to
be present at meetings. What is really a small management commit-
tee aims to meet regularly to deal with issues raised by each area of
the Odin, especially concerning longer-term plans or key decisions,
which are considered and fed back to the relevant individuals. The
10 Odin Teatret

introduction of the ‘filter’ also implied that everyone could take a

degree of responsibility for the group, as well as instigate activities.
The ‘filter’ can take decisions concerning the daily running of the
theatre and Barba has never interfered with its input, findings or
action. It is this group which effectively manages Odin Teatret.3
Because everyone is involved in how activity develops, the Odin
continues to evolve in terms of its range of activities, its audience,
the purposes of its work and its performance aesthetic. Whilst the
work is very different in scale than the early days of Oslo and then
Holstebro, it is individual and collective desire that provides continu-
ity. Writing at the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century,
Barba reflects that ‘in the confrontation between the old Odin and
young Odin I can clearly perceive an indissoluble bond: the desire to
break the chains, the hunger for Disorder, the panic in front of the
sphinx – the new performance to prepare – the attraction to obstacles
and errors’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 21). This refusal to fall into stasis is
what, in part, Barba means by the term ‘revolt’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 13;
see also Andreasen and Kuhlmann, 2000, pp. 193–4).

Grotowski
Barba clearly based the inception of Odin Teatret directly on the
model he experienced during his own time as Grotowski’s assistant
from 1961 to 1964.4 In recent years there has been renewed interest
around Grotowski’s work and legacy in the UK, not least because
of activities such as the British Grotowski Project at the University
of Kent, which has also led to several publications (Allain, 2009;
Allain et al., 2009; Flaszen 2010). The Grotowski Institute’s proj-
ects and profile (in Wroclaw, Poland) has also increased. We forget,
however, that without Barba our understanding of Grotowski would
at best be incomplete. Barba’s entrepreneurial daring in promoting
Grotowski has been discussed elsewhere (Barba, 1999b, pp. 68–74),
though I might just add here that the archives in Holstebro are full of
Grotowski and Barba’s letters to each other, as well as other materials,
which are nevertheless beyond the scope of this book.
Historically, Barba and Odin Teatret needed to move away from
Grotowski and his influence, as well as his direct comment on the
Odin’s development and performances. After Ferai (1969–70), Barba
describes how ‘Odin Teatret began to find its own language, its own
direction. We were flying with our own wings’ (Nagel Rasmussen,
 Introduction 11

2008, Part II, p. 33). For me, this ‘language’ consists of an emphasis
on the craft of performance, centred on the technique and creativity
of the actor. The director’s work is thus one of the assembly of the
performance material and as a figure who is simultaneously respon-
sible for audience and actor.
The contemporary work of the Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium (see p. 35)
has been mapped diagrammatically, something worth looking at now
in order to get a sense of the organisation’s complexity (Figure 0.2).

Holstebro
When the Odin arrived in Holstebro in June 1966, it was essentially
a small, agricultural town in an area of Denmark very different from
the cultural centres of Copenhagen or Århus or the Odin’s former
home in Oslo. However, the town’s administration had adopted
a progressive policy of renewal through the arts. The Giacometti
statue bought at the time still stands in front of the old town hall.
New museums and a library were constructed. Peter Schaufuss, the
acclaimed (if controversial) choreographer established his ballet com-
pany in the town’s Musikteatret, which also hosts a range of interna-
tional productions.5 The theatre has been expanded to include the
new Black Box space. A composer of electronic music was invited
to be the ‘town composer’ in 2000. There is also a ballet school in
Holstebro, a division of the Bournonville school of the Royal Theatre
Copenhagen. In a town where there was once no high school, there
is now a university campus.
The area to the north of the town where the buildings given
to Odin Teatret are located was pretty deserted in the mid-1960s.
Nevertheless, to give over municipal property to an avant-garde
group from Norway was not greeted with universal acclaim locally.
On more than one occasion, there were complaints about Odin
Teatret’s presence, and the town’s mayor had to defend the council’s
decisions. Since its arrival, Odin Teatret has always worked hard to
foster good relations with the town and has often expressed its grati-
tude to the local people. Festuge is the clearest example of how an
interaction with the town and its inhabitants is realised.
Odin Teatret has always been very careful to present an absolutely
professional face to the town. Barba insisted on maintaining the
practice of working hours aligned with the town’s workers, so 7 a.m.
starts were inherited from the days in Oslo. Due to the expansion of
12

NTL

Transformances Erasmus Students

Barters

Stanislavskij ISTA
Foundation International
School of Theatre
Omar Khajjâm Anthropology
Events with poetry Research

Intercultural
House Laboratory of
Orchestra Theatre
Practices The
Magdalena
Project
Research
Odin Week CTLS
Festival Aarhus
University The
International Midsummer
Pedagogy Dream School
Workshops
Tours
Seminars
Symposia
Masterclasses
Odin Teatret Guest
Publishing Performances
House
University of
Theatrum Eurasian Theatre
Mundi
Multicultural

NTL
NTL

Performances

Odin Teatret
Performances
EU Projects Work Demonstrations
Icarus
Publishing
Enterprise

Cooperation Odin Teatret Odin Teatret

with Archives Film
Universities

Transit
Women’s Theatre Holstebro Festuge
Festival

Local Education
Performances
DTA - VIA
The Bridge of involving local
Winds people

Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium

Figure 0.2 Map of activities of the Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium, 2010. Image:

Odin Teatret.
 Introduction 13

the town, the area where Odin Teatret is located, Særkærparken, is

now surrounded by industrial buildings and housing development.
Late-night noise from the theatre has to be controlled.
Barba is especially sensitive to the neat presentation of the foyer,
since it is here that spectators from the town and the sometimes large
numbers of temporary and diverse inhabitants of the building inter-
sect. There are no cleaners at the theatre, and all staff and guests who
stay more than one night are expected to undertake a cleaning job.

Spectators
Since Barba’s theatre work is complex and open to different interpre-
tations, and rehearsed and altered over a great deal of time by Barba,
he also considers that spectators, rather than a collective ‘audience’,
will receive different meanings. Despite his authoritative craft, one
of the goals of directing is that each spectator ‘experiences the per-
formance as if it were made only for him or her ’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 246,
original emphasis).
In terms of issues of wider spectatorship, we should note that the
Odin has toured to the USA and has a presence in Australia, but its
relationship with the UK has not been an easy one. Although the
group has toured to the UK, and collaborated, for example, with the
Centre for Performance Research, Aberystwyth, Wales, it simply does
not enjoy the presence in the UK that it does elsewhere. Responding
to a performance of Kaosmos in Coventry during the Odin’s 1994
tour to the UK, the Guardian’s Michael Billington begins by drawing
attention to the supposed British resistance to ‘European’ theatre,
stating that ‘our insularity slowly crumbles’; thus he finds Kaosmos
‘affirmative, sexy, visually entrancing’, and notes that the Odin is ‘an
extraordinary troupe, combining individuality with ensemble preci-
sion’ (Billington, 1994). Billington’s positive response clearly centres
on the viscerality of the production, which, he finds, concerns direc-
torial vision allied to performers’ prowess.
Barba is, however, philosophical about reaching UK spectators.
Discussing the 2005 tour to the UK,6 Barba remarks that ‘although
we played in several towns, there was not a single notice or review in
the newspapers’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 22). Despite a situa-
tion rather opposite to Billington’s earlier enthusiasm in a national
paper, Barba retorts that ‘nevertheless, we played to full houses’,
explaining ‘I was always aware that a theatre cannot depend on the
14 Odin Teatret

press, the information about its activity must go in a subterranean

way because the spread of information from person to person does
exist’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 22, original emphasis). Another
way that the 2005 tour was set up by producers Organic Theatre
was by tapping into university networks. Although finding an audi-
ence was sometimes tough in the early years, as indeed now, UK
spectators clearly follow Odin Teatret’s work, even if they are quite
a select group. That is not to say that selling performances remains
anything but difficult around the world, but I am only too aware of
how warmly Odin Teatret is embraced when I travel outside the UK
context.

Productions and the actors

As a group, Odin Teatret comprises the actors, its director Eugenio

Barba, its administrative and technical staff, those based in the
archive, and external collaborators (Odin Teatret, 2011a).7 Although,
as I will go on to discuss in the coming chapters, Odin’s work
stretches all over the world and is varied in setting, style and pur-
pose, Ferdinando Taviani points out that one of the constants over
the years in an expanding group is that the number of actors remains
more or less the same (Schino, 2009, p. 189). As of 2011, Odin Teatret
includes ten actors, whom I list here along with the year they joined
the Odin and their nationality by birth:8

Kai Bredholt (1990, Danish)

Roberta Carreri (1974, Italian)
Jan Ferslev (1987, Danish)
Donald Kitt (2006, Canadian)
Tage Larsen (1971, Danish)
Else Marie Laukvik (1964, Norwegian)
Iben Nagel Rasmussen (1966, Danish)
Augusto Omolú (2002, Brazilian)
Julia Varley (1976, British)
Frans Winther (1987, Danish)

Kitt is also listed as a technician. Although he is principally a com-

poser and musician, Winther performs in various productions.
Larsen left the Odin for a year in 1974 and again from 1987 to 1997.
 Introduction 15

Sofia Monsalve and Elena Floris joined the cast of The Chronic Life
(Floris is also involved in Ester’s Book).
The age of the actors tends to be mentioned now by commentators;
this seemed to be a particular issue during rehearsals for Andersen’s
Dream (Wethal, 2004), a demanding process and a much more com-
plex production than the ensemble piece that immediately preceded
it, Great Cities Under the Moon. Performances of Andersen’s Dream were
stopped in 2011, in part to make way for The Chronic Life in the rep-
ertoire and to keep overall production demands realistic. Still, apart
from Kitt, even the youngest actor has been with Odin Teatret for
over 20 years (Omolú is not a full-time member, but brought in on
a contract basis). Several of the actors are now into their fifties and
some well into their sixties; this is not an issue in itself, but when
combined with ailing bodies, worn out by high-impact physical work
over many years, continuing can sometimes be difficult.
Else Marie Laukvik is now the only actor to have been with the
group since its beginnings in Oslo, which provides a remarkable sta-
tistical touchstone. Because of ill health, Laukvik stopped perform-
ing in ensemble productions after The Gospel According to Oxyrhincus
(1985–7). She contributes to administrative work and undertakes
her own smaller solo performances, her work demonstration My
Stage Children (2004), and teaching work. In his mid-seventies, Barba
remains a dynamic presence. Overall, the consistency and longevity
rooted in its actors provides a kind of nucleus to Odin Teatret and its
work, in which several strands of work happen internationally and
simultaneously. It also goes some way to explaining the reliance on
personal experience, memory and autobiography in the work, which
will surface at times in this book’s discussion.
Chapter 3 will discuss the Odin’s performances. I discuss every pro-
duction included in the repertoire during the research and writing of
this book, which began properly in 2008. This means that I do not
include Mythos (1998), which ceased performance in 2005, though
I would refer the reader to the video documentation available on
the Odin Teatret Archives website, as well as others’ responses (for
example Watson, 1999; Baumrin, 2000). Andersen’s Dream, which
ended in 2011, is included in my discussion as it has been part of my
viewing experience. It is also an example of a particularly complex
production technically, and one that began and ended within the
first decade of the twenty-first century.
16 Odin Teatret

I list the productions here in order to show the extent of the reper-
toire, but also to provide dates of their first performance for reference.
This list does not include the multicultural productions discussed in
Chapter 5. When I discuss a production in Chapter 3, I will men-
tion these dates again as a reminder, but elsewhere just the titles are
given:

The Chronic Life (2011)

Killing Time (2009)
Ester’s Book (2005)
Andersen’s Dream (2004)
The Great Cities Under the Moon (2003)
Salt (2002)
Castle of Holstebro II (1999)
Doña Musica’s Butterflies (1997)
Ode to Progress (1997)
Inside the Skeleton of the Whale (1996)
White as Jasmine (1993)
Itsi Bitsi (1991)
Judith (1987)

Books

Although Barba takes the opportunity to revise and reorder his writ-
ing as each version of one of his books appears (though each lan-
guage version of Burning the House appeared quite close together9),
his output is prolific. I tend to focus on the later publications in this
book, but some mapping of earlier writing is needed in order to trace
how it has evolved and because I refer to it on occasion later. The
actors’ writing also needs to be introduced.
From the early days, the Odin Teatret’s actors and Eugenio Barba
have written and published, valuing that form of knowledge and
transmission alongside the practical work. The sheer volume of
Barba’s publication can be rationalised a little by his tendency to
reuse material, as well as the vast amount of translation that takes
place, especially of The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology.10 Articles
have become books, and some books repeat older material, and
nearly everything has appeared in another language, if not several.
Nevertheless, Barba’s output is undeniably impressive. Through his
 Introduction 17

assiduous work, Lluís Masgrau11 has made sense of it all through an

extensive, comparative bibliography and an index of concepts as
they appear in Barba’s writings, which are linked to Barba’s page on
the Odin Teatret website (Odin Teatret, 2011b).
The extensive publication of Barba’s work in American and
British journals, especially New Theatre Quarterly, some of which are
reworked into the longer publications, mitigates against problems
in accessing material published in book form in other languages.
Some of Barba’s books are not available in English, however:
Viaggi Con Odin Teatret/Voyages With Odin Teatret, co-authored with
Odin’s long-term photographer, Tony D’Urso,12 is a single book
in English and Italian (Barba and D’Urso, 2000). Barba’s Italian
books La Conquista de la Diferencia (Barba, 2008b), Prediche dal
Giardino (Barba, 2010b13) and the Spanish A Mis Espectadores (Barba,
2004a14) and Arar el Cielo (Barba, 2002a) have not, to date, been
translated. Other books by Barba, including the German collec-
tions ‘Flamboyant’ No. 1 (a collection with Taviani about Kaosmos
and certain aspects of Odin Teatret; Barba and Taviani, 1995) and
‘Flamboyant’ No. 3 (about ISTA, with other authors; Barba et al.,
1996) and the Danish Modsætningernes Spil (Barba, 1980) are not
available in English. But inspection of Masgrau’s bibliographies
reveals that some of the content of these titles is older material
or has appeared in English. The anthological writings should be
viewed, then, as evolving collections, sometimes stretching back to
the earliest material.15
One of the first publications on the Odin to offer a coherent
examination of the group was The Floating Islands (Barba, 1979). The
book is really a collection of articles by Barba, but edited and con-
textualised by Ferdinando Taviani. It contains some early manifestos
of the Odin’s ethos and practice. Beyond the Floating Islands (Barba,
1986) repeats much of this material but adds further articles. Barba’s
much later publication, Theatre: Solitude, Craft, Revolt (Barba, 1999a),
edited and with a short introduction by Masgrau, is to a large extent
a repetition of the core material contained in the early two books,
though the very early text that begins the book, ‘A Rift Theatre’,
Barba’s manifesto of 1964, is published for the first time. As Theatre:
Solitude, Craft, Revolt continues, Masgrau orders and contextualises
the contents in order to demonstrate the development of Barba’s
thinking over more than 30 years.
18 Odin Teatret

Barba’s relationship with Grotowski is explored through selected

correspondence contained in the book, Land of Ashes and Diamonds:
My Apprenticeship in Poland (Barba, 1999b), which has been extensively
translated. Barba also edited the seminal Towards a Poor Theatre
(Grotowski, 2002), originally published by the Odin’s own publishing
wing, Odin Teatrets Forlag, as a special edition of Teatrets Teori og
Teknikk, its journal series.16 The Odin Archives also contain prolific
correspondence between Grotowski and Barba, much of it testament
to the care Barba took with Grotowski’s administrative and financial
needs when travelling to Holstebro or elsewhere. Correspondence
also exists concerning Barba’s efforts to get Towards a Poor Theatre
more widely published, including a letter from the British arm of
the publisher Routledge with the original offer to publish the book.
There are many letters to Barba from friends around the world from
the time of Grotowski’s death in 1999.
As Chapter 5 explores, Barba’s work on Theatre Anthropology has
led to particular controversy. Since its beginnings in the late 1970s,
ISTA has brought together international practitioners in order to
study the detail of the performer’s working methods across cultural
forms. The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology: The Secret Art of the
Performer was first published in 1991 and in a second edition in 2005
(Barba and Savarase, 2005). The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology
presents results from the early ISTAs in more or less alphabetical
sections, many of which are reprinted from earlier publication, espe-
cially Barba’s output. The Paper Canoe (Barba, 1995) further devel-
ops Barba’s theoretical reflections around Theatre Anthropology.
Throughout, he makes reference to various fields of performance
practice, especially Asian forms. Whilst no photographs are included
in The Paper Canoe, The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology is lavishly
illustrated, the second edition in colour. This edition also includes
pictorial material that includes later meetings up to the 2005 ISTA in
Seville, Spain (see Figure 0.3).
Whilst The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology offers a unique
resource, if, as Chapter 5 explores, within a troubled field, two other
books relate ISTA’s activities. The Tradition of ISTA (Skeel, 1994),
edited by a member of Odin Teatret, incorporates contributions from
‘inside’ the organisation, as it were. I have focused on the slightly
later The Performers’ Village: Times, Techniques and Theories at ISTA
(Hastrup, 1996), since it repeats some of the earlier material and
 Introduction 19

Figure 0.3 Eugenio Barba at the 13th ISTA, Seville, Spain, 2004. Photo: Fiora
Bemporad.

incorporates useful interviews with practitioners. Barba’s book On

Directing and Dramaturgy: Burning the House (Barba, 2010a) is mar-
keted, rather conclusively, as ‘unprecedented’ and ‘a major retrospec-
tive’.17 Because it appeared in English at the end of the first decade
of the twenty-first century, the book has informed my own writing
and I refer to it often.
On Directing and Dramaturgy is structured as two interweaved
strands: one is an account of Barba’s directing and dramaturgical
practice; the other is an autobiographical account, split into various
‘intermezzos’. Here, Barba’s personal mythology is revealed as he
describes those life experiences that continue to inform his work. He
does not hold back from anecdotes of ‘the many facets of the subtle
20 Odin Teatret

power of Eros’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 214). Most significantly, Barba tells

the story of his father’s death. Kai Bredholt lifted this account and
used it to create what became the first scene of The Chronic Life,
which Barba left virtually untouched.
Since he creates original work, On Directing and Dramaturgy reveals
how Barba’s directorial and dramaturgical practices, which I discuss
in Chapter 1, are closely combined. Although he takes the actor’s
‘propositions’ as raw material for a production, the content and
form of Barba’s works are created simultaneously. Barba’s directing is
defined as seeking the means to ‘provoke personal reactions in the
actors and orchestrate these in a performance which didn’t imitate
life, but possessed a life of its own’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 8). Dramaturgy
is, most simply, how to conceive of the ‘layered nature of the per-
formance’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 9, original emphasis). Barba describes
how he tries to achieve this result through a combination of a long
rehearsal period, instinct and the logic of his conceptual thinking.
Whilst the book demonstrates a systematic way of thinking, devel-
oped examples are not always present, despite its density. However,
Barba writes ‘I would like the reader to consider the pages on tech-
nique like the description of an antiquated craft from the Middle
Ages, and feel free to do what they want or can with them’ (Barba,
2010a, pp. xiii–xiv). The presentation of his mature practice is thus
not intended to be prescriptive.
In his book, the answer to Barba’s question, ‘Where do I come
from?’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 4) is the combination of his personal history
and the development of his theatre work, since ‘it is a knowledge
closely linked to my biography and that of my companions’ (Barba,
2010a, p. xv). Contributions from the actors are therefore included,
which are commented on by Barba. One of the ‘intermezzos’ is a
long account by a participant in the first ISTA at Bonn in 1980,
which demonstrates the demanding circumstances of the time. The
early 1980s was also period of individual work by the actors, result-
ing in a name change to the wider Odin Teatret organisation (see
Chapter 1) and Barba’s beginnings at ISTA. Revealing something of a
shift in his attitudes, Barba writes that the account of the 1980 ISTA
shows ‘the director I was 20 years ago’, whose words ‘are unrecogni-
sable to me today’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 149). Since he does not look back
uncritically on that period, we might assume that Barba feels he has
achieved some of the working conditions or states desired; he still,
 Introduction 21

though, devotes a long section of the book to attitudes of a different

time some 30 years later.
Several of the Odin actors also write, which provides an insight
into Odin Teatret’s work from the pragmatic viewpoint of the actor.18
Although the Holstebro archives contain extensive collections of
writings by Barba, as well as bibliographies, they also include the
actors’ writings. Julia Varley is especially prolific through her edi-
torship of The Open Page journal and articles for various other pub-
lications internationally. Varley also has her own bibliography in
the OTA, as does Carreri. Both Barba and Varley contribute to New
Theatre Quarterly (Barba is on the editorial board), a journal which
has also published articles on, for example, Barba’s Ur-Hamlet by
Erik Exe Christoffersen (2008), which I draw on in Chapter 5, and
his article on Carreri’s Judith, which became part of his later book
(Christoffersen, 1993), as well as Korish’s on the work demonstration,
Dialogue Between Two Actors (Korish, 2002).19 The Odin’s 2005 tour to
the UK is discussed in the journal, too (Mastrominico, 2006).
As well as my discussions and correspondence with the actors dur-
ing the writing of this book, I have benefited from seeing some of
their books in translation prior to publication. Varley sent me Stones
of Water: Notes from an Odin Actress (Varley, 2011a) in manuscript
form in English prior to its publication.20 The book has appeared in
Spanish, French, Portuguese and Italian. Varley’s book, which I draw
on in Chapter 1 especially, discusses her training and approach to
acting, and includes sections on her role in Andersen’s Dream and the
character Doña Musica, a character in Kaosmos. Varley has also writ-
ten Wind in the West: A Novel by a Theatre Character (Varley, 1997),
which is published by Odin Teatrets Forlag in English, Spanish and
Italian. It tells the story of the creation of Kaosmos from the point
of view of Doña Musica and relates her story prior to her emergence
in the performance. The character appears again in the solo perfor-
mance Doña Musica’s Butterflies, much of the text of which appears
in Stones of Water (which is extensively translated).
I have also read Iben Nagel Rasmussen’s book, The Blind Horse in an
unpublished English translation. The book has appeared in Danish
and Italian (see bibliography). The Blind Horse is a reflection and dia-
logue with Barba on the older productions and, usefully, the manu-
script contains the text of Itsi Bitsi as well as Ester’s Book, though it
is possible to read the latter in the programme. As it stems from her
22 Odin Teatret

work demonstration, Traces in the Snow, Roberta Carreri’s book, Tracce

[Traces] (Carreri, 2007), covers the development of her training and
the work on performances. I have seen the prepared English transla-
tion, though have also corresponded often with Carreri and refer
directly to the work demonstration itself.

Confrontation

Barba says that ‘it can sometimes make sense to confront a theory
with a biography’ (Barba, 1995, p. 8). To do so here offers a way to
orientate my own encounter with Odin Teatret and discuss some
of the emphases of this book. Since the Odin’s work does not stem
from, and in some ways rejects (though does not criticise) the
British–American tradition of theatre, it also does not sit comfortably
with contemporary British–American critical models. I am also mind-
ful of the reader here, and do not wish to look at the performances
in particular by adopting a potentially unprofitable and unfamiliar
critical lens. However, to place the Odin’s work in a broad critical ter-
ritory illuminates its interconnectedness with issues of acting, direct-
ing and performance, which, in turn, sheds light on how its practice
is conceived, something I develop in Chapter 1.
Simply speaking, I find in what Barba calls ‘a small tradition’
(Turner, 2004, pp. 11–12) something I can relate to tangibly. I moved
into the university and academic sector after training and working
as an actor, which has continued to influence my perceptions. My
British drama school training21 was particularly technical, especially
around voice and movement. Voice training was resolutely con-
nected to the delivery of text, though movement practice incor-
porated dance, the influence of Lecoq and yoga. Not unreasonably
given the context of the training, acting was understood as perfor-
mance in plays and related media in the mainstream performance
industry. Nevertheless, the need for the kind of craft instilled in me
in those early years still informs my daily work and teaching; it is an
emphasis suffusing the Odin’s work that attracts me greatly.
More recently, my interest in practice-based research and devised
performance, especially through a PhD in the area, has led me
to new areas. Retrospectively, I have questioned the uncritically
accepted context of the ‘business’ of acting and the lurking valorisa-
tion of commercial or institutionalised theatre. I am drawn to the
 Introduction 23

Odin Teatret’s work because it has offered me an experience both as

spectator and workshop participant in a rigorous ethos of practical
knowledge that stems from the Eastern European idea of the theatre
laboratory, related directly to Grotowski, and the group theatres of
the 1960s. Increasingly, I also find myself influenced by the practice
and theory of barter.

The psychophysical
At root, the Odin Teatret’s craft centres on how the actor uses energy
in order to be present in the time and space of the specific perfor-
mance situation. Most simply, for Barba, ‘energy is a how. Not a what’
(Barba, 1995, p. 50, original emphasis). In order that energy is mani-
fested through precision of body and imagination, Barba’s directing
and the concerns of the Odin’s actor training most obviously rest on
shaping the detail of the actor’s sequences of holistic action.
Much contemporary acting practice embraces the praxis of the
psychophysical, or, as Zarrilli puts it, ‘the “body” in the mind, the
“mind” in the body’ (Zarrilli, 2002, p. 15).22 The Odin Teatret’s
approach is no exception, as the early training films Vocal Training at
the Odin Teatret and Physical Training at the Odin Teatret (both 1972)
demonstrate. Despite the extreme physicality of the training, much
is structured improvisation, or studies, around certain principles,
in which form must give way to content. As Barba writes, exercises
‘are filled with the concentration necessary for the successful execu-
tion of each single phase. Once they have been mastered, either
they die or they are filled by the capacity for improvisation’ (Barba,
2002b, p. 10123). As Zarrilli suggests, the actor should seek to oper-
ate through a continuum that cannot be usefully subdivided into
the purely physical and psychological, and, in common with many
others, Barba included, posits that such a state – or, more precisely,
the constant movement towards such a state – is necessary for the
affective work of the actor.
The blurring of apparent divisions between ‘mind’ and ‘body’
is central to Stanislavski’s ‘system’,24 which Barba acknowledges
throughout his writings as a fundamental influence. At its core, the
‘system’ concerns conscious means to a subconscious process of cre-
ativity in the actor. Recently, Stanislavski’s later explorations of the
Method of Physical Action and Active Analysis have become more
well known (Benedetti, 1998; Carnicke, 1998; Merlin, 2001), though
24 Odin Teatret

are sometimes described as close to one another, or indeed the same

thing. My understanding is that the former concerns the construc-
tion of a ‘score’ of physical actions, whereas the latter emphasises
improvisation as the basis for a systematic, active investigation of
a play in rehearsal. For our purposes, the term and practice of the
‘score’ can be traced forward to Jerzy Grotowski’s own initial train-
ing25 and through to Barba’s elaboration of the practice as a central
means to create performance material at Odin Teatret.
Another related influence on Barba is his interest in the work
of Michael Chekhov. Chekhov celebrates the ability of the actor’s
bodymind to ignore supposed divisions between the sensorial nature
of the body and hypnogogic, dream-like responses. Barba was in
fact one of the first to analyse Chekhov’s work as a contemporary
method, devoting a large section of his The Paper Canoe to the
approach (Barba, 1995, pp. 72–80). Chekhov automatically locates
impulse and imaginative response in the body, not a controlling
mind, stressing ‘how quickly the human body, especially the actor’s
body, can consume – and respond to – all kinds of purely psycho-
logical values’ (Chekhov, 2002, pp. 3–4). This statement could be a
description of significant areas of the Odin Teatret’s own training.
Whether technical or improvisatory, the Odin Teatret’s training
provides a ‘cultivation’ of what Jacques Lecoq (with whom Barba
has had some contact) calls le dépôt (Murray, 2003, pp. 54–5).
Although unsatisfactory in English translation, the term implies
‘circuits’ (Lecoq et al., 2001, pp. 45, 71) that form through ‘deposits’
(Murray, 2003, p. 54), as if the repetitive movement of the ‘river’ of
the training or the exercise builds up layers of ‘silt’. Optimally, this
‘sedimentation’ in the body remains with the performer as they work
on the performance; this is what, in part, Barba means by the ‘pre-
expressive’ (Barba, 1995, p. 9; Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 14).

Devising
Barba would not use the term, but I will on occasion refer to the Odin
Teatret’s work as ‘devised’ (as does Shevtsova; 2009, p. 34). By this I mean
that, in common with much contemporary performance, productions
are created collectively through a fusion of actors’ improvisations,
text, music and decisions about dramaturgical structuring. In its alli-
ance to physical practices, especially through the influence of Lecoq
in the UK and affinities with the postmodern, contemporary devised
 Introduction 25

performance can allude to a kind of aesthetic (Heddon and Milling,

2005, p. 218). In terms of Odin Teatret, on the other hand, the roots
of what can be viewed as its devised work connect to the ideas of the
laboratory theatre, most particularly as exemplified by Grotowski.26
Whilst this means that the Odin Teatret’s work is dissimilar to contem-
porary Anglo-American postmodern performance, its desire to define
itself as a ‘group’ can be located in an historical movement stemming
from the avant-garde practices of the 1960s.
Most recently, Heddon and Milling (2005) and Govan et al. (2007)
have provided useful perspectives on the historical development and
contemporary features of devising practices. Mermikides and Smart
have begun to exemplify devising through discussion of certain
UK companies’ rehearsal processes (Mermikides and Smart, 2010).
Dymphna Callery’s title, Through the Body (2001) suggests how the chal-
lenge of devising is so often thrown back on the actor’s physicality.
Although I have offered a summary of devised theatre elsewhere
(Ledger, 2009), it is most useful here to root the Odin’s practice in the
collective spirit of the 1960s, which saw many performance groups
emerge, including The Living Theatre (who travelled to Holstebro in
1975) and The Performance Group, directed by Richard Schechner,
which would later evolve into The Wooster Group, directed by
Elizabeth LeCompte. Although emergent in the political and avant-
garde theatre of the 1960s and onwards, the term ‘devising’ became
more frequent in the UK through the growth of theatre in education
companies through the 1970s. The term is not so familiar in the USA,
where the term ‘creative collaboration’ tends to be used.
In Schneider and Cody’s Re: direction, Theodore Shank also stresses
the collaborative methods of the ‘alternative’ theatre groups of the
1960s and 1970s (Shank, 2002), some of whom extended their collec-
tive principles to communal lifestyle choices.27 Devised or collaborative
work can challenge what Shank calls ‘the two-process method of the
traditional theatre – a playwright writing a script in isolation and other
artists staging it’ (Shank, 2002, p. 221). As Barba himself puts it,

that which concerns the text (the weave) of the performance can be
defined as … the ‘work of the actions’ in the performance. … The
idea that there exists a dramaturgy which is identifiable only in an
autonomous, written text and which is the matrix of the performance
is a consequence of those occasions in history when the memory of
26 Odin Teatret

a theatre has been passed on by means of the words spoken by the

characters in its performances. Such a distinction would not even be
conceivable if it were the performances in their entirety that were
being examined. (Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 66)

For both Heddon and Milling and Govan et al., the growth of devis-
ing is, in part, similarly rooted in proactive resistance to seemingly
unquestioned hierarchies, most particularly those centred on the
director and author, but also gives rise to new manners and modes
of working. As Chapter 2 explores, training at the Odin now stresses
invention, the devising of materials, and personal and professional
renewal, since, for most actors, it can only take place in the context
of developing a performance.
Whilst the rejection of the play script as the foundation of a
rehearsal process and performance may point to devising, Zarrilli has
identified a shift from ‘the actor-as-interpreter of a theatrical text’, to
‘a paradigm of the actor-as-creator’ (Zarrilli, 2002, p. 15). Linking two
ideas together, Dymphna Callery also asserts,

the more general proliferation of devised work in the post-sixties has

as much to do with the post-modern repudiation of the hierarchy
of the text as the emergence of a new breed of actors or practitio-
ners challenging the idea of the actor-as-interpreter and reclaiming
the notion of the actor-as-creator. (Callery, 2001, p. 160)

Thus the training of the actor as an individual who can create on

his/her own terms has characterised Odin Teatret’s training, which
may also stress improvisation, multi-skilled abilities and ensemble
practices. Devised theatre has thus ‘expanded the language of perfor-
mance’ (Govan et al., 2007, p. 12).
Barba’s productions are built to a very great extent out of actors’
improvisations, which eschew psychological development and
instead are constructed through a juxtaposition, alignment and
fusing of actions, created through a variety of means. Anne Bogart,
whose philosophy on directing is set out in her A Director Prepares
(Bogart, 2001), speaks of the need to be open to the creative space;
the work requires the actor’s own response to the imaginative
territory of material. For Bogart, a key role of the director is simply
‘to create the circumstances in which something might happen’
 Introduction 27

(Bogart, 2001, p. 124). On the other hand, Bogart assembles the

various strands of material, as does Barba, and both consider chance
relationships between elements important.
Odin Teatret differs from the suggestion of collaborative ways of
working above in that the group has a director who has the last word
in the creation of the production. In his reliance on the actors’ mate-
rials, or ‘propositions’, Barba shares some characteristics with others
who direct devised material, but is also the production’s dramaturg,
in the sense of creating its fabric, and has a strongly developed visual
sense. For Alison Hodge, ‘whether this new, potentially dictatorial
auteur has ultimately facilitated or disempowered the actor is a com-
plex issue’ (Hodge, 1999, p. 2). Although their book doesn’t mention
him, Barba is perhaps what Delgado and Rebellato intriguingly call
‘a collaborative auteur’ (Delgado and Rebellato, 2010, p. 209).
The types of dramaturgies to have emerged through the twentieth
century have been mapped through to the contemporary work of
the new millennium by Cathy Turner and Synne Behrndt, in their
book Dramaturgy and Performance, in which Barba is also referred to
(Turner and Behrndt, 2008). Turner and Behrndt suggest the influ-
ence of Piscator and Brecht’s montage on the political theatre of the
1960s (Turner and Behrndt, 2008, pp. 59, 68) but also onwards into
postmodern concerns, writing that

[Brecht’s] work has reverberations in postmodern performance,

where montage, loose-knit sequences, narrative devices, theatri-
cal transparency (indeed, self-reflexivity) and various kinds of
verfremdungseffekts [sic] are just some of the traces of Brechtian
dramaturgy. (Turner and Behrndt, 2008, p. 68)

In his linking and overlapping of actors’ materials, Barba’s dra-

maturgy is clearly one of montage, though the production Great
Cities Under the Moon, which is presentational in style and is itself
based on the earlier Brecht’s Ashes II, exhibits the self-regard of the
Verfremdungseffekt through its cool, concert-like form.28
The Odin’s work is also self-reflexive in its reuse of older scores
in new performances (most obviously with Inside the Skeleton of the
Whale, which is based on Kaosmos) and the use of the same characters
in several productions (for example, Iben Nagel Rasmussen’s ‘Trickster’
figure, first seen in Talabot and now in several others, including Great
28 Odin Teatret

Cities Under the Moon, Ode to Progress, Itsi Bitsi, The Whispering Winds
and street performances). More personal self-reflexivity occurs in
Barba’s pervasive reference to his own biography in his writings and
most recently in the development of The Chronic Life.
There is a particular turn to nostalgia and autobiography in Salt
and Ester’s Book. In her discussion of autobiographical contempo-
rary performance, Heddon suggests that nostalgia is often linked
to memory of place but ‘is a means of engendering a coherent and
continuous identity as we remind ourselves in the present of who we
were in the past’ (Heddon, 2008, p. 95). Whilst Salt is an adaptation
of a fictional work and turns on the poetics of love and loss, this
simultaneity between past and present pervades Ester’s Book, which
is about Nagel Rasmussen’s mother and features verbatim mate-
rial as well as home movies. The play of past and present is further
complicated in Itsi Bitsi, which uses episodes of Nagel Rasmussen’s
life story as a framework for a retrospective representation of previ-
ous theatrical figures, or a professional ‘nostalgia’, as ‘lenses’ for her
personal testimony.
Referring to Jean-Pierre Sarrazac’s notion of the ‘rhapsodic’ in
theatre (Sarrazac, 1998), Synne and Behrndt suggest that post-1960s
theatre is

‘rhapsodic’ … hybrid, shifting between the dramatic, the epic and

the lyric, the high and the low, tragic and comic, theatrical and
extra-theatrical in a ‘dynamic montage’, which is, Sarrazac sug-
gests, an appropriate response to the fragmentation of the modern
world. (Turner and Behrndt, 2008, p. 190)

This is a fitting description for practically the entire performance

repertoire of the Odin. Performances avoid fixed meaning, inter-
weave text and music with the organic force of the actor in a fluid
and shifting montage, are aware of their audience and, in the case
of The Chronic Life in particular, poetically connected to the state of
the world.

The postdramatic
In his influential book Postdramatic Theatre (Lehmann, 2006), Hans-
Thies Lehmann discusses theatre ‘beyond’ or ‘after’ drama and
proffers the aesthetics of the ‘new theatre’ (Lehmann, 2006, p. 18),
 Introduction 29

where performance is not ‘subordinated to the primacy of the text’

(Lehmann, 2006, p. 21).
Lehmann suggests the limits of drama as the basis of performance,
discussing how it cannot escape its nature as a ‘classical ideal’
(Lehmann, 2006, p. 43). Whilst not sharing Lehmann’s overall agenda,
Govan et al. trace a similar argument concerning the destabilisation
of art and artfulness, where the ‘Enlightenment perspective that
great art is to be recognised and revered through aesthetic contem-
plation’ (Govan et al., 2007, p. 21) now shifts towards performance
that draws attention to the materiality of the everyday. Lehmann
too is interested in this ‘sensuous subject-matter’ (Lehmann, 2006,
p. 43, original emphasis) that, by contrast, characterises the post-
dramatic and its ‘materiality of communication’ (Lehmann, 2006,
p. 16). As will be seen, Odin Teatret’s productions are replete with the
sensuality of music, movement, aurality, song and speech, even the
deliberate movement of air and, in Inside the Skeleton of the Whale,
the tasting of bread and wine by the spectators.
Postdramatic theatre comprises a theatre of ‘events’ (Lehmann,
2006, p. 105), which include synaesthesia, visual dramaturgy, simul-
taneity, physicality, reality, space, media and the body (Lehmann,
2006, pp. 68–132). As I will discuss in Chapter 1, text is used in
the Odin’s productions, but is not the expression of a dramatic
character’s thinking, not a performance’s ‘master’ (Lehmann, 2006,
p. 17), but has a form, a craft, in and of itself; Lehmann’s idea that
the postdramatic may include ‘text as poetry’ (Lehmann, 2006, p. 59,
original emphasis) is thus useful here.
The postdramatic offers its audience ‘more shared than communi-
cated experience … more manifestation than signification (Lehmann,
2006, p. 85) and results in a plurality of meanings. As I have sug-
gested, this is central to Barba’s work, where he, as director, ‘experi-
ments with ways of breaking the obvious links between actions and
their meanings, between actions and reactions, between cause and
effect, between actor and spectator’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 246). But the
‘chaos and novelty’ (Lehmann, 2006, p. 179) that, for Lehmann,
makes the postdramatic ‘energetic’ (p. 38), must be ordered and
shaped if it is to become an act of theatre capable of sustaining and
repeating itself, thus reinforcing Barba’s authoritative dramaturgy.
Thus spectators are ‘confronted with something that secretly leaves
a trace’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 245).
30 Odin Teatret

Archives

Partly because it is a laboratory theatre, archival material has long

been accumulated by Odin Teatret because of its research activities,
press attention, the photographs of productions that have built
up, as well as film-making. Barba has also long catalogued his cor-
respondence; as the OTA website suggests, his contemporary corre-
spondence ‘is not yet accessible for obvious motives of privacy but
which, when available in the future, will make it possible to recon-
struct relationships, shared problems, topics, reflections and phases
of development concerning Odin Teatret and the milieu of which it
is a part and a catalyst’ (Odin Teatret Archives, 2011a). The particular
strategy points to future possibilities of understanding, centred on
Barba, which may not at present be clear. This is a circumstance that,
of course, extends to the entire archival material.
A more developed and organised collection was established in
2004 as part of the CTLS. Later, the OTA was conceived as a sepa-
rate strand of work to the CTLS, which was itself re-envisaged to
concentrate on organisational activities and practical projects. The
OTA in Holstebro comprises fonds that include material directly
connected to Odin Teatret, Barba’s writings, material on Grotowski,
ISTA, and Farfa (Iben Nagel Rasmussen’s own group for young
actors). The collections on the performances have been particularly
useful in my research: each production has separate files devoted
to it, which include the programme, the text of the performance,
reviews in each language they have appeared in, articles and techni-
cal information. There is a separate photographic archive and the
OTA staff continues to digitise the thousands of images taken before
the computer age.
It is important to look at the OTA website for direct contact with
certain material and the documentation of performances if they
cannot be seen live. The online resource does not attempt to rep-
licate the Holstebro archive, though catalogues and some samples
of what exists in Holstebro can be downloaded. Some are reflective
items, others artefacts; the amount of this material should increase
over time. An intriguing example of the latter is Barba’s first ‘cut
and paste’ assembly of the text for Itsi Bitsi (Odin Teatret Archives,
2011b). There is a section of videos and documents, including letters
from the earliest days of ISTA, available online.
 Introduction 31

The various videos on the website are particularly important. There

is a section on ‘Oral Sources’, especially interviews with the actors
and Barba about training, and a section of discussions with scholars
involved in ISTA. This capturing of testimony points to the develop-
ment of another OTA enterprise, the ‘Living Archive’, which gener-
ated, for example, the interview project on training, available via the
website, as well as other reflective themes and investigations. It is
under this heading that some of the very latest material can be seen
or will appear online: at the time of writing, the ‘Living Archive’ sec-
tion includes a film of the final performance of the 2011 Festuge.
The OTA website also separates out into a large section called ‘the
Odin Story’. This contains a great amount of historical material,
a resource that will augment understanding of Odin Teatret’s body
of work. Much of this content is downloadable, and repeats some
of the ‘Oral Sources’ material that pertains to the Odin specifically.
Most relevant to the discussion in this book are the sections on bar-
ter, the productions and work demonstrations, and the later material
on training, all of which include video samples. Videos of Augusto
Omolú, Else Marie Laukvik and Roberta Carreri teaching are avail-
able, as well as a video of Iben Nagel Rasmussen working with her
Bridge of Winds project, interspersed with conversation with Barba.
Going further than recent publications that incorporate a DVD-
ROM (for example, Staniewski, 2003; Zarrilli, 2008), I had long envis-
aged that this book would be accompanied by a dedicated website
with precise video sections, a trend now emerging in publication.
However, despite considerable efforts, funding was not forthcoming.
I have, though, been able to include much photographic material in
the book itself. Although I have no control over the precise content
of the OTA website, I urge the reader to get to know its content and
to read this book alongside it. To take the clearest example, whenever
a production is discussed in this book, the reader is encouraged to
take some time to watch the available video.
1
Burning the House: Paradigms
of Practice

Although Eugenio Barba maintains that ‘I cannot, nor do I wish to,

pass on a style, create a school or a method’ (Barba, 2010a, p. xv), par-
ticular approaches to performance practice define the Odin Teatret’s
work, both as a pragmatic methodology and how that practice is
understood.
As well as directing and dramaturgy, this chapter discusses acting
as a body of knowledge that, today, informs the amount of teaching
that takes place. I refer to how the actor articulates his/her work, as
well as to what is shown through some of their work demonstrations,
drawing especially on Julia Varley’s work. This offers an alternative
perspective to Barba’s writings, though I have primarily drawn on
his On Directing and Dramaturgy, which offers a more summative,
reflective and retrospective content than previous works. I also report
some of my observations during rehearsals for The Chronic Life: the
reality of rehearsal sometimes demonstrates departures from previ-
ous assumptions or apparent dogma, and provides a useful founda-
tion for my later discussion of the repertoire.
Barba remains director of Odin Teatret and is an authoritative,
charismatic leader, dealing with a range of day-to day-problems and
opportunities. He is demanding, but, in return, has always sought
to guarantee the actor’s wage. However, the Odin’s group nature has
been paramount from the outset. The actors do not have formal con-
tracts. Its dynamic is carefully defined as a coherent yet fluid arrange-
ment, where the ‘community ethos is not meant to infringe upon
self-regulated self-development, any more than Barba’s overview
of work-in-progress is meant to control that work’ (Shevtsova and

32
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 33

Innes, 2009, p. 10). This complex mixture of individuality within

mutuality, and the balancing of authority and personal exploration,
has enabled the longevity of a still evolving group.
Apart from production activity, the idea and practice of a theatre
laboratory is key to grasping the Odin Teatret’s inception and its
ongoing, complex range of interrelated activities. Although particular
aspects are elaborated throughout this book – for example, Chapter 2
challenges simple views and even the actual practice of training, so
often considered fundamental to the theatre laboratory – this chapter
assesses how fundamental aspects are played out by a group moving
into the sixth decade of its existence. There is also a growing aware-
ness of legacy.

Third Theatre and the laboratory

In his writings and speaking, Barba has continued to emphasise that

Odin Teatret is part of the ‘Third Theatre’ movement. ‘Third Theatre’
was more fully defined in The Floating Islands (Barba, 1979). Rarely
‘traditionally’ trained, these groups can be characterised as

… not amateurs. Their entire day is filled with theatrical experi-

ence, sometimes by what they call training, or by the preparation
of performances for which they must fight to find an audience. …
What appears as a common denominator among such different
groups and experiences, is a tension difficult to define. It is as if
the personal needs – ideals, fear, multiple impulses which would
otherwise remain more or less obscure – wanted to be transformed
in the work. (Barba, 1979, pp. 145–7)

The ethos of ‘Third Theatre’ can be understood as predicated on

activity but also a way of being in the world, the forging of relation-
ships and the cultivation of an affective presence in the conscious-
ness of its spectators (see, especially, Watson, 2002, Part III).
The publishing of journals and books has always been part of the
wider laboratory work; the periodical Teatrets Teori og Teknikk [Theatre
Theory and Technique] ran from 1965 to 1974 and The Open Page has
been published since 1996. Barba and Taviani’s The Floating Islands
was published in 1979; more recent publications concern, for exam-
ple, ISTA, The Bridge of Winds and the European laboratory theatre
34 Odin Teatret

tradition, as well as an involvement in the publication of books by

the actors.1 Film-making was the special focus of Torgeir Wethal, who
made many key films on the Odin’s activities and continued to do
so in the digital age. Film-making is continued by Claudio Coloberti
and Chiara Crupi.
The Odin mainly tours to spaces that are flexible, and venues are
often small. The group’s own lighting and sound equipment is usu-
ally used too. Performances are limited to relatively few numbers of
spectators, so that they and the actors are brought together in ‘prox-
imity and intimacy’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 47). Barters and other commu-
nity activities, many of which take place outside, have also grown
in recent years: social imperatives are prioritised in this work, rather
than a refined aesthetic, which exemplifies the ‘necessity’ that often
appears in the Odin Teatret’s vocabulary. So for the Odin, theatre is
an activity, an exchange, and not a particular form or genre.
Third Theatre is also a kind of movement or network of groups,
many of which have a connection to the Odin and, despite Barba’s
resistance to offering any kind of model, would claim affinity to
it. Regular Third Theatre Group Meeting meetings take place in
Ayacucho, Mexico. Odin Teatret is very influential in Italy and
something of an inspiration in Latin America, where it often tours,
and where groups sometimes undertake theatre in difficult political
and social conditions.2 Important networking and sharing activities
happen alongside Odin’s main work too: Varley organises the Transit
Festival, which regularly brings together women practitioners under
a themed title, and is one of the founders of the Magdalena Project,
an international network of women in theatre.3 In 2009 ‘On the
Periphery of Transit’ also took place, which offered the opportunity
for those interested in Odin’s activities to see and take part in work
prior to the subsequent programme. Although Taviani repeatedly
describes Odin Teatret as a kind of ‘enclave’ (e.g., Schino, 2009,
p. 161, passim), a reasonable description to indicate the Odin’s cohe-
sion as a small group of long-standing members, the openness and
extent of its work in the twenty-first century should not be under-
estimated.

The laboratory and the actor

In recent conversation, Barba has reflected that the Odin Teatret’s
ensemble nature means ‘common dreams can be developed’ (Odin
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 35

Teatret, 2008a). However, in her wide-ranging discussion, which

draws on historical precedent, contemporary practices and personal
anecdote, Mirella Schino ultimately resists a straightforward defini-
tion of the theatre laboratory (Schino, 2009). Schino identifies ‘the
laboratory dimension’ (Schino, 2009, p. 261) or ‘laboratoriality’
(Schino, 2009, p. 24), which suggests investigation outside of perfor-
mance, but not a fixed formula of how to do so; the laboratory is, as
many of the Odin actors would say, a ‘way of thinking’.
The link between the laboratory and the actor was emphasised on
the Odin Teatret’s move to Denmark, when it became the Nordisk
Teaterlaboratorium for Skuespillerkunst [the Nordic theatre laboratory
for the actor’s art]. This arrangement changed in 1984, creating an
independent organisation known as the Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium
(NTL), which could ‘house’ Odin Teatret, Farfa, Basho, The Canada
Project, ISTA, Odin Teatret’s publishing arm and Odin Teatret Film.4
This was partly to encompass the diverse activities generated by
the actors as well as Barba, and particularly to enable Iben Nagel
Rasmussen, who had wished to leave, to continue her Farfa activities
as part of a wider organisation. Basho and The Canada Project are
now no longer part of the NTL, and Nagel Rasmussen focuses on her
Bridge of Winds project. These activities demonstrate the realisation
of ‘laboratoriality’ and how an administrative set-up can shift to
encompass practicalities and needs.
Although Christoffersen highlights the early phase of the younger
group as a ‘closed room’ period (Christoffersen, 1993, pp. 19–27),
when the inward focus was allied to a rather austere ethos, the need
to transmit approaches and findings, and to form an investigative
and outward-looking process, has long been part of the Odin Teatret’s
remit. Earlier activities included exploratory seminars and workshops
given by several leading theatre practitioners, including Grotowski,
Fo and Chaikin, visiting performances and film showings. All of this,
and more, continues today: community work, teaching, writing,
organisation and administration, publishing and film-making, the
archival work, are each composite parts of the ‘laboratory’ definition.
Thus the Odin should not be considered a theatre company dedi-
cated to the production of performances, but as an organisation – or
rather an organic and organising enterprise – undertaking various
activities in the investigation, production, application and dissemi-
nation of theatrical knowledge.
36 Odin Teatret

The continued tradition of the theatre laboratory is a clear concern

for Odin Teatret in the twenty-first century. The CTLS was created in
conjunction with Århus University’s Department of Dramaturgy in
2002.5 The CTLS and OTA occupy a new wing of the Odin’s build-
ings, finished in 2004 just in time for its fortieth anniversary. Since
its inception, the CTLS has enshrined both the investigative ethos of
Odin Teatret as well as its future, stating on its web page that

in the future, it is obvious that Odin Teatret will not be able to con-
tinue the same activities, which depend on the present staff. The
Centre, therefore, exists as a potential for future artists and research-
ers, who, with specialised interests and artistic vigour will inject
new life into the theatre laboratory tradition through their personal
needs and the circumstances of their time. (Odin Teatret, 2011c)

Whilst the CTLS has shifted to a project-based research initiative, the

OTA is a significant resource for scholars and artists. It is considered
an active organisation, styling itself ‘a living archive’: there has been,
for example, an ongoing process of gathering oral testimonies.6 The
archive is not, then, solely a repository for paper records, but an
evolving and stimulating collection, which also incorporates new
technologies, especially its website.7 In conjunction with Århus
University, the CTLS organised a summer school for international
students, ‘The Midsummer Dream School’, which took place in
Århus and Holstebro 7–20 August 2011. Through its activities, both
the CTLS and OTA emphasise that Odin Teatret is its people, not an
organisation or building, and firmly introduces the hope of legacy,
paradoxically predicated on disappearance.

The actor
Although the laboratory is characterised by a set of wider concerns,
or even a mindset, Odin Teatret has always centralised the actor,
not least because of Barba’s apprenticeship with Grotowski and
that particular theatre’s emphasis on training and the ‘holy’ actor
(Grotowski, 2002). Barba had also encountered Kathakali in India
(Barba, 1967), the discipline of which informed the ethics of his
approach (Christoffersen, 1993, pp. 10–14).
It is notoriously hard to join Odin Teatret, which, officially, is now
closed to new actors. The challenging working conditions also mean
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 37

that it can be demanding to remain once part of the group.8 In the

new millennium, new members, such as Augusto Omolú, Donald
Kitt and Mia Theil Have have joined (and the latter departed).
Others are brought in for special projects, notably Elena Floris and
Sofia Monsalve for The Chronic Life. Floris and Monsalve are not full
members of the Odin, but have been ‘borrowed’ from The Bridge
of Winds, an independent group led by Iben Nagel Rasmussen. But
the reality of the distinction hardly bears out since both these new-
comers are actively and fully involved in the production, especially
Monsalve, who has received a kind of training via the rehearsal
process. As Varley reports, there is some historical precedence to the
blurring of boundaries between training and performance (Varley,
2011a, pp. 15–19), though it remains significant that ‘outside’ per-
formers should be brought in to a ‘closed’ group in order to facilitate
the needs of one production. Others can encounter its work through
its teaching and workshop-based work, both abroad and as ‘schools’
in Holstebro. This is both part of the ethos of the laboratory and, of
course, a financial necessity.

Training
Fundamentally rejecting the typical drama school training pro-
grammes as offered in the USA, the UK and elsewhere in Europe,
training does not concern, as Taviani emphasises (Taviani, 1979,
p. 47), a short-term, institutional, vocational preparation. Instead,
training is predicated on a teacher-–pupil relationship, reminiscent
of the guru–shishya tradition of classical Asian cultures.
When the group first began work in Oslo, training was initially
led by Barba, who was himself not hugely experienced, but the
group also worked autodidactically – a central tenet of the group
and indeed the praxis of the laboratory. The aim was that even scant
mutual resources should be pooled and investigated: Barba led the
actors verbally through exercises he had encountered at Grotowski’s
theatre, and even if actors had only a rudimentary grasp of areas
like mime or ballet, this was shared. Looking back over the passage
of several decades, Barba explains that training ‘did not grow from
a doctrine, but from my doubts and the questions they aroused’
(Barba, 2007, p. 1). As the group developed, these doubts formed into
principles that could be taught by the older actors to the incoming
generation, a pattern that has continued to today.
38 Odin Teatret

Varley maintains that, prior to 1973, training was ‘a completely

separate world from that of rehearsals and performance. There was
no direct connection between these different aspects of the work,
although the form of the exercises might colour an actress’s move-
ments when improvising or creating a composition’ (Varley, 2011a,
p. 44). From the mid-1970s, the technical aspects of training were
challenged further by developments such as the actors’ individualisa-
tion of their training according to areas or principles each wished to
explore, or the opening up and sharing of practice through barters.
Further complicating any supposed divisions, barters initially used
some of the training exercises as performance, evolving into The Book
of Dances (1974–80). Turner’s view that ‘there has always been a clear
distinction between the function of exercises in training and in the
work of the rehearsal’ (Turner, 2004, p. 25) is not quite so clear cut,
since the devising of materials as well as, for example, learning a new
instrument or other technical skill are placed on equal terms.
At root, training concerns how the actor can be present. Even the
most basic acrobatics teach that the actor must be concentrated in
the moment, or they will simply get hurt. In her work demonstration
Traces in the Snow, Roberta Carreri remembers that ‘the floor was my
first Zen master’ (also transcribed in Andreasen and Kuhlmann, 2000;
see also Carreri, 2007). Training is thus ‘a process of self-definition,
a process of self-discipline which manifests itself through physical
reactions’ (Barba, 1979, p. 73); this is fundamental and concerns an
understanding of acting that rejects illusion, since the actor works
in order that s/he is present on his/her own terms, and reacts rather
than acts.
Regular, daily training, something that has characterised Odin
Teatret historically and dominated accounts of its activities, does not
now happen. Most of the senior actors consider that their training
has stopped or is fundamentally complete, and continue it intermit-
tently when allied to a particular task or rehearsal. It is the more
recent generation of actors who have trained under an older col-
league. All of the actors teach in some capacity, which maintains a
relationship to training and the passing on of approaches. But train-
ing is in no way a fixed syllabus and has its roots in the investigative
thrust of the laboratory.
Training is still conceived as spanning several years, including the
basic work that is often acrobatic or object- or prop-based in nature,
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 39

improvisation, the development of personal interests and creative

explorations. Some Odin actors have often divided their training
into ‘seasons’ with no fixed time scale from each to the next (see
Chapter 2; also Turner, 2004, p. 25). But Iben Nagel Rasmussen says
that ‘I do not use this term’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010) (and in fact
asked me what I meant when I used it in a question about training),
emphasising that apparent terminology and methodology are not
doctrine. ‘Autodidactism’ should be understood, then, as individual
‘self-training’, how that training is understood and developed by a
particular individual, as well as how actors teach each other as part
of a group as a form of intra-autodidacticism.

The actor’s materials and the development of performance

Over time, the Odin Teatret actors have developed more input into
performance content and have created solo performances, or smaller
productions with a few colleagues. Nagel Rasmussen believes that
‘today we actors are much more independent and we know how
to compose, improvise and fix scenes’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 76). Nagel
Rasmussen suggests that basic material put together by actors, which
is then incorporated into Barba’s montage, may already be well
developed, displaying an awareness of theatrical form and effec-
tiveness. This is a contribution beyond the creativity and personal
impulse that is fundamental to training.
Although sequences or ‘scores’ of action developed by the actors
have always been the bedrock of Odin performances, since The Gospel
According to Oxyrhincus, Barba has asked the actors initially to create
material alone or, on occasion, in collaboration with each other, as
happened with Andersen’s Dream. Barba has referred to this process as
the creation of ‘marble’ (Barba, 2010a, pp. 70–1). ‘Marble’ is not the
result, but the first phase of a structured montage, which the actor
can work on him/herself. However, the metaphor challenges Nagel
Rasmussen’s view a little, since it implies that Barba is the ‘sculptor’
who ‘sculpts’ through cutting, adapting and interweaving the actors’
material to form the final performance.
Varley’s work demonstration, The Dead Brother (1994) (Figure 1.1)
offers a condensed exposition of how a performance can be created
as a collaboration between actor and director. Varley shows how ini-
tial ideas are developed and woven together to form a short perfor-
mance piece. The process is also discussed in her book, Notes from an
40 Odin Teatret

Odin Actress (Varley, 2011a). Initially, Varley defines that an ‘action’

is not a movement, since an action must ‘change something’ (The
Dead Brother). An action is therefore not illustrative, like mime, but
is ‘real’ in that it must provoke a reaction in the musculature of the
actor, especially in the torso: to reach for an apple, to hit someone,
to walk in a certain way, can have a physical reality. The action there-
fore is ‘alive’ as ‘scenic bios’, optimally affecting the spectator on an
empathetic, biological level (Barba, 2010a, p. 14, original emphasis).9
As Nagel Rasmussen so succinctly puts it, ‘actions are, they do not
pretend to be’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 55).
Actions are imaginatively imbued and a physical actuality of the
body, which can be sequenced, which leads to another fundamental

Figure 1.1 Julia Varley in The Dead Brother. Photo: Tony D’Urso.
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 41

term, sats, meaning impulse.10 Sats is a psychophysical impulse, but

also the physical potential to change direction; hence it is sometimes
referred to as a physical readiness – like an animal about spring,
perhaps. As Carreri writes, ‘to be in sats position allows me to react
and change direction at any moment. It allows me to be unpredict-
able (Carreri, 2007, p. 2111). It is the actors’ impulses that imbue the
moment-by-moment development of actions through the minutiae
of changes and their physical realisation.
A score can be composed one action at a time or developed from
improvisation. For example, in The Dead Brother a score is cre-
ated through an improvisation based on the first line of a poem.
This is combined with another score, a chair and a rose to form
a basic montage. Other procedures are introduced: Varley copied
the dynamic positions shown in paintings and adds the text of a
poem to the physical sequence developed from these images. In
another approach, Varley inflects the delivery of text through an
attempt to copy the melody of a piece of music. Once created by
whatever means, a score can be adapted by developing its rhythm,
quality and size, or by transposing it to a different part of the body,
expressing it vocally, or through manipulating an object. Elements
are grafted together, most obviously physical action and text, but
each has to shift to accommodate the other. Eventually, it is this
combining of scores that creates the performance, not the source
of the score.
‘Composition’ implies a quite technical building of one action
upon another, and is discussed as such today by Else Marie Laukvik
in relation to her current teaching (see Chapter 2).12 But further
terms such as ‘warm’ and ‘cold’ improvisation do not seem as preva-
lent now: the first is spontaneous and the second technically con-
structed. Barba explains that he prioritised the latter in the period
from the late 1970s, when Odin increased its outdoor performance
activity that required careful, conscious preparation or adaptation
(Barba, 2010a, p. 72). Varley’s later writing also shows that other ter-
minology has become a little fluid: ‘material’ is conflated with ‘score’
(Varley, 2011a, p. 56), and improvisation can mean the spontaneous
creation of material based on a theme or stimulus, or the invention
of changes to what has already been established.
Technical – or perhaps on occasion even arbitrary – selections,
though based on the common denominator of Barba’s instinct,
42 Odin Teatret

must however be learnt and absorbed by the body. Despite decades

of shared work, this has not become easier. Barba admits that ‘even
today, I could not openly say to actors with whom I have worked for
years and years: look, your materials don’t offer me any possibility
of elaboration and, therefore, of achieving an organic effect for the
spectator’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 66). There is a rare caution, even defer-
ence, towards the actor in this, which demonstrates that, despite
Barba’s theoretical stance, nothing can be taken for granted.
What sits alongside, under or inside the score is deemed the
‘subscore’. This is not like a Stanislavskian ‘subtext’, but can be a
set of images, a memory, personal associations, a certain quality of
breath, a particular use of the body, a certain rhythm, and so on: in
other words, everything other than the visible score itself, which
the subscore ‘[guides] by its dynamism even in immobility’ (Barba,
2002b, p. 100). The subscore is thus not emotional or psychological,
but part of the actor’s total performance fabric, even if the actor is
outwardly still. Emotion seems largely ignored and is instead under-
stood as something which arises naturally, in stark contrast to some
approaches to acting which prioritise feeling.
In the context of Odin’s later practice, however, the idea of a
‘subscore’ has been challenged. In her earlier writing, Varley cri-
tiqued any narrow definition of the subscore (Varley, 1995).13 In
contrast to the apparently ‘inner’ stimulus to earlier training mate-
rial, when actors often responded to Barba’s whispered provoca-
tions, as seen in the early films, Varley writes later that she is able
to work more immediately, since ‘with years and experience, my
body has learned to think by itself without the need to project an
imaginary film in order to create material’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 64). In
order to avoid straightforward, linear choices, Varley thinks with
a ‘cubist logic’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 63). She gives a plethora of rich
examples, such as,

starting from the theme ‘My wife lost her health’, the course of
my associations could lead me to make an improvisation over a
weak flame that I try to keep alight. The associations start from
imagining the wife looking at the black circles under her eyes in
the mirror, then move on to a valley darkened by clouds, to a
storm that fuses the lights and to a frightened child looking for a
candle and matches. (Varley, 2011a, p. 58)
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 43

The construction or improvisation of a score is not, then, an illus-

trative process, but concerns an exploration triggered by the initial
response. The element of surprise is therefore important. With expe-
rience, the actors can keep sometimes fantastical results simple and
clear, and rely on a later process of ‘elaboration’, where elements are
developed and fixed, perhaps through changes in direction, speed,
rhythm and dimension. Varley suggests that the more experienced
Odin actors in fact now rely on later elaboration, when action
sequences are developed and fixed, ‘to make their presence and their
actions interesting eventually’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 70). Elaboration
means also that the original life of an improvisation must be redis-
covered through the slow, repetitive work towards a performance.
A good definition of acting at Odin Teatret is that of making
actions freely; but the fact that the score can be outwardly changed
by the director, placed into a new relationship and within a differ-
ent dramaturgy, is an area of acting practice that is difficult to grasp.
Varley answers:

… often I am asked how I react to the fact of being manipulated

by the director who cuts, mixes and edits my improvisations
and materials … a trusted director who takes responsibility for
the result vis-à-vis the spectators gives great freedom. … I don’t
need to look at myself and judge myself from the outside. (Barba,
2010a, p. 77)14

Whilst Varley is happy to shift responsibility on to Barba for

outcomes, that she is ‘manipulated’ suggests a reduction in the
autonomy of the actor. But her argument rests on the outer, affec-
tive nature of her work. As Varley suggests, to consider what is per-
formed as a kind of poem, or comprising simultaneous layers rather
than linear logic, is helpful; Barba in fact puts it in similar terms to
Varley, thinking of the actor as ‘a cubist statue’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 48).
The core impulses of the sequence are maintained, though shifted
elsewhere, and the score is distorted into new patterns. Ultimately,
the total technical and imaginative process must concern com-
municating with the spectator through precision, since, as Varley
says, there must be ‘a tension towards excellence that sharpens the
sense and desire to say something’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 68, original
emphasis).
44 Odin Teatret

The compositional or directorial ability Nagel Rasmussen

identifies earlier led her to create Ester’s Book virtually alone. Nagel
Rasmussen built up the production through several versions (see
Chapter 3) and Barba commented on a few rehearsals only (one of
two musicians is involved in the various language versions of the
final performance). Earlier, what became Itsi Bitsi stemmed from
a long piece of writing by Nagel Rasmussen (Nagel Rasmussen,
2000). Not dissimilarly, Salt was created once Roberta Carreri and
Jan Ferslev had worked intermittently for some years on producing
material around the themes of memory and nostalgia. Later, Barba
worked to ally this material to a novel by Antonio Tabucchi.
However, as Carreri and Ferslev’s work demonstration about
Salt – Letter to the Wind (2006) – shows, Barba displayed a strong
directorial hand, developing the performance from its intended
simple form into a complex production. On the other hand, the
opening sequence of The Chronic Life, for example, remains pretty
much as first conceived by Kai Bredholt. An Odin Teatret rehearsal
is, then, a combination or tension between the density of the
action-based material created by actors and Barba’s instinctual
but authoritative selection and development of the complete
performance fabric.

The director and directing

Barba’s directing is defined by a blend of precision, technical know-

how, gut instinct and, most importantly, response to what he sees
in front of him. Despite an emphasis on actors’ self-created material
and an often difficult, evolving process of performance making with
everyone in the room together, critic Jørgen Anton writes in the
programme of Andersen’s Dream that ‘in the end they all give way to
Barba’s decisions – a fundamental rule’ (Anton, 2004, p. 39). The ‘last
word’ is Barba’s.
Barba places himself in a (metaphorical) lineage from Stanislavski,
Meyerhold, Brecht and Grotowski, each of which has influenced
Barba and exemplifies and challenges fixed definitions of what
directing, and thus Barba’s own practice, might be (Barba, 2003).
Whilst not wishing others to follow his approach, clearly Barba does
define and elaborate certain approaches in his writing, especially in
On Directing and Dramaturgy.
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 45

Barba defines his role as director after the turn of the millennium
as one of renewing the energy of the group. He explains:

my role as director is to remain ‘alive’ and make my group react to

the manifestations of this ‘life’. This life consists in being unpre-
dictable, astonishing, challenging, heading towards a bizarre or
even dull aim, changing the demands, assigning new and unprec-
edented tasks. All this provokes reactions in my actors, and their
sparks nourish our common working dynamics. (Shevtsova and
Innes, 2009, p. 13)

This is a directorial provocation, force, fulcrum or presence. In

rehearsal itself, some of these ‘sparks’ must be found, paradoxi-
cally, through constraints. A directorial method is sometimes ‘to
start from a situation opposite to that which I wanted to tell, to
radically limit the space, to miniaturise around a table a scene acted
out in a wider area, to let the actor’s footsteps and gaits tell what
her arms or hands had told’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 12). Although Barba
says that such delimitation has opened up new perspectives, there
is no obvious link between the tactic and the desired result. As in
this example, Barba directs procedures, not outcomes, which aids
progress when, as Varley puts it, ‘Eugenio doesn’t know what to do’
(The Dead Brother).
In contrast to the rehearsal of a script through a compact, ‘tra-
ditional’ rehearsal period, the development of an Odin Teatret
performance proceeds over a long time towards an always-emergent
definition of an outcome. Parts of the growing performance can be
left comparatively loose or unworked. Everything has the potential
to remain provisional. Even the narrative frame might come last: like
the full-scale performances, the story of the ‘dead brother’ in Varley’s
work demonstration emerges from an eclectic mix of stimuli and pro-
cedures. Similarly, it was only in the Wroclaw phase of rehearsals for
The Chronic Life (October 2010), a few years after rehearsals began,
that Barba began to articulate that ‘the action of the performance
takes places simultaneously in different countries of Europe in 2031,
after the third civil war’ (Odin Teatret, 2011h).
For Barba, the director is ‘the first spectator’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 10),
which reinforces his prime methodology of response. Barba’s double role
is to see the action continually as if for the first time, but instinctively
46 Odin Teatret

to ‘write’ with actions, space, time and objects in preparation for future
spectators. He does prepare, though, by amassing a collection of texts
and images pertaining to the key themes of the performance. These are
predominantly for his stimulus, but, as I have also seen, he does pull
out extracts in rehearsal to include in the performance. His working
file for Andersen’s Dream, which I consulted at the OTA, also has sec-
tions labelled with the name of each actor, within which are texts and
notes, including, for example, ‘Roberta’s scene, revised 20 March 2003’.
Working scripts are produced in rehearsal and the archive holds final
scripts of performances in various languages. A script is therefore not
the bedrock of rehearsal; rather, the spoken text is arrived at through
a sometimes arduous process. What the ‘first spectator’ should see is
manifested in real time through slowly choosing, linking and consider-
ing parts of scores and drawing in other ingredients.
In The Dead Brother, Varley shows how early material was offered as a
proposition, after which Barba rearranged parts or changed, expanded,
and cut others. The action is also reframed when Barba suggests a
particular costume (the man’s suit) that Varley wears. Within Barba’s
own book, Torgeir Wethal gives a similar account of three defined
phases in the evolution of a performance. In the first, it is as if Barba
has a ‘dynamic and musical need (Barba, 2010a, p. 61); next, poten-
tial meanings or resonances are clarified; in the final phase, precise

Figure 1.2 Barba directing ISTA participants, 2005. Photo: Francesco Galli.
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 47

situations or text are determined. Given that Odin Teatret’s first

text-based performances were not created in this way (see below),
it appears Barba’s interest and skill in this manner of working has
clearly developed over the years. Results in performance, found
through a long rehearsal period, are dense and highly crafted.
Despite the investment of time in rehearsal, Barba understands
directorial response and choice as founded on biological condition.
Barba’s close attention to actors, rooted in the Odin’s autodidactic
beginnings as well as his experience with Grotowski, is evident in the
‘animal director’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 78), where

a particular way of moving, lifting the head, looking, staying

still, keeping silent or whispering gave the impression of coming
from a remote inner space, a familiar yet mysterious common
universe. … The actor’s organic actions struck the reptilian part
of my brain … But I modified their actions also to make my
cortex react … Half human and half animal: my actors were cen-
taurs. … Their materials pointed in unexpected directions, they
cast to the winds my propensities and convictions. Thanks to
them, I also became a centaur. (Barba, 2010a, p. 82)

This typically expansive, mythical metaphor unashamedly celebrates

the feral energy of the creative process, but it remains one the direc-
tor can shape, albeit with an assumed trust in a personal response to
unexpected imaginative territories.

Text

Watson outlines how the development of the Odin Teatret’s work

shifted from drawing inspiration from extant text to creation through
an improvised and devised basis, which persists today. The first three
Odin Teatret productions adapted text: the play Ornitofilene (1965–6)
was given to the then new company by Jens Bjørneboe. The signifi-
cance of Bjørneboe’s relationship with Barba is chronicled through
their correspondence in the book Kaere Jens, Kaere Eugenio (Kramme,
2004). Ferai (1969) and Kaspariana (1967) were also inspired by lit-
erary sources (Watson, 1995, p. 74). Each of these source texts was,
however, radically altered through the inclusion of new roles, scenes,
restructuring and the drawing out or addition of thematic elements.
48 Odin Teatret

Although text is used extensively in performance, Barba is clearly

not a director who interprets a pre-existing script and, whilst he
has nothing against a theatre that ‘consider[s] the literary work as
the principal value of the performance’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 123), has
differentiated between ‘working for the text and working with the
text’ (Barba 2010a, p. 123, original emphasis). In the latter, text can
be ‘material ready to change, plunged into a process of choices and
visions which are foreign to it’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 123, original empha-
sis). Text is treated as a mutable entity, where meaning is found
through a new context, rather than the verbalisation of predefined
meaning. The actor and his/her speaking or singing of words are
placed on an equal status, since

this process is similar to breaking down, decontextualising and

recomposing the materials of the actors’ dramaturgy, or to a film
director’s editing when she intertwines two separate sequences of
images and makes them interact. This is sheer theatre directing
technique and implies a way of detecting and weaving together –
through actions – paths of thought. (Barba, 2010a, p. 123)

Here, directing and dramaturgy are fundamentally and absolutely

combined, a process in which Barba trusts his own associations dur-
ing the ‘improvisation as director’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 53).
Once, the actors’ improvisations were based on ideas or instruc-
tions given by Barba in the rehearsal room. The actors responded
individually, though collectively, in the room, which mirrors the
‘fish pool’ ( fiskedam) mode of some periods of the Odin Teatret’s
training (Chapter 2). However, reinforcing Varley’s own comments
(Varley, 2011a, p. 62), Watson notes that the relatively few times
group improvisation has been used have proven uncertain (Watson,
1995, p. 78).
Barba’s response both to the maturity of the actors and the fact
that several of them had started to direct, led to the decision to
focus on the actors’ own pre-rehearsal preparation of material.15 This
began with The Gospel According to Oxyrhincus and, much later, has
been most clear in the case of Andersen’s Dream. In most (at least
Western) approaches to acting, a response to other actors is con-
sidered fundamental. At Odin Teatret, an autonomous response is
prioritised, since it is assumed to make robust, personalised action,
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 49

which can better preserve the integrity of the source theme before
becoming linked to others (see also Watson, 1995, p. 78). It is only
later that collective, moment-by-moment response and impulse
between actors can subsequently occur. It is from these encounters
that performance sequences grow. Thus meaning is not allied to the
original source of the material; it is generated only once it is con-
nected to other action.
Barba continues to make explicit links between his art and personality.
He declares ‘my wounds, the burning winds, my superstitions were all part
of my method’ (Barba, 2010a, p. xx, original emphasis). By ‘wounds’,
Barba means those key impressions that have affected him during his
lifetime, implying of course that some kind of ‘healing’ needs to hap-
pen. ‘Superstition’ is a more recent term (Barba, 2010a, p. 2), which
points to evocations and suggestiveness in the practical work, and the
personal shadows that lurk beyond a performance. Despite the frequent
recourse to his own biography and the fact that he is stalked by his
past – or wishes to remain haunted by it – to see Barba as an artist in
his own right, creating work from his own psyche and neurological
response, is a way to appreciate his stance as a director. And in Barba’s
theatre, the authority of text is replaced by his own authority.

Dramaturgy

Dramaturgy is not a literary or research-based activity, as is a com-

mon understanding of dramaturgy in the German, American or
growing British tradition, but particularly concerns the structure and
meaning of a performance.16
A tripartite, conceptual or structural logic informs dramaturgical
reasoning: Barba understands dramaturgy as ‘organic’, ‘narrative’
and ‘evocative’ (Barba, 2010a).17 But he is happy to highlight the
tension between dramaturgical method and the reality of circum-
stances, admitting that ‘the capacity to distinguish these levels has
not helped me to solve the problem of how to develop them in an
artistically efficacious way … preferences, procedures and choices are
always personal and vary according to circumstances (Barba, 2010a,
p. 11). This reflective tone does not always appear in his earlier, more
austere and certain writings.
Organic dramaturgy concerns the actors’ actions in the reality of
time and space, which can produce a kinaesthetic affect in spectators
50 Odin Teatret

(Barba, 2010a, p. 91). Although Odin Teatret performances rarely

have a linear plot, narrative dramaturgy concerns how the work is
assembled and shaped to convey meaning or affect of some sort. In
rehearsal, however, the actors do not necessarily know what level
Barba may be working on, and, ultimately, he tries to build a ‘con-
stellation of meanings’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 88). This multiplicity points
to the third type of dramaturgy, which is perhaps most elusive to
pinpoint and craft in rehearsal: this evocative dramaturgy concerns
the resonances or affects the work may have. Given the complexity
and subtlety of each production, evocative dramaturgy may well be
different for each spectator.
Carreri offers a useful organisational perception from someone
‘inside’ a performance. She reports how Barba differentiates between
three ‘logics’ of the performance: that of the actor, the energy of the
performance, and the theatrical logic perceived by the spectators
(Barba, 2010a, p. 64). Although a performance is, over time, allowed
to develop its own meaning, and each actor may develop individual
perceptions of his/her role in the performance and even what the
performance itself may mean, they seem to have a shared under-
standing of at least how the performance functions.
How the actor organises his/her performance is understood as the
actor’s dramaturgy. Undoing his authorial status somewhat, Barba
considers that ‘the concept of the dramaturgy of the actor implied
that my results as director did not derive only from my personal
creativity end technical know-how’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 24), a rather
circumspect acknowledgement that points to the actor’s autonomy.
Varley’s book offers a complete chapter on this area, ‘The
Dramaturgy of the Actress’ (Varley, 2011a), which is really a reflective
account of performance technique. Varley believes a vocabulary is
paramount, explaining, ‘I enhance my actress’s dramaturgy as instru-
ment, logic and technique with a personal terminology that I use to
explain my experience to myself and to try to make it accessible to
others’ (Varley, 2011a, pp. 21–2). Here, technique is potential, form
and process, as well as the need, crucial given Odin Teatret’s stress on
pedagogy, to articulate procedures. Nevertheless, as I have suggested,
Varley has called into question the subscore as one of the actor’s
‘levels of organisation’ (Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 100), suggesting
a more fluid, imaginative response than can appear in her several
work demonstrations, which are particularly technical. And Varley
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 51

carefully suggests that ‘a part of my experience is left out as soon as

I write about one aspect of my craft’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 20), suggest-
ing the limits of written, as well as oral articulation, and the value of
personal, tacit experience.
Some of the later Odin Teatret performances can challenge the
bond between directorial and actor-centric dramaturgies: Ester’s Book
and Salt, for example, both demonstrate a preponderance of narra-
tive dramaturgy. The Chronic Life has clear narrative lines. The actor–
director nexus is, however, contingent: the work of one cannot exist
without the other, and Barba’s threefold conception of dramaturgy
is, as he suggests, sometimes a theory that resists being successfully
played out in practice.

Rehearsal

In the twenty-first century, a significant amount of rehearsal at Odin

Teatret concerns maintaining or revising its extensive repertoire. One
reason productions are reworked is that, over the years, actors have
left the ensemble and have had to be replaced, or their roles absorbed
by other actors. Else Marie Laukvik recalls how even at the begin-
ning of Odin Teatret, she gained a bigger role in Ornitofilene because
another actor left (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 31). This has happened
throughout Odin Teatret’s history, when, as so often, circumstances
have led to pragmatic decisions.
Occasionally, new actors are incorporated into an existing produc-
tion: for example, Donald Kitt appears in Great Cities Under the Moon,
a performance pre-dating his entry into Odin Teatret. This develop-
ment builds Kitt’s performance experience with the group and also
shifts meaning in the production through the presence of a soldier
who speaks of his various operational duties. Elena Floris, brought
into projects principally as a violinist (for the Italian version of Ester’s
Book and then for The Chronic Life), appeared at the end of Andersen’s
Dream, disrupting the particularly rich action of that performance.
Sofia Monsalve came into the group for The Chronic Life and devel-
oped a substantial role.
A particularly difficult period of rehearsal took place during Torgeir
Wethal’s illness, when two versions of The Chronic Life were devel-
oped to allow him to be included. Bravely, Wethal attended rehears-
als of other performances too, reminding his colleagues of his actions
52 Odin Teatret

at certain points and helping to find solutions as to how a produc-

tion could be reworked and performed without him. Following his
death in 2010, the group decided that Wethal’s work, including his
substantial film output, should live on. This is a fine testament both
to collective desires and flexible abilities.
These instances exemplify changes, but productions are run
through prior to an activity like the Odin Week Festival or a tour,
especially if a performance is to be presented in a language ver-
sion not undertaken for some while. Although sections can simply
be marked through, collective memory has to be re-established at
these times. I have been present at a rehearsal of Great Cities Under
the Moon, in the repertoire since 2003, where actors struggled to
get through a particular section fluently. But these breakdowns in
rehearsal provided the opportunity to fix other things or fine-tune
music, since Barba will continue to make changes throughout the life
of a performance, and reinforce that the tacit knowledge of the actor
and the ensemble has to be revivified.
Odin Teatret’s rehearsal methodology for new work is particularly
demanding. As it concerns both making and shaping the new perfor-
mance, everyone is in the room together, where the basic approach
is to run the work as it stands, stopping, altering, adding more and
restarting as needed. Barba often calls out or claps to call a halt, and
the actors too can stop the work if a significant mistake is made.
Although some parts can be worked on in an adjoining studio, and
music or songs can be rehearsed separately, rehearsal ‘calls’ to work
on specific sections do not happen: cumulative ‘drafts’ of the perfor-
mance are simply repeated. As an extension of the praxis of training,
rehearsal is where technique is not only applied, but real learning
and development of the actor’s abilities can be cultivated.
From the point of view of acting, repetition is not necessarily
negatively demanding. For Varley ‘the effect of spontaneity for me
comes from repetition, from memorising and assimilating my score
during rehearsals. With time, this triple process becomes incorpo-
rated awareness, a way of making actions and of being’ (Varley,
2011a, pp. 66–7). To repeat, endlessly, is simultaneously to create, fix
and liberate the moment-by-moment activity of the score by culti-
vating ingrained, innate security. But Barba highlights the potential
futility of rehearsal, explaining that ‘it is an agonising process for
the actors, as it is for me, because it demands an excess of work in
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 53

an atmosphere of uncertainty. They have to improvise or compose

one scene after another without knowing whether these will be
used’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 13). Although he relies on the
raw material the actors provide, and tends to make decisions in the
immediacy of rehearsal, Barba has, as I have said, the ultimate say
in what is included in the performance. Nevertheless, both he and
the actors have to accept that rehearsal is characterised by effort and
the risk of waste.
Given the complex fabric of Odin Teatret’s performances, a selec-
tive focus on either vocal or physical aspects can be emphasised.
The two seminal films, Vocal Training at the Odin Teatret and Physical
Training at the Odin Teatret (1972) have perhaps reinforced the view
that voice and body are inevitably separated.18 As the films show, a
particular focus on developing either the actors’ vocal or physical
prowess, both suffused with imagination and personal associations,
has led to sometimes extraordinary results. This premise in training
points to a strategy in rehearsal that persists today.
For The Chronic Life, Barba asked Sofia Monsalve to prepare around
an hour’s worth of pre-rehearsal material that foregrounded her sing-
ing and musical abilities, creating a vocal score based on her mixed
Italian and Colombian heritage. Given that material is based in
physical scores, the selection and combining of action can, however,
dominate. Later, it may be that vocal (verbal or song) material pro-
posed or developed by one actor is used in performance to overlay,
for instance, others’ combined physical scores. Especially once an
initial assembly of the emergent performance has been arrived at,
vocal and physical aspects become increasingly intertwined.
One of the unusual features of Barba’s direction, however, is that
he leaves a close consideration of the oral or aural aspects until
last. Whilst I have been struck, as an observer, by how compelling
the musical part of the dramaturgy is or can eventually become,
and its almost constant presence, some parts in early rehearsal
seem neglected even in basic audibility. Vocal levels are not dealt
with until quite late. Even what language actors were eventually to
perform in was a decision made late in the process of developing The
Chronic Life. This demonstrates, of course, the status physicality has
in the Odin Teatret’s work, but also that Barba sees close work on
the performance’s soundscape as a summative process. Nevertheless,
a disciplined separation of the vocal and physical is clearly not
54 Odin Teatret

sacrosanct, and each may be emphasised or combined depending on

particular needs.
As a mature group with several stands of work internationally,
rehearsal for a new production has to be managed differently now. In
the early days, isolation was the requirement for creative development.
Now, the Odin simply cannot devote uninterrupted time to a new
project, so blocks of rehearsal are organised around the group’s other
(often very complex) work and travel schedules, which, since they
bring income, cannot simply be suspended. All of the later produc-
tions have had extended, but fragmented rehearsal. Salt, for example,
rehearsed for around five and a half years. The Chronic Life had periods
of rehearsal spanning four years, sometimes for only a few weeks at a
time, though up to a few months (as happened in early 2011).
Since its introduction into the Odin’s rehearsal process in the
1970s, video has become an invaluable resource in remembering
what has happened in rehearsal. As happened with The Chronic Life,
a final run-through at the end of each rehearsal block is recorded and
distributed to everyone involved on DVD.
As stage managers do not exist at Odin Teatret (though there are
technicians), the actors set up the space and their own props and
musical instruments. During rehearsals for The Chronic Life (2008–11)
the list of props, equipment and objects was continually added to
and altered, including metal military cases, an oil drum, a manne-
quin, and the Danish flag. Because of the regular changes, simply
remembering everything is a particular challenge. During rehearsal
for this performance, one of Barba’s assistants, Ana Woolf (from
Argentina), operated a little like a conventional deputy stage man-
ager, sometimes calling out the correct action from the latest version
of the script.
In rehearsal, instruction, information, the crafting of the overall
performance, and therefore progress, operates through fairly flexible,
overlapping processes. This shared work culture is also implied in the
idea of the theatre laboratory, as discussed earlier.
At the outset of a rehearsal session, Barba will often outline a gen-
eral approach and objectives, and sometimes the timetable of the
day. In contrast, he tends to speak to particular actors with specific
guidance that only s/he hears; this can be because subtle things con-
cerning that actor need to be addressed, or deliberately to create sur-
prise for the others. Barba also tends towards a kind of side-coaching
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 55

style of directing, calling out instructions during the ongoing action,

rather than stopping it. He can find things difficult, can appear
irritable and impatient, though the actors have praised his ‘super-
human’ patience (Carreri, 2011, p. 68). Given the evolution of the
aural, discussed above, Barba often signals for the manipulation of
volume, as well as for the layering of music or sound over dialogue or
action. Perhaps surprisingly, he occasionally demonstrates, although
this is better understood as his own figuring out of what it is that the
actor should do, not telling them how to do it (beyond the technical
level of the sequence of actions). At the end of a rehearsal, he gives
shared notes.
Barba has spoken of his reliance on assistants (Odin Teatret,
2010a), who are proactive in giving private responses to Barba. Most
recently, these select aides include Raúl Iaiza, Pierangelo Pompa,
and Ana Woolf. As well as Taviani’s presence over the years, Barba
collaborates with his regular Danish dramaturg, Thomas Bredsdorff.
Although final decisions are Barba’s, it seems that during the process
of rehearsal he needs feedback beyond the notion of the ‘first spec-
tator’, in order to ascertain the potential effects of the work and to
cultivate the ‘evocative dramaturgy’ of the emergent performance.
Although Barba spends most of his working life speaking English –
usually the working language for workshop projects in Holstebro or
elsewhere, as well as during the Odin Week Festival – English is rarely
used in rehearsal. Unless working on a multicultural performance,
where Asian languages occur and English also emerges as a com-
mon language for the wider participants (see Chapter 3), rehearsal
proceeds predominantly in Scandinavian languages and Italian,
often switching back and forth within the same discussion. Barba
tends to speak Italian and Norwegian, but not Danish, although the
latter is some of the actors’ own or acquired language, and is itself
close to Norwegian. However, for some actors, especially the Italian
speakers joining for The Chronic Life, translation had to take place, as
it does when Augusto Omolú is with the group.

The spectator and the scenic space

The term ‘audience’ is not part of the Odin’s vocabulary. Instead

‘spectators’ is used to imply a collective of individuals, affirming
the potential for individuated experience. This choice stems from
56 Odin Teatret

Grotowski’s preference, for whom ‘the word “audience” made him

[Grotowski] think of a sociological abstraction or of the psychol-
ogy of the crowd which replaced the independence of judgement
in the single individual’ (Barba, 2010a, p. xix). As Barba explains,
Grotowski’s terminology was a deliberately rebellious stance under
the then conformist regime in Poland.
Initially, Barba also derived the spatial arrangement of the Odin
Teatret’s performances from his experience at the Teatr Laboratorium
(Barba, 2010a, p. 47). Seating has often been set up in traverse, that
is, banks of seating facing each other on either side of a performance
space (Barba, 2010a, p. 47).19 Barba describes this arrangement in
metaphorical terms as a ‘space-river’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 46), in which
the spectators’ ‘attention sailed on a tide of actions which their gaze
could not fully encompass’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 47, original emphasis).
Whilst spectators can see their counterparts opposite, they cannot
necessarily take in the entire field of action from their particular
vantage point. This is simultaneously to know that the performance
is a shared event, but during which Barba obliges each spectator to
‘decide the hierarchy of events’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 47) by focusing on
moments or sequences. Returning to the interplay of the aural and
visual, this may also mean the spectator is watching one thing but
hearing something else.
Despite this apparent preference, throughout much of rehearsal
for The Chronic Life spectators were envisaged as seated on three
sides. However, the Odin Teatret’s upstairs Blue Room, a small space
some 4.7 x 8.5 metres, determined early rehearsals as compact and
intimate. Only later did the ‘river’ staging emerge. Later, when
rehearsal moved to the White Room, further rows of seating were
added.20 But during rehearsal in Poland one lunchtime (October
2010), a gang of observers helped realise Barba’s apparently sud-
den decision to alter the three-sided seating arrangement to tra-
verse. Extant action was orientated to this new spatial demand as
it occurred during the subsequent run-through. Unlike the design
constraints placed on so much theatre, the Odin Teatret’s practice
reinforces the idea that the spatial arrangement should respond to
the work itself, not vice versa.
Closer examination of the wider repertoire reveals that the concept
of the twin ‘river bank’ arrangement is not consistently borne out
in practice. Only In the Skeleton of the Whale uses a traverse setting,
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 57

and Andersen’s Dream, which ceased in 2011, had a similar, though

oval-shaped, arrangement. Nearly all of Odin’s later performances are
end on: for example Salt and Ester’s Book, and the earlier Great Cities
Under the Moon and Ode to Progress. All of the work demonstrations
face front, which is surprising to note given Barba’s claims about the
flowing and proxemic nature of the actor’s work (house lights are
also always left on to reinforce that demonstrations are sharing of
practice, not a performance). Furthermore, the default seating rostra
in each of Odin’s main working rooms is arranged facing in one
direction towards a performance area.
Spatial arrangement aside, Barba considers the stage space as three-
dimensional, wherein any single action causes another, as if part of
a ‘biological clock’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 45). The small spaces used for
performance are designed further to heighten the organic impact
of action on the spectators: as Barba explains, ‘by “organic” I mean
the actions that unleash a kinaesthetic commitment and are sensori-
ally convincing for the spectator’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 23). The specta-
tor is not meant to react (solely) intellectually or emotionally, but
should encounter the reality of the actors’ action and, as is implied
by Barba’s use of the term ‘kinaesthetic’, be moved in response; this
he terms ‘kinaesthetic empathy’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 23). Here, Barba
implicitly accords a status to spectators, trusting in their ability to
be affected by the performance, or, at least, does not assume their
passivity.

Organisation and process

Odin Teatret is not a large company, especially if its size is defined by

the number of actors. But it is a busy one. A key difference between
Odin Teatret in its early years and its nature now most clearly con-
cerns scale and diversity of operation.
Internally, daily schedules have to be produced, sometimes months
in advance, especially around the complexities of an international
tour or performance such as Ur-Hamlet, which involves performers
from several continents working on a huge, intercultural project.
Work is organised and supported by an administrative staff as well as
those connected to Odin Teatret Archives. This administrative group
meets participants of the Odin Week Festival in a special discussion
section, which usefully reveals wider organisational issues, and the
58 Odin Teatret

staff also features in the book Odin Teatret 2000 (Andraesen and
Kuhlmann, 2000).
Despite Barba’s self-definition as something of a ‘provocateur’, he
is also ‘a director as midwife’ (Barba, 2010a, pp. 89–90). The implied
gestation of a performance, sometimes over several years, requires,
however, the luxury of time as well as actors who can work in a way
commensurate with Barba’s directorial process. As the writings in
the programme for Andersen’s Dream attest (see Chapter 3), the desire
to make new work can be difficult to muster. In conversation, Tage
Larsen describes that

personally, it gets more and more difficult. I think also for some
others. This way of starting from nowhere, and trying to connect
things you can only have individual opinions about. It’s also frus-
trating to spend so much time. Sometimes, you are in a waiting
position and you just have to trust that the others will help with
the process. When you don’t know where to go then for me it
becomes impossible sometimes. (Larsen, 2011)

For Larsen, the difficulty is not necessarily the investment of time per
se, but trying to find new ideas and connections within such a pro-
cess, in which habits can easily surface amidst the lack of a concrete
context. Larsen suggests that the nature of the group can mitigate
against personal difficulty. The longevity of Odin Teatret partly rests,
then, on the fact that a core group continues to operate.
Financial challenges are constant. At one point (December 2009)
there was a serious risk of salaries not being paid. In September
2011, the Danish state theatre council cut half of the grant to Odin
Teatret’s international activities. Tours have been cancelled over the
years and can take several years to set up; for example, the 2010 tour
to the Piccolo Teatro in Milan was confirmed only after some years’
discussion and had fallen through a number of times. Comparatively,
the Odin’s performances are also fairly expensive.21 Conversely, Odin
Teatret undertook a long and very successful tour to Colombia in
2011, which also marked the final performances of Andersen’s Dream.
Over the first decade of the twenty-first century, the group expanded
its work in the new states of southeastern Europe. Earlier, Odin
Teatret had been greeted enthusiastically at La MaMa, New York,
USA, in 1984 and 1999, almost as if they were a new company (see,
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 59

for example, Rabkin, 2000). As discussed in the Introduction, the

Odin unfortunately does not enjoy quite that reception in the UK,
despite the interest in Grotowski shown by that country’s academic
community and the growth in alternative and physically based per-
formance. Barba’s early definition that ‘Third Theatre’ must ‘fight to
find an audience’ (Barba, 1979, p. 145) remains.
The group’s work and presence in its home town is of special
importance and fulfils the need to meet a different kind of audience.
A creative solution to the lack of a tour in 2009 was found through
a major period of ‘interventions’ in and around Holstebro (I discuss
this type of work more fully in Chapter 4). Local community audi-
ences are a special focus in the case of Festuge, which, according to
Barba, had unprecedented success in 2011 (Barba, 2011). Kai Bredholt
has particularly developed barter work and worked as a facilitator of
special projects in and for the community. Despite a tough period
of work in the first part of 2011, where Festuge followed on from
the tour of Colombia, and with an Odin Week Festival scheduled for
August of that year, Bredholt returned to Bovbjerg lighthouse (see
Chapter 4) for a further project with and about the local community
and its heritage.
More than ever, the actors do not just act, but, amongst a plethora
of duties and demands, each has to organise and stage-manage his/
her work; some direct, and all undertake administrative duties either
concerning solo tours, particular aspects of an ensemble tour, or
events within, for example, the Festuge. The actors teach too, which
is one way that a relationship to training is now maintained. This is
a key developmental change, since training itself, not rehearsal, once
defined the Odin as a new theatre group. Over time, training aimed
not only to increase technical ability in individuals and to cultivate
discipline, but also insisted upon a certain vocational ideology of
the actor: to train, not perform, defined the actor’s identity. In turn,
training has evolved to support how the actor is centrally located
in the process of developing a performance. Now, rehearsal houses
training.
One of the key changes to Odin Teatret is how performances
are rehearsed. The working rehearsal day seems to be shorter, too.
Although 12-hour days are frequent, and certainly arose during
rehearsals for Andersen’s Dream, the average rehearsal during The
Chronic Life ran from around 9 or 10 a.m. until 4 p.m., often with a
60 Odin Teatret

pretty long break after the morning væksthus period. This creates a
time frame of rehearsal based on slow, periodic development, rather
than long days as such.
If there is a mythology around Odin Teatret, then it centres on
training. In terms of the wider group, an early definition of train-
ing explained that ‘there are two parallel rails: one is the training.
The rehearsals and the performance are the other. These two parallel
rails allow the train – the group and its activity – to advance’ (Barba,
1979, p. 82). I have suggested that training serves as a way to develop
the actor’s energy, creativity and technique, but, given that many
of the actors are quite open to having stopped training, the reality
of formerly daily work has transformed into an ethic that remains
throughout the actor’s career. One of the most fundamental shifts
in the Odin’s practice is that a relationship to training, rather than
training itself, has become paramount; as Chapter 2 elaborates, train-
ing and the development of a production have become intrinsically
linked. Today, Barba’s ‘rails’ have converged.
Most of the work demonstrations naturally foreground training or
skill, since they centre around process and practices. Yet one problem
with all but the very latest work demonstrations – Letter to the Wind,
for example – is that their examples are drawn from older produc-
tions. Viewed critically, the work demonstrations tend to maintain
a narrative about Odin Teatret that does not necessarily reflect the
reality of its concerns in the twenty-first century. The Odin Teatret’s
story is, and will become, more urgently centred on the question of
legacy, or at least the passing on of traditions, which now appears
implicit in the Odin’s work, and especially through the establish-
ment of the CTLS and OTA archives.
For Barba, the figure of the director and directing itself is close
together. His directing relies on a tension between his earlier peda-
gogical incarnation, evidenced primarily in his insistence on training
(albeit a training that has now evolved in form and status) and his
increased reliance on the actors’ materials. Barba also remains the
centre of an authoritative performance dramaturgy. He is unques-
tionably an auteur, one who creates form and content; it is signifi-
cant that most of the Odin Teatret programmes state ‘dramaturgy
and direction by Eugenio Barba’, indicating at once a separation and
interweaving of the two symbiotic processes of working with actors
and creating a production.
 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice 61

An inescapable fact is the age of the actors. Bodies are failing and
cannot take the physical strain of rehearsal that characterised earlier
performances. Rehearsals in Wroclaw for The Chronic Life – a title that
includes ironic reference to the condition of some of its actors – had
to stop a little early due to Larsen’s knee problems. Carreri often
works through pain because of her injuries (Carreri, 2007). The actors
have included the issue of age in their writings (Wethal, 2004; Varley,
2011a). On the other hand, maturity brings experience and a pro-
found mutual understanding, although habits must still be broken.
Despite years of work, successful procedures or outcomes cannot
be guaranteed. Barba is aware of ‘the risk of arbitrariness and lack of
precision … a confusion of stimuli’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 92). Although
Barba reinforces his wish to stimulate spectators here, the process
can never rest on hard and fast ‘rules’. Rehearsal includes periods
of destroying what has been made through the ‘principle of over-
turning’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 12). Given that this is a principle, not a
strategy, Barba suggests that, paradoxically, one must first regularly
destroy in order ultimately to find complex solutions – recalling,
perhaps, his book’s title, Burning the House (Barba, 2010a).
2
‘A privileged universe’: Training
at Odin Teatret

There is something of a mythology around training at Odin Teatret; it

can apparently veer between extraordinarily hard and creatively liber-
ating, both of which can be compelling to the outsider. As one of its
most significant features, training has provided a technical and creative
core that has helped sustain Odin Teatret well into the new century.
The actors’ training, which stresses a psychophysical connec-
tion of body and imagination in the understanding of the actor’s
process, draws its inspiration from those movements that Barba
calls the ‘Great Reform’ in actor training of the early twentieth
century (Barba, 1979, p. 76), such as Meyerhold’s biomechanics or
Copeau’s holistic training. The training also resonates with more
contemporary practices such as the emphases of Jacques Lecoq,
which similarly seeks out actor-centric languages of theatre through
a questioning spirit. The Odin’s training is thus rooted in a variety
of sources – including Grotowski’s, of course – but comprises original
and predominantly physical and improvisatory exercises developed
by the actors themselves.
Rather than a training in order to be able to act in a particular
style or genre, the Odin’s approach accompanies the actor’s working
life, in which each actor begins by pursuing established principles
through overtly physical or acrobatic training and, later, more
personal choices in his or her work. This means that each actor
develops individual emphases in his/her own practice. As such, the
Odin Teatret’s centralisation of continuous training emphatically
rejects the kind of conservatoire theatre education that characterises
‘traditional’ theatre, when actors train for a prescribed period of time

62
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 63

through an agreed syllabus (which, compared to the Odin’s training,

seems astonishingly short) which operates within a set of cultural
norms. At the Odin, training is an ongoing, fertile, inventive ground
against which the actor measures him/herself.
An emphasis on training also suggests a philosophy of the actor.
Although younger actors have joined the group since the turn of
the century as apprentices, established actors do not lose touch with
the values of their professional lives as defined by training. Julia
Varley (who joined the group in 1976) reflects that, ‘I train in all
possible ways. I need training: it prevents me from disappearing or
dying little by little as an actress. Training continues to teach me to
think with my feet’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 48). For Varley, the activity of
training is existence, a way of defining oneself as an actor away from
the more obvious visibility of performance. Barba too insists, ‘actors
should only be recognised as such if they are capable of justifying in
practice a constant search for meaning and a new value in their art’
(Barba, 1999a, p. 93). Like the actors, Barba is resolutely pragmatic;
one is an actor only because of action and the search for the new.
On the other hand, the scheduled, daily training that has formed
a significant part of Odin Teatret’s history no longer takes place.
Although an apprenticeship may be long and arduous, training can
have a conclusion, whereby the actor has ‘trained’ at a primary level.
For some of the seasoned actors, training is now only linked to the
needs of performance; for example, Roberta Carreri reports that dur-
ing the run-up to The Chronic Life,

at the moment, my training consist of learning to play two musi-

cal instruments, as well as work with a mask and what I call the
‘masked voice’. I close myself up for three, four hours every day in
Sanjukta’s Tower1 and research. This is possible for me because we
are starting the work on a new production soon and Eugenio has
asked us to come on May 4th with an hour of materials, a fixed
sequence of songs and actions. (Carreri, 2009)

For Carreri, the devising of materials is training in that it is an oppor-

tunity to learn new things and to engage in creative practice as a
form of research. Although this is primarily work on material, not
the actor him/herself, it still espouses the fundamentals of training,
which concerns pushing the boundaries of the actor’s intrinsic skill
64 Odin Teatret

through personal and professional development when confronted by

creative challenges.

A shifting ground

This chapter sketches the broad historical development of training

before looking at more contemporary aspects and how training is
promoted through the Odin’s teaching activities.
Varley describes how the Odin’s training – or, more precisely, the
training of the first two decades of the Odin’s existence – can be bro-
ken down into three phases: the first is the early period up to around
1966, when, in the second phase, actors started to invent their own
exercises, individuating these through their own variations and per-
sonal rhythm. A key development is the 1974 journey to Carpignano
(discussed in Chapter 4), which, according to Iben Nagel Rasmussen,
‘exploded our training’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 56). For Varley, the
third phase concerns returning to a sense of laboratory, of ‘personal
curiosities and questions of each actress and actor, at times in relation
to research or tasks for a new performance’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 44). On
a more personal level, some actors, though not all, divide their experi-
ence of training phases into ‘seasons’ (Turner, 2004, p. 29). This com-
ment and Varley’s analysis reinforce how training is long term and
shifting, but nevertheless based on the individual, an understanding
that drives the work in the twenty-first century.
But to prescribe exact dates to various phases risks cutting off the
osmosis that occurs as the work evolves according to the needs of
the actors. Rather than a division into discrete sections, what is use-
ful is to highlight some of the key changes that the actors or Barba
identify as significant. Since there is not a fixed training syllabus,
new actors who join the group may begin with early exercises (often
gymnastics) long abandoned by others, but mixed up with other
practices that emerged later; this chapter discusses what the very lat-
est recruits encountered. Older actors have also returned to certain
ideas elaborated earlier in their training; here, important questions
can be raised: what does it mean to train throughout the actor’s pro-
fessional life? Is it possible or necessary? When and why training has
stopped is a further consideration.
A point that this chapter challenges is how training is often considered
as separate from performance. Whilst the Odin’s training is essentially
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 65

pre-performative – that is, it cultivates the actor’s presence away from

the imperatives or particular needs of performance – examples exist
where features of training have influenced the development of a
production.
As well as furthering its pedagogic philosophy, training is also
fundamental to promoting Odin’s work and legacy through long-
term workshops for international participants; these are a necessary
source of income too and sometimes a mechanism within larger
projects, such as Ur-Hamlet and The Marriage of Medea (see Chapter 5
for a discussion of both). Aside from this, all of the actors teach or
lead workshops as part of tours or as events in themselves. This is not
an adjunct to production activity; to return to Carreri, for example,
teaching ‘is a necessity for me. It is a way for me to make what I know
my own by transmitting it’ (Carreri, 1999, p. 1). The word ‘necessity’,
so often used in Odin’s rhetoric, is linked to the belief that to know
something is to be able to articulate it in response to another; this is
to encounter training in a different mode.

A small tradition

As a new group in 1964 in Oslo, with little experience and few skills,
and virtually no money, the Odin’s training was characterised by
autodidactic training. Even if members had only a rudimentary grasp
of areas like mime or ballet, this was shared. Barba too taught, lead-
ing the actors verbally through exercises he had encountered whilst
at Grotowski’s theatre, particularly the voice work (Barba can be seen
working in the film Vocal Training at the Odin Teatret). Barba also on
occasion demonstrated physical exercises, something that has been
rarely heard about; Nagel Rasmussen recalls:

in the first years he would still occasionally get up to demonstrate

a particular exercise: the head- or shoulderstand, when his white
shirt would fall down revealing a dark skin. Silence reigns in the
room, except for occasional remarks from the man with glasses.
(Nagel Rasmussen, 2008, Part II, p. 9)

Barba intended that ability would increase through the pooling

of scant mutual resources, described here as taking place in an
atmosphere of seriousness. But, as he explains looking back from the
66 Odin Teatret

passage of several decades, choices ‘did not grow from a doctrine,

but from my doubts and the questions they aroused’ (Barba, 2007,
p. 1). Echoing Carreri’s much later definition of training in relation
to performance, the group’s basis in autodidactic work established a
kind of research, as if an original approach to training would allow
the artistic identity of the group to emerge. This characterises the
Odin’s ‘small tradition’ (Turner, 2004, pp. 11–13).
Two more sets of influences were – and remain – important to
Barba. Barba embraced the work of Stanislavski, Meyerhold and
Eisenstein; Brecht also is frequently present in Barba’s thinking and
writing. Barba had also introduced his encounter with Kathakali to
Grotowski’s theatre following his trip in 1963 to the Kalamandalam
in Cheruthuruthy, Kerala, India. Although little in Odin’s early train-
ing was taken directly from Kathakali (an arduous and long-term
training in itself), eye exercises are clearly derived from this source.2
But this emergent training was no pick-and-mix approach, since
Barba explains, ‘like a melting pot in which the most disparate met-
als fuse, so inside me at the outset I tried to blend together the most
diverse influences, the impressions which for me had been the most
fertile’ (Barba, 1979, p. 76). Despite its eclecticism, the training was
attempting to lace together an approach that made sense, at least
subjectively.
Barba explains that the true value of exercises is psychological; since
they can be incrementally mastered, what matters for the actor is
‘the knowledge that he [sic] can succeed’ (Barba, 1979, p. 67, original
emphasis). But the unusual and demanding approach did not suit
everyone, and by rehearsals for the first production, Ornitofilene
(1965–6), there were but a few actors. One actor did not move from
Oslo to Holstebro in 1966, so the Odin did not have a performance
to show in its new home. Training became a central activity for
Torgeir Wethal, Else Marie Laukvik, Anne Trine Grimnes and Iben
Nagel Rasmussen, who joined the Odin in its new Danish home.
Nagel Rasmussen reports that, although a performance was to be
prepared, training began immediately, in which the fixed shape or
rhythm of an exercise could be nuanced through a personal ‘story’
(Christoffersen, 1993, p. 52).
An early, qualitative link between training and performance
is reported by Laukvik, who describes how slow motion became
a feature of training during development of the Odin’s second
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 67

performance, Kaspariana (1967–8) and became a feature of the pro-

duction (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 33). This is not necessarily a skills-
outcome connection, as in other models of training.
‘Composition training’ appeared too, when elements are placed
together consciously, rather than freely improvised, and demon-
strates a particularly strong relationship between physicality and
mental image. This development stems from Ryszard Cieslak’s work;
he, together with Grotowski, had travelled to Holstebro in 1966.
Laukvik has taken a special interest in teaching composition; speak-
ing to me in 2010, she explains that

when you improvise you can have two different ways: you can
start with a movement that leads to an image, like, ‘I’m taking
something, ah, it’s an apple’, and I get this image and that leads
to another thing. Or I can start with an image and then comes
the action, the movement. In the composition work, which has
to do with composing, I alternate between these two ways; so I can
start to walk in a typical ‘Marcel Marceau’ style and it gives me an
image and I change it. This is usually what happens in a compo-
sition; that you start with the body first, then comes the image.
(Laukvik, 2009)

Linking exercises or actions together as chains or sequences, and bas-

ing or infusing these with the actor’s personal justification, remains
a key feature of the Odin Teatret training and creates each actor’s
personal ‘temperature’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 80).
An emphasis on non-verbal sound, so prevalent in the perfor-
mances, stems from the Odin’s move from Oslo to Denmark. Barba’s
description of that time is especially rich:

I was obliged to devise an arrangement of vocal actions and

peripeteias which could enthrall the spectators independently of
their comprehension of the words. Exclamations and calls, whis-
pers, muttering, shouts, groans, laughter, sudden silence, crystal
clear or hoarse tones, phrases modulated as nursery rhymes,
psalms or traditional songs, intonations as litanies or animal
sounds – bleating, neighing, twittering – were the basis for our
sonorous dramaturgy. And, above all, during a dramatic climax,
singing replaced words. (Barba, 2010a, p. 40)
68 Odin Teatret

The obligation to move away from verbal meaning to a rich palette

of sound clearly augmented the actors’ creative potential. For Barba,
oral and aural aspects provided another layer in the emerging com-
plexity of his productions; he states that for a period of around eight
years, training and performance deliberately explored ‘the sonorous
aspect of the voice’ (Barba, 1986, p. 76).
As the film Vocal Training at the Odin Teatret shows, the actors
often work with the voice independently from physicality; during
the filmed vocal improvisations, the actors are fairly still and always
stand. Despite this apparently normative approach, the voice is con-
sidered holistically. The early film clearly demonstrates how vocality
can respond to stimuli, taking it way beyond normative speech.
Much later, Varley explains that ‘the voice that strokes like smoke is
different from the voice that falls like rain or that cuts a ripe peach’
(Varley, 2011a, p. 35). Such affective imagery is not to say that more
technical or deliberated voice work does not take place; in her work
demonstration Traces in the Snow (1989), Carreri demonstrates how
she pursued voice autodidactically, through, for example, imitating
a collection of multicultural vocal work she collected together on
old records.
Not least because of the multiplicity of languages spoken amidst
the Odin’s culture, voice in training and performance is often con-
sidered as sheer sound and its acoustic force is allied to potential
dramaturgical impact. As Barba explains, ‘the voice is an extension
of our body and gives us the possibility of concrete intervention even
at a distance’ (Barba, 1979, p. 68). It is considered an action in its
own right; for example, in Traces in the Snow, Carreri demonstrates
the ‘placing’ of the voice in space way beyond the immediate loca-
tion of the body, explicitly linking this technique to a section from
Judith. And even if text is spoken in training, exercises that break
the link between intonation and meaning are devised. Varley’s work
demonstration The Dead Brother shows how the melody of a song, for
example, can be used as the cadence for text.
Much of what Nagel Rasmussen has developed vocally over the
years can be seen in her performance White as Jasmine, though
she has been especially proactive in developing training. Nagel
Rasmussen’s development of her own physical and vocal exercises in
the later 1960s began to influence other actors, so much so that col-
lective training began to decline in favour of individual, exploratory
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 69

work. The actor investigated certain principles, which would in

turn lead to the formation of training exercises. Nagel Rasmussen
explained to me that she invented what have sometimes been called
the ‘Swiss’ exercises,3 explaining, ‘I asked myself, “what is a dramatic
action”, and I found a way of going out of balance, going to the floor,
then back up again’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). Rather than master-
ing a form so that it can be developed through rhythm, qualities of
energy or ways of altering the precision of the body (through weight,
for example), here the process is inverted.
In an attempt to break what Torgeir Wethal calls the ‘“psychic
clichés”’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 48) that the more fluid, person-
alised training began to cause, the group returned to much tougher,
acrobatic-based training during the late 1960s and early 1970s,
which demonstrates already the circular nature of the training over
time. Long hours of work, sometimes over 12 hours daily, also built
up what Barba calls a ‘muscular psyche’ (Watson, 1995, p. 49).
Wethal comments wryly, ‘if you could manage to survive that period,
you could survive anything’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 48). But a more
negative osmosis between training and performance lurks here,
since Wethal suggests that the competitiveness of the Ferai com-
pany (1969–70) seemed to result from the apparently brutal training
regime that occurred during the period (Christoffersen 1993, p. 48).
After Ferai, the group was disbanded and reformed.
The training around the period of Odin’s next performance,
Min Fars Hus, was, according to Laukvik, more intense or com-
pacted, which nevertheless made it freer and a ‘kind of liberation’
(Christoffersen, 1993, p. 36). But both Wethal and Laukvik began to
relax their training, and, after a decade, started to withdraw from
the training room for a period. Barba also began to withdraw from
training during the early 1970s up to around 1974. Although this
indicates that the actors were capable of running and developing
their own training, as they are today, the responsibility for its dis-
cipline also became theirs. Barba anyway maintains that he works
with actors, he doesn’t train them (Barba, 1986, p. 88), though did
involve himself in the 1974 training in Carpignano, Italy, as can be
seen in the film In Search of Theatre. During the group’s residence
in Carpignano, the Book of Dances (1974–80) was also developed.
To a great extent, this is built from training exercises and impro-
visations, although some, according to Wethal, were learnt by rote
70 Odin Teatret

(Christoffersen, 1993, p. 118), to which other elements such as

music and costume were added.
From 1974 to 1976, training appears to have diminished in sig-
nificance for everyone, but soon after, the ‘fish pool’ (fiskedam) work
occurred, when actors trained simultaneously yet individually in the
room (film of this exists on the OTA website). This was sometimes
accompanied by the Odin’s musicians or by each other’s musical
abilities; Barba reports too that percussion accompanied training
in 1974 (Barba, 1986, p. 77). Similar work has been called væksthus
(greenhouse) when actors’ improvised or technical training happens
together in the room as a support for rehearsal. Work on The Million
(1978–84) also brought in non-Western forms, as the actors dispersed
to bring back alternative training influences that might inform the
performance.
Carreri was the last actor to train directly with Barba, and her work
demonstration Traces in the Snow is a rich evocation of the develop-
ment in her work. She also teaches prolifically. Like other actors,
Carreri’s training has sometimes stopped or changed course; in Traces
in the Snow, she explains how, for example, after years of working
through more expanded forms, she took the apparently radical step
of sitting on the floor to explore the principle of segmenting every
part of the body through precise movement. Carreri has also sought
out training in Japanese Butoh, which influenced the development
of Judith (see Chapter 5). But the creation of Traces in the Snow is
perceived to have marked the conclusion to her physical training
(Carreri, 2009), though she has come to realise that this can be more
accurately traced to producing her solo show, Judith. At that time,
organisational and financial administration, although in themselves
new areas to be learnt, had to take priority over personal training, as
well as her increasing pedagogical activity (Carreri, 2009).
During the late 1970s apprentices began to work with some of
the older actors, a process that has continued into the twenty-first
century. Following the comparative stability of the group’s mem-
bership dating from the experiences in Carpignano, Barba became
(and remains) highly resistant to new actors. However, new recruits
still wanted to join. It was agreed that Nagel Rasmussen and Larsen
would ‘adopt’ new recruits as a solution to how these apprentices
might be able to train. Larsen and Rasmussen become responsible
financially for the new recruits, who initially included Toni Cots,
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 71

Sylvia Ricciardelli and Francis Pardeilhan. These actors had been

part of the ‘International Brigade’, a training programme designed
to disseminate some of Odin’s methodology, an imperative that
exists still.
Having been active in theatre and politics in Italy, Julia Varley
also travelled to Odin Teatret in 1976 in order to undertake training
for three months before returning to Italy. However, Varley decided
to remain at the Odin and, despite overt hostility from Barba (see
Varley, 2011a, p. 130) was ‘adopted’ by Larsen. The early apprentices
were asked to take part in Anabasis (1977–84); in the new millen-
nium, this process of long apprenticeship followed by some involve-
ment in performance has also been the case with actors Mia Theil
Have and Donald Kitt and, most recently, Sofia Monsalve.
Although other actors were asked to teach the ‘adopted’ pupils
(for example, Wethal taught the acrobatic exercises for a month in
1979), a consciousness of legacy through training seems driven, sig-
nificantly, by some of the actors. As Nagel Rasmussen explains, ‘for
me, the problem was to transmit, to feel that what we had acquired
did not stop with us’ (Watson, 1995, p. 55).
Longer-term training and research projects, as well as the mas-
ter–apprentice arrangement, are imperatives which continue today.
Mia Theil Have trained with Larsen, before leaving Odin Teatret in
2006, but describes the teacher–pupil arrangement as one where ‘the
bond is as strong as if you were family’ (Theil Have, 2009). Nagel
Rasmussen has taken a particular interest in the type of activities
that will develop a next generation, running Farfa (her group for
young actors) from 1983 and, later, The Bridge of Winds and the
New Winds, an international group who continue to work together
(there is also a book on this later work; Acquaviva and Romana Rietti,
2001). To reach out is clearly central to the ethos of Odin Teatret in
its mature form, challenging a view that the Odin is introverted and
private.
Barba was away from the Odin during 1981 in order to pur-
sue new developments with the International School of Theatre
Anthropology (ISTA). Stemming from its beginnings in 1979, the
encounter with the transcultural principles explored by ISTA caused
a renewed interest in the ‘pre-expressive’ base of the actor’s work – that
is, the principles and practices that exist prior to the moment of
performance – which, Barba claims, can be seen across cultural
72 Odin Teatret

performance practices (see Chapter 5). Through the influence of

ISTA, Varley reports that certain theoretical terminology began to
permeate the Odin’s training, but she was cautious of it since ‘the
training was no longer carried out and transmitted only in silence,
but was also theorised through words and concepts … I don’t need
these words: training continues to be a privileged universe of action’
(Varley, 2011a, p. 48). Varley stresses training as action, not some-
thing that should be conceptualised.
Perhaps more usefully for Varley is that during his absence Barba
asked Ingemar Lindh to work with the new recruits. Lindh was a direct
pupil and assistant of Etienne Decroux.4 Drawing together both voice
and physical work, often dealt with separately (as the early didactic
films exemplify), Varley reports how Lindh was the first to ask her to
dance and sing at the same time (Varley, 2011a, p. 17). Later, Varley
developed a vocal work demonstration, The Echo of Silence (1991),
based on the principle of ‘reduction’, or condensing an action whilst
maintaining its core impulse, but as applied to the voice. A practical
encounter with the Nihon Buyo dancer Katsuko Azuma also helped
Varley with how to place her character’s weight and walk in Brecht’s
Ashes (Varley, 2011a, p. 99).
The performance work of the early 1980s also demonstrates a
link between training and performance. As well as her work with
sticks, flags and drums, which contributed to the fabric of outdoor
performances, some of Varley’s work in Brecht’s Ashes I came out of
her training. Nagel Rasmussen’s archetypal ‘white character’, seen in
parades and street performance, as well as the film Dressed in White,
developed from points explored in her training. Nagel Rasmussen
also explains how a particularly powerful character, Kattrin in Brecht’s
Ashes, which also appears in the much later Great Cities Under the
Moon, developed from training, because ‘my work has gradually
become more technically orientated. Kattrin was not created on the
basis of improvisation. She was composed as an action pattern which
only later was given meaning in relationship to the contexts in which
she was used in the production’ (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 101). This is
radically different from an approach to character as an elaboration of
psychological necessity in a dramatic text and reveals something of
Barba’s particular approach to montage, dramaturgy and context.
Although he has had a mixed relationship with training, Torgeir
Wethal also stresses the technical basis to the work of the mid-1980s,
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 73

which he describes as analytical and cold (Christoffersen, 1993, p. 50).

Wethal began to work on precise, small movements, trying to discover
the maximum energy available through the minimum means and a
corresponding inner justification for each action. This exploration
was the basis for his section in the ensemble work demonstration,
The Whispering Winds (1996; Wethal’s part appears on the OTA web-
site). In his solo demonstration, The Paths of Thought (1992), Wethal
showed how justified action relates to the development of a charac-
ter and performance.

Training in the new millennium

At root, the Odin Teatret training concerns how the actor is present
in the time and space of the specific performance situation. Even the
most basic acrobatics teach that the actor must be in the present and
concentrated, or they will simply get hurt.
Much earlier in the Odin’s history, Ferdinando Taviani high-
lighted that the difference between each Odin actor’s training,
at least once beyond the root acrobatic work, offered an alterna-
tive to his (rather negative) view of the theatre school curriculum
(Taviani, 1979, p. 47). As Taviani suggests, the actor must learn on
his/her own terms since the ‘lack of elementary points of agreement
implies the impossibility of a “scholastic” pedagogy of the actor
based on a tradition, a practice and a science’ (Taviani, 1979, p. 44).
The Odin’s training may well encourage difference as a deliberate
strategy towards individualism, but certain exercises and ‘agree-
ments’ do exist, otherwise elements could not be passed on from
teacher to pupil. Although actors later develop particular interests
or emphases, there are core, mutual concerns such as the use of
energy, weight, balance, the virility and form of the body, the force
of the voice, the use of space and so on. Even if the actors’ work
demonstrations are pre-rehearsed (though relatively loose), these
too are expressions and objective displays of how individual train-
ing has developed, which, as Varley has suggested, can be articulated
through more theoretical terminology.
Whilst the paradigm of the actor at Odin Teatret prioritises the
actor’s own nature, body and imagination, it also seeks to stretch and
shatter this, typically by breaking habituated responses or means of
expression. In the new millennium, Theil Have describes the holistic
74 Odin Teatret

nature of training, possible because of the passage of time and the

accumulated, mutual experience of the group, writing:

all the Odin training forms are based on strong principles

described in Theatre Anthropology. So, for example, with slow
motion you have to work with counter positions: if you are getting
up from the floor, you have to work in the opposite direction,
pulling yourself down. You are creating resistance. This has a
specific quality and energy. The vocal training was the resonator
system (from Grotowski), as well as singing and voice techniques
found in ethnic singing. It is also normal for the actors to learn to
play various instruments by themselves and then propose these
for the performance work. (Theil Have, 2009, original emphasis)

Although the training is individuated here, it is based on recur-

ring principles that, as Varley also describes, seem to be articulated
through a shared, if relatively recent, terminology. For Theil Have,
precise reference points aid focus and technique.
To a very great extent, the reason that the regular, even daily,
training of Odin Teatret’s formative years simply does not happen
any longer is primarily to do with the maturity of the actors. Carreri
explains that training now only really exists in the context of the
early stages of rehearsal, describing that

Eugenio Barba has been my director throughout the thirty-five

years of my professional life. We know each other very well. In
order to find the prospect of making a performance together again
stimulating, we have to manage to surprise each other … We try
to find new keys to open new doors. With time this is getting
more and more difficult … Now, the training is the moment of
creation of new propositions for the director. For me, this implies
learning new techniques. At the moment, I confront myself with
doing things I don’t know how to do … I need to be present with
my body and my mind. I have to undergo a process of learning
and incorporate this knowledge through repetition: through the
training. (Carreri, 2009)

This moves beyond training as physical or vocal virtuosity and con-

cerns a strategic confrontation with creative challenges in order to
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 75

keep the actor and the performance making process alive. Odin’s
stress on autodidacticism also clearly continues in Carreri’s example.
But even to be able to train is not easy, especially for the newcomer.
Mia Theil Have describes her own challenge as one where

the process of my becoming an actor here involved a constant

struggle to get creative time in the working room. Starting my
training early in the morning was a practical arrangement, but
it was also linked to a thought that appealed greatly to me: since
theatre is a craft, work should start early in the morning like it
would for any labourer. I was attracted to the work of Odin Teatret
for its mysteries and at the same time for its pragmatic practices
and social views. (Theil Have, 2009)

In this instance, training had become a real issue to organise because

other activities dominate, and a fundamental culture cannot always
be allied to possibilities in the daily schedule. As with other aspects of
training, Theil Have was thrown back on her own resourcefulness.
The key point of Odin Teatret’s training is not its form or solo
nature but, since it is ongoing, the process of accumulating and
testing knowledge as an individual. The task of ‘learning to learn’
(Barba, 1999a, pp. 85–91) is the true value of the work and, because
what needs to be learnt will shift as the actor develops, is a way to
appreciate its longevity. In this respect, Taviani stresses proactivity
in his summary in The Floating Islands, writing that what the actor
knows is ‘a knowledge that one knows only as long as one exercises
it’ (Barba, 1979, p. 52, original emphasis); training thus continues to
have a fundamentally durational and pragmatic value encountered
through the somatic.
Laukvik, who has returned to personal training, neatly joins up her
practical experience, her own developments, her teaching and the
issue of embodied knowledge, explaining:

many of the basic things are so old; many like the ‘snake arm’ and
so on, and certain with the elbows, are from the Grotowski era …
that I saw 40 years ago. But then you develop [them] and you accu-
mulate different things. Now of course I am nearly 65, so if I train
a lot for one hour what I can do physically is limited. But they [her
students] had some very big problems with some walks, although
76 Odin Teatret

they are younger, so they [the exercises] are like something which
is still in the body, which does not go away. (Laukvik, 2009)

Developing as an actor thus concerns embodied knowledge, or what

Barba’s key essay, ‘Tacit Knowledge: Heritage and Waste’ (chosen to
be reprinted in a book to mark the new millennium), articulates as
‘knowledge-in-action … as if the body itself, a hand, a foot, the spine
were doing the thinking, without involving the head’ (Andreasen
and Kuhlmann, 2000, p. 13, original emphasis). This is a knowledge
born of an encounter with the fullest definition of the actor’s own
bodymind, which breeds self-reliance, the ability to make choices,
strength, and ongoing personal and professional creativity.
As long ago as the late 1980s, Nagel Rasmussen raised the question
of ageing: ‘we are getting older, and on the technical level this is
very exciting. What is going to happen to those of us at Odin Teatret
when we no longer have the same physical strength?’ (Christoffersen,
1993, p. 106). Although strength is linked to ability here, a reduction
in physical might is also seen as a creative possibility.
Nagel Rasmussen remains a forceful performer, but her production
Ester’s Book is extremely still, and much is delivered seated with only
simple, precise physical action, which complements the filmic aes-
thetic of the piece and its exploration of memory. Once, the pitch at
which training was carried out prepared the actor for the extremis of
the performance situation because ‘the power of the battery which
drives the actor in his [sic] training is the same as that which drives
him in the performance’ (Barba, 1979, p. 84). As with the implica-
tions of the extra-daily (see Chapter 5), training must be carried out
at the fullest appropriate energy. But for some of the actors, energy
is now very different from the early days; as Carreri says, ‘I need to
break my automatism of being strong and exuberant, and instead
develop a presence that is still formalised but in small actions. I have
to find a way to implode’ (Carreri, 2009). This is a denser form of
energy in a more compact form.
Varley’s experience also shows how the actor’s relationship with
the body changes due to the process of ageing, but also demonstrates
how the circularity of training can cause renewal through a decision
to return to basics. Varley says that

after thirty years of training during which I have confronted dif-

ferent aspects of the complexity of the actress’s work, I feel the
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 77

desire to turn back and have a simpler and more rudimental rela-
tionship with my body, to encourage and treat it well. For me now
training is also a kind of gymnastics to rediscover, reawaken and
re-experience a primary energy: exercises to strengthen my back,
align my bones, maintain the muscle tone and prevent pains and
contractions. (Varley, 2011a, p. 44)

In this case, a ‘simple’ relationship to the body is also therapeutic.

One recent example of how training is simultaneously technically
objective and personally creative is Donald Kitt’s apprenticeship with
Odin Teatret. Although no actor joins Odin Teatret in anything like
a standard way, Kitt had a particularly evolving relationship with the
group. Having trained and worked as an actor in ‘mainstream’ the-
atre in Canada, Kitt became disillusioned with the type of work he
encountered. He began developing a training, from 1989, under the
direction of Richard Fowler in a manner heavily influenced by Odin
Teatret, as well as alone and autodidactically. Kitt moved to Italy and
worked for a further seven years, before beginning a period of travel
in Europe. Throughout a 17-year period, Kitt had often encountered
the work of the Odin, and had assisted on projects with The Bridge of
Winds and the 2005 Festuge. He eventually joined the Odin in 2006
via assisting on Don Giovanni all’Inferno (2006)5, mainly as a techni-
cian. As well as his personal training, Kitt is known for his work as a
stilt performer and teacher.
As mentioned in Chapter 1, actors have undertaken training via
an involvement in a production and Kitt too followed this pattern.
Kitt had met Larsen during the 1998 ISTA in Portugal. Larsen agreed
to develop a solo performance with Kitt; eventually, after some two
years of fragmented work, The Starry Messenger (2005) was made.6 Kitt
especially stresses the vocal work Larsen was able to share through
his direction of the performance (Kitt, 2009), but Larsen also showed
Kitt a series of exercises using a two-metre stick, which are based on
Peking Opera exercises. As well as his stilt work, Kitt now, in turn,
teaches the stick work during Odin Teatret workshops.
One part of Kitt’s training is a score called ‘The Leaf Saviour’, made
up of what he calls ‘plastique exercises’ (Kitt, 2009). This terminology
stresses the physical nature of the work, yet, mirroring other actors’
experience with ‘chains’ of exercises, Kitt explains that ‘I play with
certain images physically, but maintaining the material story’ (Kitt,
2009), suggesting again the osmosis between form and image via
78 Odin Teatret

improvisation, which characterises so much of the Odin’s training.

Thus training models what happens in performance since not only
must the performer deal with an overall structure and engage with
the moment-by-moment action of work, but also with its multiple
layers, which may comprise imaginative associations as well as a
physical dynamic.
Mirroring Carreri and Theil Have, Kitt explains how regular, daily
training is difficult to achieve and virtually impossible when on tour
(Kitt, 2009). It is nevertheless diverse, and can be defined as specific
preparation for a performance – either reviving something that has
not been performed for a while or through developing specific skills
such as playing an instrument for a new performance – or each
actor’s more formalised physical or vocal training. Training is a con-
stant reference point; as Kitt tellingly put it: ‘in training I am opening
myself to perform. I perform with the knowledge of my training …
I would feel like a charlatan if I hadn’t developed something through
my work’ (Kitt, 2009).
Training has been part of a creative process in the new century as
the Odin returned to a type of fiskedam training during rehearsal for
The Chronic Life (Figure 2.1). Daily rehearsals began with a one-hour
period of mutual training from 8 to 9 a.m. These sessions were called
væksthus (literally, ‘grow house’, or greenhouse or nursery), thereby
stressing the nurturing of potential material within the ongoing
rehearsal work. This work also complimented the actors’ earlier solo
preparation.
I observed some væksthus sessions in June 2009, briefly again after-
wards, and then for a week in Wroclaw in 2010. The description below,
taken from my notes of an early session, can serve as a useful window
onto a particular period of activity I witnessed over a few days:

At the beginning, there is a mixture of basic stretching and lim-

bering, though some actors begin work immediately. Some are
in training clothes; the rest wear costume. Scores quickly appear.
Kai Bredholt and Roberta Carreri practice a Latin American dance
and Ana Woolf helps. Iben Nagel Rasmussen practices positions
using a sword as a prop; it is obviously a new area and she has to
pause to correct herself or consult Raúl Iaiza, who has been help-
ing her.7 Only Torgeir Wethal vocalizes; this is the speech of his
character. Julia Varley works with playing cards. Iben dances with
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 79

Figure 2.1 Væksthus during rehearsals for The Chronic Life. Image: Odin
Teatret Archives.

Jan Ferslev. Actors pause to go to notebooks. Through all this, the

musicians are playing and practicing the songs from the perfor-
mance … A small guitar is played. Tage Larsen marks through a
score. Frans Winther plays the violin, Tage begins on the trumpet.
Roberta and Torgeir begin their scores; there is a ‘story’ evident in
both. Roberta’s character then sings along to the musicians. Iben
goes to join in the band. Eugenio Barba speaks to Julia. Words of
a song are given out. The group learns and practices this; Eugenio
makes changes and suggests where this should go in the perfor-
mance; Roberta doesn’t remove her mask during this. After this,
Torgeir and Roberta learn a Latin American dance (Roberta takes
off her mask); Ana helps. Iben tries her score again.

As can be seen, there is a range to the work undertaken: some

is improvisatory; some to do with the repetition of character or
80 Odin Teatret

performance scores developed earlier; some musical; and some skills

based. Some of the work presents the actors with a level of difficulty;
for example, the dance material is clearly new territory to those con-
cerned, which has to be learnt move by move, confirming how some
elements concern personal challenge and renewal. As it is all pinned
to developing possibilities in the performance, this training is really
a form of devising.
Barba observed all these sessions. As can be seen, he intervenes at
an individual or group level; this is a form of directing, but it is the
directing of preparations and potentials, not the performance per
se. The væksthus thus comprises a collection of training rhythms
that have a cohesion, yet are individually and collectively directed
towards a culture of performance development. There is a kind of
ethos in the room. No one calls the rehearsal to order; the actors just
begin and maintain a quiet focus to the work. Languages slip into
and out of each other. As in fiskedam training from earlier periods in
the Odin’s development, music binds all the activity together. The
collective training, here linked to the culture of a still-developing
performance, brings individual work into a mutual situation in
which paired or ensemble work can also take place.
Technical aspects can be reinforced during væksthus training, even
if in the context of rehearsal: for example, even after some 20 years at
Odin Teatret, I witnessed how Kai Bredholt worked on his height and
eye-line in a væksthus session during The Chronic Life rehearsals in
Wroclaw. These are technical issues concerning the actor’s presence,
though others worked on particular action sequences, which can be
understood as ‘training’ in that the actor learns and ingrains chains
of physical responses.
In her discussion with me, Nagel Rasmussen confirmed that she
no longer undertakes personal training, but was very happy to work
in the væksthus situation, as it provided a way to train without the
difficulties, both personal and organisational, which come with the
traditional type of solo training. Nagel Rasmussen also sees a strong
link between væksthus and Barba’s directing, explaining that during
Andersen’s Dream it had been impossible for Barba to see everything
and potentially include it in the performance (see Chapter 3); in the
set-up for The Chronic Life, though, ‘he will see things, he will recog-
nise things, he will know things’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). Although
Nagel Rasmussen said that she found the Wroclaw sessions less
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 81

stimulating as they had become more like self-rehearsal of more or

less fixed material, væksthus is a way for creative material to be avail-
able to Barba and reveals the extent to which he relies on the work
of the actors. Just as in the fiskedam he can ‘fish’ for what is useful,
so in the væksthus he can be a gardener.

Pedagogy

As a laboratory theatre, Odin Teatret has always centralised the

actor’s craft. Alongside performance activities, seminars and work-
shops have always been held, either at Holstebro or abroad, and con-
tinue regularly today. As well as disseminating research and training,
major workshops have provided income; a glance at official finan-
cial records (also sometimes posted on the Odin’s website) reveals
that approximately half the organisation’s income needs to be self-
generated. In addition, the Danish Ministry of Culture awards the
Odin an annual grant, but on the basis of its international research
and further education (since 1980, this has been augmented by a
regional theatre grant from the Municipality of Holstebro).8
Odin Teatret’s actors have always taught. As the group’s history
and ethos is so bound up with autodidacticism and pedagogy, it is
also reasonable to assume that certain approaches can be isolated in
order to teach them. Some actors hold long workshops in Holstebro;
for example, Larsen regularly holds a training programme that
explores the relationship between text and physical action, in which
participants develop their own dynamic and challenging ‘chain’ of
exercises, over which text is placed. Augosto Omolú has developed
a training out of his own orixá background, where different energy
qualities are used to develop the actor’s expressivity.9 The Odin’s
musicians have also begun to lead workshops that explore the pres-
ence and dramaturgy of the performer-musician.
Carreri has taken the development of her teaching very seriously,
consciously trying to improve how she works with others. Carreri
links her teaching to long experience; even if teaching sessions are
short and far from the durational apprenticeship that characterised
her own training, Carreri believes that ‘each time I do a workshop
I need all my experience … The workshop is a result of my meeting
these pupils now’ (Carreri, 1999, p. 3). Carreri suggests the foundation
of her own training – presence – must be maintained in the teaching
82 Odin Teatret

situation so that, as when performing, each moment is alive. Thus

Carreri explains that teaching was ‘a new form of training: to concen-
trate my attention on the work of another person for a long span of
time and identify myself with what happened in another body/mind’
(Carreri, 1999, p. 2). Pedagogically, this reveals a process that relies on
the somatic perception of another, out of which changes and correc-
tions can emerge; by ‘moving through the body of the pupil’ (Carreri,
1999, p. 4), Carreri links her own experience with the present condi-
tion of those in the learning situation (see Figure 2.2).
Optimally, teaching and learning is not then a one-way process
from teacher to pupil, since, as Carreri puts it, teaching ‘is a way for
me to make what I know my own by transmitting it’ (Carreri, 1999,
p. 1). Donald Kitt agrees, believing that

any one of us will tell you how much more you learn when you
teach. It comes from articulating clearly what a process can be
like. It’s like speaking to someone who doesn’t understand your
language; you search for another word or way of expressing

Figure 2.2 Roberta Carreri teaching at the 14th ISTA, Wroclaw and Krzyzowa.
Photo: Francesco Galli.
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 83

something. … When I began teaching I had to give exercises

a name. I had to break them down so the students could see
what was inside, due partially because of the time factor. … It
opened up a way of understanding for me that I hadn’t experi-
enced before. It was a joy to teach exercises over and over again
because I would discover the beautiful details of a movement.
And expressing a movement in a different speed, for example,
can release a new image or sensation that wasn’t seen before.
(Kitt, 2009)

Kitt draws attention to how training is a kind of language to be made

clear through practice as well as analysis and explanation, yet with
mutual benefits. As actors with Odin Teatret, to be able to articulate
the actor’s craft is reflexively to acknowledge and develop one’s own
condition.
The regular Odin Week Festivals are a particular way that the
group offers its training as well as performance work. Over around
nine days, sometimes twice yearly, the Odin performs its entire
repertoire, and the schedule includes seminars, meetings and work-
shops. As the publicity suggests, this is a time when participants
have ‘the opportunity of a full immersion in Odin Teatret’s diverse
fields of action’ (Odin Teatret, 2011f) through a sharing of its prac-
tice and ethos.
More recently, a similar organisational structure, but with increased
teaching and training, has been used to fuel the work on both Ur-
Hamlet and The Marriage of Medea (see Chapter 5). An international
workshop for around 50 participants, who pay a fee, is held, dur-
ing which training takes place and sequences of action are devel-
oped and integrated into the performance; the Odin actors offer
performances or work demonstrations, too, for the participants.
During The Marriage of Medea, the syllabus included performance
technique, strategies of street performance, intercultural training
and work on performance activities in the community. This is a
‘training’ in terms of the performer, the form or location of perfor-
mance and its cultural significance. According to Sally McGrane,
who observed rehearsals, Varley explained that to include this type
of pedagogic process in the development of the large-scale perfor-
mances is a way for Barba to reintroduce himself to actor training
(McGrane, 2008).
84 Odin Teatret

‘An unending school’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 96)

Although Barba no longer trains actors, the overriding emphasis at

Odin Teatret is that the actor’s work is an ongoing craft. Not least
because of Barba’s withdrawal from studio, the actors develop their
own training within the group context. Thus training is not just the
repetition of identifiable exercises, but concerns an evolution in how
work is undertaken and what it must serve for the actor. Training can
be compared to other somatic practices such as martial arts or yoga;
the point of these practices is that the practitioner has an ongoing
relationship with what is done, and it is this, rather than the form of
the practice, that brings results.
At Odin Teatret, training is based on imagination and physicality,
driven by questions that are closer to research or, in terms of making
performance material, a contemporary idea of devising. Training is
an altogether different proposition than acquiring a set of skills over
a specified period of time, in order to play a character in a particular
genre. It is grounded in an investigation of the actor’s bodymind
and presence. As well as the challenges offered by physical aspects
of training, the emphases of much contemporary voice teaching in
text-based theatre is reversed through the Odin’s vocal training too:
rather than beginning with a technical goal of filling a space and an
emphasis on connection to language with whatever degree of orga-
nicity, the Odin actors’ voices respond primarily to an idea, image
or impulse, and arrive at filling a space through a sound quality that
may have its source in something other than the semantic.
Over the history of Odin Teatret, it can be seen that training has
evolved from an acrobatic form that gives way to more personalised
‘chains’ of exercises, to something concerning a confrontation with
new artistic challenges linked primarily to the needs of a new per-
formance. On the other hand, the earlier form of training is the root
work that new recruits encounter. But given that many actors have
periodically stopped training, or ceased altogether, the first phases of
training can be seen to have some kind of conclusion, a sense that
the formation of the actor can come to a close. Whilst the funda-
mentals of training can be viewed as incorporated into the actor’s
existence, these may be needed in other ways when there is a return
to a basic use of the body and a renewed relationship to it. This
means that, in practice, continuous, long-term training does not take
 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret 85

place, although it is replaced with the different challenge of autono-

mously finding new stimuli, and creating new work and opportuni-
ties independently from the group’s needs and circumstances.
Legacy and transmission are vital components of the Odin’s work
and ethos. Some actors, such as Nagel Rasmussen and Carreri, place
their pedagogic work in a continuum with their own training and
performance experiences. Barba, too, has returned to a kind of train-
ing. Teaching and workshops, either on specific areas or as part of
the Odin Week Festival and recent, large-scale performance projects,
are thus seen as fundamental to immersing interested participants in
the reality of Odin’s work through practice. The very latest projects,
some of which are discussed in the Afterword, concern an approach
to training and performance development that in fact resists the
nature of the Odin as an institution and allows participants to create
their own work as a more or less separate enterprise.
Reflecting upon years of training, Barba writes: ‘unconsciously,
a sort of small dogma can grow: that training leads to the actor’s
artistic and ethical rebirth. And therefore a still more pernicious
dogma – that training can guarantee it’ (Barba, 2007, p. 3). Again, this
resists the mythology of training. In particular, to break clichés seems
never-ending, though a way of working found over a previous period
of training can, over a long time, itself become a cliché. Like others,
Carreri cites that the challenge due to ageing is how to change earlier
size, expansiveness and strength in performance to intensity, precision
and economy, but without stagnation.
Although training has developed considerably since the early
days of the group, its constant redefinition is an aspect that keeps
Odin Teatret’s work alive. Training is the potential point of entry into
Odin Teatret and those that have been invited to stay have had to
encounter it as a contingent aspect of their presence.
3
Performances

The Odin’s productions are now more diverse in terms of scale, form
and style than previously. This continues to refute an early criticism
that each performance and, by implication, Barba’s directorial choices,
were each too similar to the previous. At the time, Barba stated in
his defence in an interview that ‘if you use this criterion, then you
no longer have to read more than one James Joyce or Dostoyevsky
or look at more than one Cézanne’ (Barba, 1979, p. 27), going on to
draw attention to how similar themes and modes of expression may
be revisited throughout an artist’s output. Clearly, any company with
an emphasis on training (even if, as Chapter 2 explores, training has
shifted over the years), or which relies on improvisation, will inevita-
bly create links between its creative process and performance results.
This is true of the Odin’s contemporaries such as The Living Theatre,
as well as Grotowski’s work, of course, as it is for the many contem-
porary companies who devise work. However, if Torgeir Wethal’s
comments (Chapter 2) on the nature of the Ferai cast imply a direct
link between the extremely demanding nature of training at the time
and the austere, if admittedly brave and compelling extremis of that
production, there is today perhaps more room to create performance
styles that are not directly influenced by the physical demands of
training, but rather its varying qualities.
Despite the evident ethos of communitas in the Odin’s perfor-
mances, meaning is often difficult to pin down, as Watson also iden-
tifies (Watson, 1995, pp. 107–8). Narrative is rarely the object of the
productions. In discussion, the actors readily admit that hard-and-fast
meaning of either the production or, in some cases, the identity of

86
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
 Performances 87

their own characters is simply not established: in one of the many dis-
cussions held after rehearsals for The Chronic Life in Wroclaw (October
2010), Julia Varley asserted, ‘you are looking for meanings that are not
there’ (Odin Teatret, 2010a). But the score of a performance is con-
crete and, in contrast to Watson, I do not therefore resist discussion of
meaning or my own interpretation as a spectator where it might serve
to illuminate part of the production. I place this alongside factual ele-
ments such as staging choices or certain aspects of how a performance
was created.
It is in this chapter that discussion of Barba’s dramaturgical theo-
ries and directorial intervention can further be developed. Through
looking at the very latest performances, I also suggest that Odin
Teatret’s performance aesthetic has shifted. There is a notable ten-
dency towards biographical or autobiographical material, the past
and the poetics of nostalgia (by this I mean a retrospective valuing of
the past, not a regret for it) seen, for example, in Salt and Ester’s Book.
A richer scenographic aesthetic can also be seen, most recently evi-
dent in Mythos, Andersen’s Dream and Salt. I also discuss The Chronic
Life further, which premiered in September 2011.
Whilst trying to avoid purely anecdotal evidence, the chapter
will also note some instances of the reception of the performances.
Usefully, each production is individually ‘filed’ at the OTA, and
contents include press reviews, publicity materials and scholarly
opinion. I will also quote from the programmes of some of the per-
formances; many of these are downloadable from the Odin Teatret’s
website, in different languages, and some include the text for the
performance as well as articles.

Context and aesthetic

At the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century, Odin

Teatret maintains a repertoire of a dozen main performances, some
of which involve the ensemble, whilst others are particular partner-
ships between actors or solo pieces. Another type of performance
is the multicultural work, including Orô de Otelo (1994), which is
discussed separately in Chapter 5. Although the multicultural pro-
ductions are not officially part of Odin Teatret’s repertoire (though
have significant overlaps with it), they are grouped together under
‘productions’ on the Odin’s website, rather than as part of ISTA, so
88 Odin Teatret

are not seriously kept organisationally discrete. In addition, there are

some ten work demonstrations. By any comparison, this repertoire is
extensive. A key reason for the high number of performances is the
fact that Odin Teatret keeps a production in the repertoire for some
years, where it is added to by other projects. This long-term repertory
practice is familiar in some European countries, for example, though
not in the British–American theatre tradition.
In contrast to its earlier phase, there have been greater gaps in
Odin Teatret’s more recent ensemble performance output: Inside the
Skeleton of the Whale was produced in 1996 and Ode to Progress the fol-
lowing year, which, given the Odin’s slow rehearsal process, is pretty
intensive, even if Inside the Skeleton of the Whale uses older material
from Kaosmos and The Gospel According to Oxyrhincus. But some six
years ensued before Great Cities Under the Moon and Andersen’s Dream
(2003 and 2004 respectively). A break of several years occurred before
rehearsals for The Chronic Life began in 2008. Don Giovanni all’Inferno
has, so far, been produced in 2006 only.
As if to emphasise the importance of touring, most productions
can be performed in four languages to facilitate a wider market
(Danish, English, Italian and Spanish; some even more), though
technical information tends to be presented in English. This means
that, once a production has become established through an initial set
of performances, it is re-rehearsed in another language. Sustaining
the repertoire as well as taking pragmatic decisions as to when and
how to develop it thus characterise the performance schema, not the
production of regular new work.
In his discussion of the Odin’s productions up to Kaosmos (1993–6),
Watson usefully differentiates between indoor, studio-based work and
street theatre performances. Although it is interesting to note that the
intensity of the former and the exuberance of the latter are produced
by the same company and such categorisation can still offer, today,
a way to link up diverse outputs by a company rooted in training and
the action of the actor, the productions discussed in Watson’s study
(1995) no longer exist. Mythos, which was something of a hit at La
MaMa in New York in 1999 (see Baumrin, 2000) and reintroduced
the group to an enthusiastic audience, ceased in 2005. Andersen’s
Dream also finished in 2011, during the writing of this book. Street
theatre or outdoor performances like Anabasis are no longer really
produced: The Book of Dances ended in 1980, Anabasis in 1984, and
 Performances 89

the less well known Rooms in the Emperor’s Palace, a parade-based per-
formance, in 2000. However, the energy – and anarchy – of this type
of work remains in parades and the more recently termed ‘interven-
tions’, as well as events like the opening and closing of the Festuge,
or Kai Bredholt’s project at Bovbjerg lighthouse (see Chapter 4). Ode
to Progress, which is presentational and parade-like, is also sometimes
used in outdoor barters (see Chapter 4).
Whilst he is unquestionably the figure of authority at Odin Teatret,
Barba does not always have the root idea for a production, and is open
to outside influence. He continues to surround himself with wider
production personnel, technicians and aides. These latter ‘director’s
assistants’ provide feedback to Barba, as well as recording the work of
rehearsals, producing working texts and DVD records. This notation
is something the actors once had to undertake and, now, facilitates
the later montage style of work. In addition, there is dramaturgical
input; Thomas Bredsdorff has regularly advised as a dramaturg, as
well as Barba’s regular ‘literary adviser’, Nando Taviani.
Given the maturity of its actors, it is understandable that individu-
als have wished to pursue performance projects: Roberta Carreri and
Jan Ferslev instigated Salt and Iben Nagel Rasmussen developed Ester’s
Book, a performance where Barba is rather ambiguously credited as
‘scenic advisor’ since he saw no more than a couple of rehearsals. Julia
Varley, who maintains an especially prolific schedule of work within
and alongside that of Odin Teatret, as well as her own writing (the Odin
Teatret Archives keeps a separate bibliography of her work), has, to date,
a personal repertoire of two solo performances (Castle of Holstebro II and
Doña Musica’s Butterflies), three solo work demonstrations, and, now,
the short performance Killing Time as her ‘Mr Peanut’ figure. Varley’s
latest performance Ave Maria was shown as a work in progress piece in
2011 and will be ready for 2012. In various combinations, this portfolio
allows Varley to offer a ‘package’ of pedagogic and performance mate-
rial during her various tours, often in partnership with Barba.
Barba has been criticised for a less than explicit political stance in
his shaping of productions (see, for example, Watson, 1995, p. 107),
though he has never said that he wishes to make political theatre per
se. But there is a clear political slant to Great Cities Under the Moon
and within The Chronic Life, though these themes tend to evoke
globalisation and the effects of imperialism, rather than particular
ideologies.
90 Odin Teatret

Compared to older performances – especially the pared-down stag-

ing and sheer physicality of Ferai, the performance that first brought
the younger Odin significant international attention – shifts in Odin
Teatret’s current performance aesthetic are evident. The critic Jørgen
Anton, who followed rehearsals for Andersen’s Dream and has known
Odin Teatret since its early days, reflects that ‘technique [meaning
technical aspects] plays an ever-greater part in Odin Teatret’s perfor-
mances and present day productions exploit theatrical possibilities
to an extent which is light years away from the corporal expression
prevalent in the mid sixties. There was a time when a performance
could be transported in a couple of suitcases and a box for the lighting
equipment’ (Anton, 2004, p. 38). Although the final point is not abso-
lutely true, since the early productions still incorporated a fair amount
of props, costume and musical instruments, Anton’s informed judge-
ment attests to both the growth in the company and the augmenta-
tion of its productions’ visual or scenographic elements.
In contrast to this expansion of theatrical means, there has been
a reduction in the number and scope of ensemble productions. This
also exemplifies the actors’ ability to create solo work or instigate
performances with one or two colleagues. A significant development
occurred when Roberta Carreri produced Judith, Odin Teatret’s first
solo production, still in the repertoire some 25 years later and now
the oldest performance.
Apart from the unprecedented scale of Andersen’s Dream, recent
ensemble performances have tended to be based on extant material,
redeveloped into new productions: as well as the example of Inside
the Skeleton of the Whale, Great Cities Under the Moon was reworked
from the older Brecht’s Ashes. Ode to Progress also uses the Odin actors’
stock characters, which had already appeared in other contexts. Don
Giovanni all’Inferno uses material from Mythos.
There is now a notable tendency towards personal material.
Biographical material has been used before as the basis for perfor-
mance development: for example, Itsi Bitsi is autobiographical and,
since it is centred on the same actor, Iben Nagel Rasmussen, can
be seen as a forerunner to the biographical territory of Ester’s Book.
Barba’s autobiography is also the basis for the beginning of The
Chronic Life. The past and, especially, the poetics of nostalgia are
overtly acknowledged as an imperative in the development of Salt;
unlike Odin Teatret’s more impressionistic work, there is also a fairly
 Performances 91

delineated story in this production. Here, too, a richer scenographic

aesthetic than some of the older productions is obvious, especially
since some of the physical material is based on paintings (as the
accompanying work demonstration, Letter to the Wind, shows).
Perhaps the most ambitious scenographic project has been Andersen’s
Dream, created in collaboration with the architect Luca Ruzza, who
also created the set for The Gospel According to Oxyrhincus. Andersen’s
Dream involved an integrated auditorium that included audience
seating, flying, snowfall, puppets and mannequins, and a complex
get-in period of over three days.
In stark contrast to the richness of Andersen’s Dream, some per-
formances now are simple in their staging and clearly less physical
than in previous years: the actors spend much of their time sitting
in Great Cities Under the Moon, something almost unimaginable when
the physicality of the very early films is seen. Ester’s Book is sedentary,
contemplative and powerfully still. Further, the tendency towards
mythic themes is less prevalent in the later work: Andersen’s Dream
is based on an exploration of the world of Hans Christian Andersen
and, even though the performance has elements that are ambiguous
and disturbing, Ode to Progress is funny, as are sequences in many
productions, especially Killing Time.

Links

As a way to begin a discussion of the performances, I link several

productions that have emerged out of each other and share com-
mon elements. The latest performance serves as a place to start and
involves one of Odin Teatret’s most recognisable characters.
Mr Peanut is one of the Odin’s archetypal characters, seen in various
productions, barters and street performances (see Figure 3.1). Varley
inherited the figure from the actor Tom Fjordefalk (with the Odin
1974–80) and devotes a long section of her book (Varley, 2011a) to
her adventures with this quirky character, with its skeleton head and,
most usually, smart tailcoat. Sometimes, Varley performs as Mr Peanut
on stilts; at other times, Mr Peanut is dressed in white, as a bride, or in
red, as kind of housewife figure. In Ode to Progress, Mr Peanut appears as
both man and woman in black and white.
Mr Peanut now has his own performance, Killing Time (2009).
This short performance, some 17 minutes long, shows fragments
92 Odin Teatret

Figure 3.1 Mr Peanut in white, Holstebro Festuge 2008. Photo: Adam J.

Ledger.

of Mr Peanut’s life and was originally conceived as a kind of inter-

mezzo for a theatre festival in Rome. It may develop into a longer
or even different performance, but, for now, Mr Peanut appears
in his black, white and red guise, which offers a basic structure
to the piece. There is no text, but the action takes place to music:
for example, Mr Peanut reads the newspaper, hangs out washing
and cares for a skeleton baby, all timed to the soundtrack. This
creates the visual humour of the piece (at one point, the baby’s
cradle is suspended from the washing line), where, according to
the performance description, ‘time passes with the speed of a string
unravelling and the child that played in the morning, is no longer
 Performances 93

recognisable in the evening (Odin Teatret, 2011d). The inevitability

of death, a theme that emerges in many of Odin Teatret’s perfor-
mances, haunts even this skeleton figure.
It is, however, Varley’s relationship to Mr Peanut that forms the
central theme to The Castle of Holstebro II (so called as the original
version was performed up to 1997 and the second from 1999). At
times, Varley, dressed in white herself, performs alone, and at other
times as her alter ego. The link between Varley and her most well-
known character is treated as if it were a kind of marriage or love
affair; the emblematic white dress Varley wears, as if a sort of princess
in Mr Peanut’s Danish castle, is hardly accidental. But this pseudo
fairy tale is not always treated reverently: at one point, Mr Peanut
sings The Rose, screeching out its saccharine lyrics (‘some say love,
it is a river …’)1 in his grating voice, ironically mocking his relation-
ship with the woman in white. But Varley and Mr Peanut manage to
dance together, and, finally, Varley cradles the skeleton-headed torso
as if it were a baby.
Connection and division, centred not just on actor/character iden-
tity but also gender, is queried in the performance, since, as Varley
says in the production, ‘if they see beard and moustache, they call it
man. If they see long hair and breasts, they call it woman. But look!
The soul inside is neither man nor woman’ (Odin Teatret, 2011g).
Because the actor and character are centred on the same person, of
course, the performance particularly exploits this overlap. For Varley,
Mr Peanut ‘has been the identity behind which I could both reveal
and hide myself. In The Castle of Holstebro I chose Mr Peanut once
again to speak for me. He asks questions, thinks, and tells secrets
out loud. In this way, through him, I dialogue with myself’ (Varley,
2011a, p. 107). The figure operates as a kind of mask for Varley; para-
doxically, she reveals herself through this strong character. But it is
in Doña Musica’s Butterflies, dealt with in the next section, that Varley
plays out this interest in identity without the help of her long-time
companion.

Inside the Skeleton of the Whale, Ode to Progress and Doña

Musica’s Butterflies
Odin Teatret’s production Kaosmos, based in part on Kafka’s tale,
‘Before the Law’, was, like Andersen’s Dream, ‘buried’ or ‘shipwrecked’
a year after its last performance in 1996. Barba contrived a special
94 Odin Teatret

occasion for this event, out of which Inside the Skeleton of the Whale
(1996) emerged as, perhaps, a kind of accident, and would also lead
to Doña Musica’s Butterflies (1997) and Ode to Progress (1997).
For the ‘burial’ of Kaosmos, friends of Odin Teatret were invited to
a dinner in the White Room and were seated at two rows of tables,
inside which the actors performed Kaosmos. However, the actors
wore everyday clothes and worked without props, lit only by the
candles on the tables. As Iben Nagel Rasmussen ruefully writes of the
aftermath of the occasion:

not many days passed before Eugenio, and who knows which
devil’s advocate, decided that the whole thing had been such a
success and that our physical scores were so interesting without
the costumes, that we could surely get at least one, maybe even
two new productions out of the material. And so we did, with
much ado and many protestations on our part. ‘But now we have
them’, as Eugenio says: Ode to Progress and Inside the Skeleton of
the Whale. Two phoenixes from the same ashes – not bad! (Nagel
Rasmussen, 2008, Part IV, p. 42, original emphasis)

One of these ‘phoenixes’, Inside the Skeleton of the Whale, incorpo-

rates the physical score of Kaosmos and the spoken text of The Gospel
According to Oxyrhincus, though not in the collection of archaic
languages of the original performance. In terms of scale, it is the
opposite of Andersen’s Dream’s lavishness. Ode to Progress also uses
some of Kaosmos’s material, and Doña Musica’s Butterflies allows one
of Kaosmos’s characters an independent life.
Emerging from the original experiment, Inside the Skeleton of the
Whale is, according to Barba, the possibility of ‘simultaneity and
contiguity to its extreme’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 104). Overall, a new
performance dynamic has been created out of the combination of
pre-existing material as sheer action, resulting in ‘a mysterious effec-
tiveness and a capacity to produce meanings’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 105).
Seven of the original nine actors in Kaosmos took part in Inside the
Skeleton of the Whale, but an eighth, Tage Larsen, who rejoined Odin
Teatret in 1997, was added.
At times, the actors behave as if an absent partner is still present,
though Larsen moves through the performance as a kind of observer,
exploiting his ability with hand props by manipulating a piece of
 Performances 95

wood into various ‘objects’: ‘a lectern, a book, a stool, a comb, the

bow of a violin …’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 104). Barba is aware, though,
that ‘success depends on the living roots which the scenic materi-
als have developed in the body-mind of the single actors (Barba,
2010a, p. 105). Associations, meanings and action may well emerge
through chance encounters, but the actors must be aligned to the
internalised imagery of the extant material, even if it is now placed
in a new situation.
The scenic arrangement of the performance helps to create the
formality of ritual. Spectators are seated at two, opposite banks
of tables, covered with smart tablecloths, on which are bottles of
wine, glasses, bread and olives. We could be at a celebratory meal,
or inside – or perhaps we form – the sides of the ‘whale’ from where
we observe the ‘ritual’ of the actors’ performance. Given the origin
of the performance as a ‘burial’, spectators could be at a Last Supper;
it is not insignificant that, during and after the performance, the
spectators break bread. Inside the Skeleton of the Whale also begins in
silence, when Barba and an assistant slowly move down the line of
spectators filling wine glasses. They make a point of smiling to each
spectator. This process takes some time and creates an atmosphere
of concentration. At the end of the performance, it takes a while for
spectators to interact with one another, though the actors also return
to drink and talk. Thus the ‘ritual’ of Inside the Skeleton of the Whale
can be filled with collected, though individual, imaginations and a
sense of communitas (see Figure 3.2).
Jane Turner links Inside the Skeleton of the Whale directly with
Barba’s notion of the ‘empty ritual’. Despite the term, Barba writes
that theatre is an ‘empty ritual’, ‘not because it is futile and senseless,
but because it is not usurped by doctrine’ (Watson, 2002, p. 255). In
other words, the ritual is not an enactment on the terms of a context
of ideology, nor is it futile since it concerns the reality of a set of
spectators and actors. The performance must work on a dynamic,
sensorial level: for example, Roberta Carreri has a section in Italian,
after which there is silence, then an eruption of song and movement;
at another, Kai Bredholt careers down the entire length of the per-
formance space, zigzagging with his accordion. Devoid of previous
context, spectators are confronted with simultaneously prior and
present meaning, and actors who play with the directness of their
real and fictional presence.
96 Odin Teatret

Figure 3.2 Inside the Skeleton of the Whale. Photo: Francesco Galli.

Inside the Skeleton of the Whale is, for me, the production that
most clearly makes sense of some of Barba’s writing. The perfor-
mance is deceptively simple with, as Barba describes, ‘only Kaosmos’s
organic dramaturgy, the designs of all the actors’ actions and songs’
(Barba, 2010a, p. 104). In this performance, the dramaturgy is, more
than anywhere else, the ‘simple’ enactment of scores and actions.
Particularly on those occasions when the number of spectators is
increased, spectators also cannot take in everything in their indi-
vidual field of vision. The action must be perceived from a multitude
of angles and the presence of the opposite bank of spectators is incor-
porated from the start (I have been present at performances when
more chairs and tables have been added, increasing the length of
the ‘river’, and also when a second row of chairs has been included,
increasing this aspect). The spectators therefore engage with the
animal energy of the actors and the actuality of their scenic bios, set
within the ‘space river’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 46) of performance.
Although stemming from the same source material, the solo perfor-
mance Doña Musica’s Butterflies is much stiller and more contempla-
tive than the complex weave of action that forms Inside the Skeleton of
 Performances 97

the Whale. Julia Varley allows her character in Kaosmos, Doña Musica,
to become the protagonist of the performance in which Doña Musica
speaks of her relationship with the actor, Julia. Rather than reprising
text from Kaosmos, as Varley does in Inside the Skeleton of the Whale,
some is taken from Varley’s novel, Wind in the West (Varley, 1997).
The performance’s existential themes or threads also draw on frag-
ments of physics and include the imagery of butterflies, which Varley
creates out of paper and cloth.
As Varley often tours this piece with her work demonstrations, the
set is very simple: a circle of cloth defines the performance space,
in which flowers are placed, and which hides the electric cable that
powers the production’s integral, portable lights. At the rear, Varley
has a kind of dressing table, on which are props. Her appearance is
dramatic; Varley has the black costume and long, white wig from
Kaosmos, a decision that Doña Musica explains in the performance:
‘one day she got dressed and made her face up with grey and white to
surprise the director. She wanted him to see again his grandmother
with her long loose white hair, that image of little girl and old lady
that he had described in his book The Paper Canoe’ (Varley, 2011a,
p. 111). This internal, self-referential content appears in other pro-
ductions, not least those I discuss here, but in this case stems from
the character-based aspect of the original performance.
Despite the fictional conceit of Doña Musica’s Butterflies, there is
no plot, which seems to have perplexed some spectators. As Baumrin
writes in his review of a performance during the tour to La MaMa,
New York in 1999, ‘the spectators’ expectations of theatrical fiction
were frustrated as Doña Musica described how a character contrived
to create her own performance out of a restlessness with unre-
solved issues stemming from her creation in an earlier performance
(Baumrin, 2000, p. 412). The performance becomes, then, a kind
of existential meditation on the nature of a character and being,
during which Varley also dances and delivers text in what Baumrin
describes as ‘a wavering operatic oratorio manqué’ (Baumrin, 2000,
p. 412). Although it is not without Varley’s humour, often harder to
find in her thoughtful and serious work demonstrations, this adds
to the sense of oddness of the performance, which concludes with
Doña Musica’s musing that ‘I am Doña Musica and I am not. I am the
actress and I am not. I am Julia and I am not. I am and am not. I go
forwards and backwards in time, just like those particles which leap
98 Odin Teatret

and dance in an atom’ (Varley, 2011a, p. 114). Here, the character

is caught in a kind of limbo that cannot resolve itself until Varley
strikingly divests herself of costume and make-up, revealing ‘herself’
as an actor.
Ode to Progress is termed a ‘ballet’ or a ‘carnival’. It is the most
simple of Odin’s productions in terms of set-up. The actors enter one
by one and form a line upstage with a set of instruments. The pre-
sentation of this motley collection of characters immediately sets up
a kind of zany humour as each figure outdoes the previous. Larsen,
who reappears later as a hunter, is at first a medieval monk, with
a whip; Mr Peanut appears; Bredholt is in his white bear costume,
Otto; Ferslev is ‘Doggy’, a figure in tails like Mr Peanut but with a dog
skull on a bony neck for a head; Winther is blind, but is led to the
keyboard to play; Nagel Rasmussen is Trickster from Talabot; Omolú
is ‘The Queen of Saba’; and Carreri is her clown figure, Geronimo.
This means that all of the actors are masked in some way, augment-
ing the presentational style, in which only some of the actors can
speak (the original text of the performance, running at less than two
pages, gives text for Wethal, Carreri and Nagel Rasmussen only).
The performance centres on how each character presents itself
through a ‘dance’, punctuated by songs and knockabout humour.
The group are conceived as huldrefolk, imaginary elf or troll-like
figures, who create the anarchy of ‘the Carnival of a foreign country,
distant yet close. The actors in this Carnival are the emissaries of
a hidden people’ (Odin Teatret, 2011e). Fragments of older scenes
and material are performed, punctuated by dances, which Baumrin
describes as ‘not recognizable as specific dance genres, they were a
kind of formalistic improvisation’ (Baumrin, 2000, p. 410). The per-
formance thus recalls a troupe of travelling actors from a former age
entering a town. Ode to Progress is often used as outdoor performance
material therefore, especially in barters (see Chapter 4), and can be
performed in six languages.
Although the performance has been ‘elaborated’ considerably
from its source, Ode to Progress is rooted in Kaosmos. Ferslev’s ‘Doggy’
figure uses scores from his earlier ‘chimney sweeper’ role in Kaosmos.
Others are older; for example, Nagel Rasmussen has a sequence with
a red thread as Trickster, which is taken from Talabot. As with Great
Cities Under the Moon, Larsen’s material was added later, and Omolú’s
after that.2 But despite its carnivalesque aesthetic, there is a sense
 Performances 99

that progress comes at a price. Whilst its themes appear to centre on

human effort and progress, Winther is not ‘shot’ by Larsen because
he hands over his wallet. Trickster can only feed a baby with a breast
full of sand, a sequence that culminates in a song that seems to
express the hopelessness of endeavour.
The evolution of Kaosmos into three performances demonstrates
the practice of elaboration beyond the single actor’s score to, instead,
a set of further performances. Doña Musica’s Butterflies and Kaosmos
particularly make a narrative sense in relation to each other since
they concern a character who speaks of her fictional world. Although
there is something of an exercise about Inside the Skeleton of the Whale,
it exposes the Odin Teatret’s technical virtuosity as a ‘skeleton’ to be
engaged with through its affective force of presence. Ode to Progress
will only make ‘sense’ in terms of its wider history to those that are
familiar with some of the stock characters in the performance and
perhaps the older scores, but it is a particularly flexible production.
Taken together, these performances demonstrate how Odin Teatret
allows older work to have another life in performance through the
elaboration and re-elaboration of material. Whilst there is a kind of
performative reflexivity in this, it also demonstrates how character
and material is not confined to the limits of a single production.

Great Cities Under the Moon

Great Cities Under the Moon is another ensemble piece that was devel-
oped from an older performance. During the 2000 ISTA in Bielefeld,
Germany, the Odin was asked to take part in a barter at a psychiatric
hospital, where the patients were performing a version of Brecht’s
Threepenny Opera. The actors found a way to present songs and frag-
ments of basic action from Brecht’s Ashes, a performance that had
not been in the repertoire for nearly 20 years. This structure was
subsequently developed. Donald Kitt was most recently introduced
into the performance to portray a soldier who recounts how he sees
action in a number of war zones. Mia Theil Have appeared in the
performance for a time before leaving Odin Teatret.3
The form of Great Cities Under the Moon is particularly important
when compared to other performances: the actors are seated and stand
only for particular sections, which Barba explains was a deliberate
constraint (Barba, 2010a, p. 55). The simple action takes place in front
of the semicircle of actors and musicians in an end-on arrangement
100 Odin Teatret

(Figure 3.3). There is no set as such, just musical instruments and key
objects such as a clock, an umbrella, a broom and a photograph. An
additional benefit of Great Cities Under the Moon is that it can also be
toured as a comparatively economic ensemble piece.
The actors in Great Cities Under the Moon operate as ‘neutral’ per-
formers who sing and deliver text. As well as material from Brecht,
other texts are drawn from Ezra Pound and Jens Bjørneboe (who com-
mitted suicide in 1976 after announcing his death on television, and,
the reader may recall, on whose play the Odin’s first performance,
Ornitofilene, was based). The idea of this Brechtian ‘concert’ is that
‘the moon observes and glides over the burning cities below … Her
voice is mocking or amazed, indifferent or painful, cold or incandes-
cent. Her compassion knows no melancholy, no solace’ (Odin Teatret,
2011j). Whilst this conceit seems typical of the poetry and metaphor
of the Odin’s performance work, Great Cities Under the Moon is con-
temporaneous in that it seeks to evoke the smallness of the world in
an era of globalisation.
At times the theme shifts to collective responsibility and indifference;
in the original version, Torgeir Wethal stated: ‘but none of this is our

Figure 3.3 Great Cities Under the Moon. Photo: Tony D’Urso.
 Performances 101

business. Let’s take refuge in a delusion of peace’ (Great Cities Under the
Moon). Yet the performance remains about hope, especially since the
apparent simplicity of the performance aims to suggest something on a
greater scale. A very positive review of a performance in Spain finds:

what is slightly unexpected is that this universal and almost stale

discourse – Afghanistan, Iraq, the atomic bomb – spoken by the …
actors facing the audience, does not fall into rhetoric and, much
less, into banality. The desolation of the panorama on display is
set against the great hope of a work well done, of a shared rite, of
attentiveness to the public and between the actors themselves. …
(Gómez, 2008)

The review picks up the shared nature of the performance; it is not

just about the interconnectedness of humanity, but manages to
become a kind of mutual action, a meaningful event in itself. As well
as a reliance on the potential to evoke further reflections or associa-
tions, there is also, throughout the performance, a technical point
that the actors maintain eye contact with the audience, which resists
any separation of performers and spectator as the mutual gaze holds
the work in the present.
On occasion, the action slips into parts of the older performance,
but this is contextualised; for example, Nagel Rasmussen dresses as
Kattrin from Brecht’s Ashes and begins to perform a sequence from
that production, but then pauses to explain who the character is.
The ‘rape’ scene from Brecht’s Ashes is reproduced; a goldfish bowl is
placed between Nagel Rasmussen’s legs and Larsen sings ‘Mack the
Knife’. Yet this interweaving of recycled parts of older performances,
linked with the production’s own text and song, is frequently under-
cut by the detached, ironic style of performance. Earlier, Larsen says
to Carreri, ‘I can’t stand all this misery any more. Yvette, sing us
something really sentimental’ (Great Cities Under the Moon); Carreri
moves into her song as Yvette from Brecht’s Ashes.
At times, nostalgia surfaces; this often comes from particular sto-
ries, which, in Julia Varley’s case, is fable-like text underscored by
swelling music. Much action is playful, however: Carreri tidies up the
stage, using the broom in a kind of cheeky song and dance routine,
and sweeps a heap of ashes into the form of a swastika. Later, all the
actors mime getting onto a boat, punted along by Varley’s zany boat
102 Odin Teatret

owner. Right at the end, Augusto Omolú unexpectedly appears in

a vaudeville dance. Yet Great Cities Under the Moon is not a piece of
great physicality or virtuosic skill, but simple action, the straightfor-
wardness of text and the effectiveness of song in close harmony. The
performance succeeds in drawing together related strands concern-
ing the common nature of mankind, since ‘all countries are an exile;
the world is a country. The great cities under the moon are all the
same’ (Great Cities Under the Moon).

Solo and smaller cast performances: Judith, Itsi Bitsi,

Ester’s Book and Salt

Roberta Carreri conceived her solo performance Judith (1987), the

first solo Odin Teatret production, as a means to keep touring away
from the main ensemble once her daughter, Alice, began school. At
the time, Carreri arranged to tour for one week per month.
The presence and skill of a seasoned actor has become a central quality
to this enduring performance. When I encountered Judith, which is per-
formed only in Italian, Carreri had been performing the piece for some
22 years. Coupled with its clear, visual choices in staging and the use of
continuous music throughout, Judith exudes an exoticism founded on
the actor’s control and the sensuousness of the soundtrack.
Christoffersen includes a section on Judith in The Actor’s Way
(Christoffersen, 1993), though this material appeared a little earlier
as an article (Carreri, 1991), extracted from the Danish original of
Christoffersen’s book (Christoffersen, 1989a). Christoffersen provides a
detailed scenario in the article, but also suggests the dramatic fluidity of
the performance, in which ‘the actress tells the story, but also becomes
possessed by it, possessed by Judith. The course of the action is a stream
of consciousness … At one moment she is Judith thinking back to what
has happened, at the next she is the subject of what has happened’
(Carreri, 1991, p. 146). Exe Christoffersen hints at the dream-like qual-
ity of the performance, which, despite its strong and simple aesthetic,
gives the actor room for manoeuvre in relation to the narrative.
Not least to accommodate solo touring, the set is simple: a cloth is
hung upstage, with a bonsai tree at its base. To stage left, there is a
white deckchair and a matching basket, which contains some of the
simple props used in the performance. Downstage, wrapped in cloth,
is what is revealed later as the head of Holfernes; this is a wooden
 Performances 103

sculpture made by I Wayan Sukarya. This simple, clearly thought out

scenography is lit by only one lantern, placed downstage at floor
level, which Carreri operates herself.
Carreri’s continued strength of presence in Judith has its roots in her
training. As well as the impact of her experiences at ISTA (as I explore
in Chapter 5), Carreri speaks of how she began consciously to control
flows of energy in her body, bringing a new kind of concentration to
her work. She explains: ‘I constantly had to force myself to control
my body … at first one became enormously tired from doing it – not
physically, but mentally’ (Carreri, 1991, p. 138). But when Carreri
started to experiment with limitation and control when using a
chair, which appears in Judith, the beginnings of a character, situ-
ation and place began to form out of this practical activity. Carreri
calls this the creation of ‘pictures’ (Carreri, 1991, p 141).
Carreri also ends her work demonstration, Traces in the Snow,
with the first sequence of Judith in order to exemplify how aspects
worked on in training can be used in performance. Here, she wakes
and recounts the biblical version of Judith’s story. Carreri uses ‘close
ups’, achieved by lowering the eye-line so that spectators are made
to look at a particular body part, in this case Carreri’s hand and arm.
Working with Eugenio Barba, material was added to these and other
physical possibilities, as well as further stories and paintings of Mary
Magdalene and Salome, but gave way to the story of Judith and her
relationship with Holfernes.
The pictorial awareness and technical skill that informs the perfor-
mance creates a ‘total theatre’ that, nevertheless, can at times hold
the performance in one dynamic. The quality of the performance
is also defined rhythmically by the rich, evocative and continuous
soundtrack. Sometimes, inventiveness can dominate the forward
movement of the action: for example a sequence when a pair of hair
combs become claws, wings and so on. Nevertheless, Judith is founded
on the resilience of a senior actor, resulting in an enduring produc-
tion that, with no attempt at, or allusion to, historical style, remains
an especially strong exploration of the female and the feminine.
Itsi Bitsi concerns Iben Nagel Rasmussen’s relationship with Eik
Skaløe, the first beat poet and singer to write in Danish. ‘Itsi Bitsi’
was Skaløe’s nickname for Nagel Rasmussen. This period in Nagel
Rasmussen’s life, before she joined Odin Teatret, was characterised
by her involvement in drugs, a major theme of the piece. The
104 Odin Teatret

performance also involves Jan Ferslev and Kai Bredholt, who play
unidentified figures in smart black suits and sunglasses, who accom-
pany Nagel Rasmussen on guitar and accordion, and intervene in the
action. The performance has been very successful, garnering Nagel
Rasmussen the Danish Håbets Pris (the ‘Prize of Hope’) in 1991,
reflecting the power of her central role. The performance is dedicated
to Skaløe, who was found dead in India in 1968.
The text was written by Nagel Rasmussen (see Andreasen and
Kuhlmann, 2000), but adapted by Barba (the first draft can be seen
online, as mentioned in the Introduction). The staging is simple:
a circle of light defines the performance space, and a large wooden
box, which is shifted around and used as needed, is the main object.
Despite the deceptively simple performance, which exploits Nagel
Rasmussen’s versatility and physicality, Barba uses Itsi Bitsi as an
example of how error can be an ultimately positive strategy. Writing
of the performance’s development, Barba describes how ‘it will be
Oedipus at Colonus, I declared … Iben was sceptical and confided her
doubts to me. I continued for a long time with the Greek myth until
I understood the direction in which the error was taking me’ (Barba,
2010a, p. 20). The ‘error’ of Itsi Bitsi resulted, instead, in a simultane-
ously professional and personal autobiography.
The performance’s autobiographical concerns also extend to the
personal history of the other two performers: Bredholt tells of how
he became a boat builder and learnt the accordion. Ferslev begins the
performance, recounting his own life in the 1960s and the alterna-
tive music scene of the time, during which he saw Skaløe perform.
This narrative (which also opens Ferslev’s work demonstration, Quasi
Orpheus) frames what follows: we are introduced to the performance’s
theme and in fact first encounter Nagel Rasmussen as Trickster,
rather than through any direct address to spectators as herself.
Unlike Ester’s Book, the central strategy to Itsi Bitsi is how theatre,
and Nagel Rasmussen’s performances in particular, can be analogous
to the particular life experiences recounted in the performance. For
example, the shaman figure from Come! And the Day Will be Ours
(1976–80) has a ‘vision’ of Skaløe, when

the sun mirrors itself in the moon. Your face is far, far away. In the
long nights I relive our travels. The travels of our thoughts and our
bodies. The places we met and the places we left. I should have
 Performances 105

been strong enough to have accepted your wild gestures. I should

have been a thousand persons, but was only one and even that
one was split. I should have been as close as a whisper to you that
day … (Itsi Bitsi)

This blurs the actor and the character, as if Nagel Rasmussen speaks
to the past and the dead through the shaman, a figure who can warp
time and speak to other worlds.
Elsewhere, Nagel Rasmussen’s account of her performance as the
mute Kattrin in Brecht’s Ashes mirrors her own ‘muteness’ when first
joining Odin Teatret. Near the conclusion to the performance, Nagel
Rasmussen wonders, ‘since I, as an actor, started to feel myself as a
whole, I apparently lost the ability to speak. Was that the price I had
to pay to find my own language?’ (Itsi Bitsi). Despite her long work
on voice, this reveals Nagel Rasmussen’s troubled relationship with
speech, something she describes in the solo performance White as
Jasmine, too.
The performance is especially clear and strong visually. Nearly all
of Nagel Rasmussen’s text is allied to dynamic score material, and
one long sequence uses a blindfold with long pieces of cloth that
allow Ferslev to ‘control’ Nagel Rasmussen during her own story:

We were heading towards a new open society. Away with weap-

ons. Forward with fellowship and warmth in the community.
The post-war political ice was melting. We were so many and we
breathed and breathed on that glacier to help it give birth. And
it did give birth – to the flower children, to folk music, to beat
music, to new ways of dressing, to new words. (Itsi Bitsi)

The physicality is in stark contrast to the apparent ethos of liberation

contained in the text.
Snow, made of paper, is a particular motif in the performance.
It is scattered from a large, upturned umbrella, harnessed to Nagel
Rasmussen’s Trickster costume as Ferslev sings. This is reprised at the
end. Most poignantly, the paper snow represents drugs; Ferslev and
Bredholt’s dialogue runs:

JAN: Do you know what this is?

KAI: That’s snow.
106 Odin Teatret

JAN: No, it’s paper. Do you know what this is?

KAI: That’s paper.
JAN: No, it is snow. Do you know what snow is?
KAI: It’s something white that falls down from the sky.
JAN: No, it’s something white that sends you up to the sky. (Itsi Bitsi)

Although this elliptical dialogue concerns drugs, snow, more poi-

gnantly, is mentioned when Skaløe’s death is recounted. The perfor-
mance ends with Nagel Rasmussen scattering snow over the stage
with the upturned umbrella, with which she covers the stage lantern.
As if to emphasise the conclusion to this part of Nagel Rasmussen’s
life, the final stage direction reads ‘the sun reddens’ (Itsi Bitsi).
Compared to Odin Teatret’s other productions, Ester’s Book (2005)
is still, contemplative and simple in its staging. It is performed by
Iben Nagel Rasmussen accompanied by a musician. When I first saw
the production, its style came as quite a surprise given Odin Teatret’s
physical tradition.
Ester’s Book concerns Nagel Rasmussen’s mother, Ester, a writer,
who died in 2005. The piece traces Ester’s past, the war years, the
birth of her daughter Iben, and her decline into severe dementia.
Nagel Rasmussen is accompanied on the violin by Anne Stigsgaard
or Uta Motz in the Danish or English version, and Elena Floris in
the Italian. The violinist intervenes with her own dialogue as ‘Iben’.
Although co-produced with Italian partners, Ester’s Book has often
toured locally in Denmark given its subject matter, for example at the
Kulturfestival Mørket in 2009, and sometimes at Holstebro library.
Nagel Rasmussen has a history of independent and self-generated
work: as discussed earlier, she was the instigator of new forms of train-
ing and led the Farfa group and, now, the Bridge of Winds project. Her
performance Marriage With God (1984–90), with César Brie, can be seen
as something of a forerunner to Ester’s Book. Although it is much more
physical, there was a similar simplicity in that production to what
Nagel Rasmussen envisaged for Ester’s Book; as Nagel Rasmussen puts
it, ‘you can hear the silence in the performance’ (Nagel Rasmussen,
2010). But even though she makes montages out of the material cre-
ated by the Bridge of Winds performers, Nagel Rasmussen acknowl-
edges that she is not a director, or certainly not a director like Barba,
and conceived of the performance quite differently to how previous
work with Odin Teatret has previously been made.
 Performances 107

The style of the performance seems driven by a desire to preserve

the integrity of the personal source material. Nagel Rasmussen drew
on several of her mother’s books, collectively The Book of the Seed,
which she had initially encouraged her mother to publish. These
books deal with memories, especially of wartime Denmark. Nagel
Rasmussen added verbatim passages of dialogue to extracts from the
books as the basis for a performance. The dialogue is not augmented,
since, as Nagel Rasmussen describes, she decided that ‘I should let
my mother speak … it’s really what she said and how she forgot
and repeated’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). Film and photographs are
also projected in the performance, which are drawn from family
albums and her father’s 8mm footage. More personally, old home
movies of the child Iben and her brother Tom appear. The perfor-
mance begins, though, with contemporary video of Ester’s funeral,
a simple, dignified occasion, and ends with shots of Ester in and
around Odin Teatret’s ‘Pavilion’ building, where she lived for a while.
Taken together, this is poignant, personal material, which is allowed
a power through its directness. As Nagel Rasmussen puts it, the aim
is ‘to let things speak for themselves’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010).
The production was first presented as a set of fragments at Teatro
Ridotto in Bologna, Italy in 2003 and then at the 2004 Transit
Festival in Holstebro. Nagel Rasmussen reveals that the decision to
complete the performance dates from her mother’s move to a rest
home. Ester’s dementia had worsened and some of the ensuing ellip-
tical, repetitive, intransigent discussions with her daughter, which
Nagel Rasmussen describes as ‘touching, comical and tragic’ (Nagel
Rasmussen, 2006, p. 48; this text also appears in the programme)
found their way into the performance:

UTA: Mummy – I told you, most of those you knew are dead.
ESTER: I could have a dog.
UTA: How are you going to take care of a dog?
ESTER: A watchdog. Just in front of the trailer.
UTA: It’s very cold in a trailer in the winter.
ESTER: One could put up a heater. (Odin Teatret, 2005, p. 9)

Whilst the text shifts around in terms of logic and time frame as if
playing out the fluidity of memory, the films and images have a spec-
ificity, however. As the performance text states, for example: ‘film
108 Odin Teatret

stops on picture of air-raid shelter at “Rådhuspladsen” (the Town

Hall square) in Copenhagen’ (Odin Teatret, 2005, p. 9). Sometimes
this visual material matches the text, such as when images of the
German invasion of Denmark are shown, or the words of a song,
sung on stage, are projected as if in a music hall singalong (although
on the occasions I have seen the piece, spectators have never joined
in). At another point, the violinist accompanies the film as if at a
silent movie. Overall, a fluid montage builds up an impression of
Ester and, crucially, her daughter, but is arrived at through layering
of verbatim text, film and music.
It is, partly, Barba’s absence that has allowed the production’s
aesthetic to develop. Although he was potentially going to be
involved as director, other projects took Barba away from the
production other than for a few rehearsals, when he ‘suggested
some changes and brought ideas that, as so often before, in a
straightforward way made the scenes more rigorous and thorough’
(Nagel Rasmussen, 2006, p. 48). Nagel Rasmussen admits to feeling
positive that Barba’s input was curtailed, as ‘Eugenio would have
invented lots of things’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). Despite her long
collaboration with Barba, Nagel Rasmussen has moved away from
a fundamental basis and interplay of physical scores in Ester’s Book,
so evident in the ensemble performances, and spends nearly all of
the performance sitting at a desk stage right. She undertakes simple
action and embodies the figure of Ester mainly through voice, but
also by taking on the hunched physicality of the older woman (see
Figure 3.4). Only one part begins with the narration ‘my mother …’.
Structurally, the piece is sectioned into ‘days’; Nagel Rasmussen rips
pages out of a desk calendar to punctuate these sections, folding
each into a representational shape, for example a cigarette or a
house. The sectional aspects and sequences of film and music, rather
than the actor’s physical energy and rhythm, create the dynamic of
this performance.
A simultaneous play of presence and absence weaves through
Ester’s Book, hinging on the (auto)biographical nature of the work.
There are personal artefacts in the performance – Nagel Rasmussen
uses her mother’s own typewriter – but it is the story of the absent
Ester we see, though part of the life of the real Iben, which unfurls
through the montage. Thus Iben plays her mother and becomes both
a dramatic and actual presence. Reinforcing this, the violinist faces
 Performances 109

Figure 3.4 Iben Nagel Rasmussen in Ester’s Book. Photo: Francesco Galli.

slightly upstage for the most part, without any attempt to personify
or characterise ‘Iben’; she is a voice. During the home movies in
particular, when the young Iben appears it is impossible not to look
at the real, adult, Iben on stage, who occupies a double role as her
mother whilst always remaining herself.
According to Nagel Rasmussen, the performance is ‘a reflection on
becoming old in present day Denmark, about loneliness and separa-
tion’ (Odin Teatret, 2005, p. 1), highlighting wider social concerns
beyond her family history. In her review for Århus Stiftstidende,
Danish theatre critic Kirsten Dahl allows much space for a descrip-
tion of the performance, but also draws attention to how the
personal material of the work invokes more universal themes of
mortality, creating ‘a memory that is moving and thought provok-
ing, long after the curtain has fallen’ (Dahl, 2007). But Ester’s Book is
110 Odin Teatret

never sentimental, attesting to its affective directness and unencum-

bered performance style.
Salt (2002) is based on ‘Letter in the Wind’, a short story from the
epistolary novel Si Sta Facendo Sempre Più Tardi [It’s Getting Later and
Later] by Antonio Tabucchi, and is a co-production with Fondazione
Pontedera Teatro. Salt involves two actors, Roberta Carreri, the cen-
tral female character, and Jan Ferslev, as the unidentified ‘Man’ who
accompanies Carreri with a range of unusual musical instruments. As
Barba describes, Ferslev is ‘like her prompter or her shadow, yet his
music, songs and humming as well as his actions didn’t correspond
to those of the protagonist in the centre of the space’ (Barba, 2010a,
p. 104) (see Figure 3.5). In its final form, some six years after Ferslev
and Carreri started working together on the performance, Salt con-
cerns a woman’s travels from one Mediterranean island to another
in search of her lost lover.
The structure of Salt takes the narrative of the letter, but uses other
texts as flashbacks, to explore the themes of memory, loss and love
through a particularly rich, visual aesthetic. In contrast to some of
the other Odin performances (with the exception of the complex
Andersen’s Dream), Salt, with its refined aesthetic, takes some five hours
to set up with a team of people, including a technician travelling from
Holstebro. Each part of the stage setting is relatively simple, however:
a chair and table, another small iron chair, a hat stand, a suitcase, and
a pile of salt (which might represent an island). Black, red and white
create a colour scheme that works to pull elements together: Carreri
has a red coat and holds a red book; the salt is white, as is Ferslev’s
clothing; Carreri winds a huge black veil around herself to create a
strange figure, a ‘corpse’, which ‘produces heartrending screams in the
night (Odin Teatret, 2002, p. 18). Allied to Carreri’s physicality, the
performance’s visual patterns and motifs are clearly carefully selected
and arranged with an eye to the painterly, iconic aesthetic of the pro-
duction (Figure 3.6).
Carreri and Ferslev worked together for around four and a half
years before Barba’s involvement. Barba created the text, as he did
for Itsi Bitsi, though this was not intended to be the root of the
performance, but tangible material with which to work. But Carreri
writes of the earlier exploratory phase with Ferslev as a time when
‘we don’t know what we are looking for. We follow the invisible
thread of our nostalgia’ (Carreri, 2002, p. 6). This unspecified feel
 Performances 111

Figure 3.5 Salt. Drawing by Jacques Arpin.

for a poetics of the past, so different from the mythical themes or

particular starting points of other productions, was explored actively
and collaboratively.
Salt is the only example of a production that has a work demonstration
attached to it, Letter to the Wind (2006), in which three broad strategic
strands are discussed: Carreri links her work on Salt with what she calls
the ‘fourth season’ of her training; in this phase, characters can be
explored independently from context and new theatrical possibilities
112 Odin Teatret

Figure 3.6 Roberta Carreri and Jan Ferslev in Salt. Photo: Jan Rüsz.

for their portrayal are sought. Ferslev also explains how he challenged
himself by playing unfamiliar instruments in order to create what he
calls in the demonstration an appropriate ‘sound universe’. Carreri
worked with objects, and responded physically to Ferslev’s music by
making movement sequences. At one stage, Carreri created a vocal
improvisation in response to Picasso’s Guernica and copied the posi-
tions of statues, as well as used a feature of her later training, ‘counter-
positioning’, to create sculptural forms.
Central to each of these examples is a concern that habits or too
familiar responses are challenged. The stimulus or provocation to the
creation of material is, crucially, external to the actor’s imagination.
This provides precise points of reference around which to work, which
simultaneously provides a focus yet freedom to respond in a way that,
ideally, will stretch the actor’s normative expressive patterns.
Despite its eventual refinement, Barba particularly worked in
later rehearsal to shatter what he identified as ‘mannerisms’ (Barba,
2010a, p. 78). Carreri went through quite a gruelling process:

• I have to translate all my Italian texts into English and learn them
by heart.
• Do an improvisation on a theme given by Eugenio and fix it.
 Performances 113

• Overlay the English text on the fixed improvisation, adapting and

synchronising the physical impulses to the vocal ones.
• Use the resulting rhythms, intonations and melody for my Italian
text. (Barba, 2010a, p. 77)

This technical and ‘cold’ process still draws on the approach to text at
Odin Teatret whereby the actor creates initial action, over which text
is laid in order to influence its delivery. The important development
in this case is that the improvisation stems from the performance’s
content and that the tactic resists Carreri’s familiarity with Italian,
her native language and the language of the production. Eventually,
to give just one example, the words in one sequence run: ‘Scarlet
Tongue/Is so-named because it becomes a beautiful red colour/And it
is, in appearance and taste/A perfect dish’ (Odin Teatret, 2002, p. 15).
However, the apparently mundane nature of the recipe that follows
is resisted since the text is delivered in what has become a tune. Thus
the breaking of natural, textual rhythm is a conscious strategy that
attempts to pull the actor into unfamiliar patterns, but also lends the
text a degree of materiality.
Since text moves beyond a status as the conveyance of linguistic
meaning to a substantive part of the performance aesthetic, music
and sound too provide the piece with a constant tonal fabric. This is
not only because of Ferslev’s music: near the beginning of Salt, the
sound of a steam train slowing to arrival is made by Carreri shifting
her feet on the salt contained in the old suitcase. As the ‘train’ stops,
Carreri speaks in German, ‘Ich sterbe’ (‘I am dying’, Anton Chekhov’s
last words) (Odin Teatret, 2002, p. 14) – the choice of language relates
to a fragment of the story – but the delivery is pulled towards the
urgency of the ‘train’s’ rhythm. In this case, the manipulation of
the sound of the words goes beyond meaning, in order that action,
rhythm and sound reveal the character’s situation. Added to the
almost incessant delivery of text, sound, overall, creates an aurality
that matches the visual aesthetic of the performance.
What in other performance traditions might be called ‘subtext’ is
revealed in Salt through montage. For example, Carreri holds her face
in water, but, each time she surfaces, parts of seemingly contrasting
text are spoken:

I am searching for you in the sparkle of this ocean

Because you have seen it,
114 Odin Teatret

And in the eyes of the haberdasher, the pharmacist,

The old man selling iced coffee in this little square,
Because they may have seen you. (Odin Teatret, 2002, p. 17)

More than a simple contrast, the collision of action and text mutates
the apparent drowning into the action of the woman’s desperation.
Elsewhere, salt is added to the (brilliantly timed) making of (real) cof-
fee; when tasted, the spoken text is ‘spring has passed for us …’ (Odin
Teatret, 2002, p. 19), thus the bitterness of the taste matches the
regret of the passing of the love affair. The performance ends with
Ferslev pulling a curtain closed, recalling the Russian balagan booths,
set up for rough and ready performances at fairgrounds.
Tabucchi himself identifies with the aesthetic development of the
piece, writing fulsomely in the newspaper L’Unità how Barba is a
‘priest, magus or simply illusionist, this man of mysterious power is
enacting for us the mystery of an ancient ritual which renews itself
time and again’ (Tabucchi, 2002). Tabucchi is clearly seduced and
there are similar plaudits for the actors. Other critics have found
the sensual aesthetic problematic; I find this less of an issue, since
some aspects relate to a sensorial engagement with the event of the
performance, as well as its content. And despite its ‘mystery’, what is
particular about Salt is the sheer volume of text spoken by one actor,
which is, not insignificantly, given in full in the programme.
Salt is not a self-indulgent or mawkish performance since it goes
beyond its personal roots as an exploration of nostalgia to the rendi-
tion of a story written by someone else. And although it is pervaded
by a conscious artistry, the piece remains centred on Roberta Carreri’s
performance, around which Ferslev’s presence lurks. Salt’s aesthetic
may ultimately be complex, but it sustains a fluidity of time and
place appropriate to the nature of the story. Importantly, it was ini-
tiated and achieved by the creativity of its performers and in later
collaboration with their director.

Ensemble productions: Andersen’s Dream and

The Chronic Life

The scale and complexity of Andersen’s Dream (2004) is unprecedented

in Odin Teatret’s history. The performance was produced to coincide
with the Odin’s fortieth anniversary and the second centenary of Hans
 Performances 115

Christian Andersen’s birth. When touring, some 14 tonnes of set, cos-

tumes and equipment were sent as cargo, an ambitious logistic for a
company so reliant on travelling. Andersen’s Dream had a particularly
large budget, supported by a major grant from the H. C. Andersen
2005 Fonden and is unlikely to be replicated in terms of build and
scenography.4
Technical means played no small part in creating the performance’s
‘evocative’ dramaturgy. During an early tour to Seville in 2005, the
first time I saw the performance, one reviewer enthuses:

everything changes after watching one of Odin Teatret’s works.

Something collapses, dreams can flow and the air is filled with
intuition, suspicion, uncertainty even: the suffocating atmo-
sphere of nightmares that every member of the audience has
within them is released, that hidden element that lies beneath lay-
ers of security – earth, oblivion, distance – because it would be too
difficult to live with this imaginary version of the unconscious.
(Diaz Perez, 2005)

This florid response is in part due to the interest generated around

what was Odin Teatret’s first full-scale performance in the city and
the fact that most reviewers were sympathetic to Odin and Barba’s
long-standing, supportive links with Seville.5 But it is also redolent of
the suggestive imagery of the production, which especially exempli-
fies Odin’s rejection of linear logic in its dreamlike form.
Away from press reviews, Annelis Kuhlmann’s long account of
Andersen’s Dream focuses on spectator response. For Kuhlmann, there
is an ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ performance dramaturgy: the inner concerns
the interweaving of Andersen’s tales, or rather fragments and allu-
sions to them, as well as text from his diaries, with the outer circum-
stances of the creation of the production, in which Kuhlmann sees
‘the actors’ artistic and existential frustrations about defying their
age, health and experience’ (Kuhlmann, 2005, p. 219). The challenge
of finding new stimuli and the energy and patience to work together
was indeed great, and the limits of age and physical abilities, as well
as a reluctance to tour for weeks at a time, at least silently acknowl-
edged: Torgeir Wethal reports the implicit belief in rehearsal that
Andersen’s Dream might have been the last ‘big’ production for Odin
Teatret (Wethal, 2004). The presentiment that the production might
116 Odin Teatret

have become a kind of swansong has not proven true, as The Chronic
Life has since emerged, though this piece is not of the same scale.
In rehearsal, Andersen’s Dream attempted to incorporate new, or at
least different, procedures that might shake up the long-established
Odin Teatret. Whilst Barba later worked on a slowly developed
montage of action based on the actors’ material, at an early meet-
ing he had said, ‘I will work only with what you bring me’ (Wethal,
2004, p. 7). Although this is an actor-centric process, founded on the
actors’ response to content and form, Barba still set the specific work
tasks: some actors travelled to Africa, a continent that is less familiar
to the group than other regions, in order to learn new skills and
gather fresh stimuli, and all were asked to work for a while in an old
people’s home (though none achieved this task; the theme of old age
was also dropped). Later, each actor had to produce an hour’s worth
of solo material, plus direct a 20-minute version of one of Andersen’s
tales involving the rest of the group. In the face of the enormous task
of creating a large-scale ensemble production, Barba’s provocative
directorial tactics surface here.
Whilst the creation of early material related to the condition of
the group, Barba subsequently wished to see how elements might
combine without his input. Once the solo and group work had been
shown, the assistant directors (there were three at the time),6 who
had also directed their own tales, were asked to create an assembly
of the rough material. Again, Barba seems to be deferring to creativ-
ity other than his own, but Wethal seemed uncertain of these overall
tactics, since the process contained ‘no labyrinths, no surprises …
straight to the finishing line’ (Wethal, 2004, p. 13). As well as some
mistrust of what was considered a goal-oriented process, much was
under-rehearsed, especially the group work (Wethal, 2004). Anton
judged the raw material to be of a ‘somewhat low standard’ (Anton,
2004, p. 37). But despite the pressure to produce and remember
this mass of early material, Wethal reports that there was a positive
spirit to the early on-the-hoof performance (Wethal, 2004), which
provided 20 hours of raw action with nine actors.7 From around
February 2002, this was shaped into Andersen’s Dream.
Barba sets up the issue of spectatorship as a structural device within
the performance. Writing in ‘Two Tracks for the Spectator’ in the pro-
gramme, Barba informs us that we ‘depart on a pilgrimage into the
regions of Andersen’s fairy tales’, warning that we ‘sail on a tenebrous
 Performances 117

dream: a vessel that transports men and women in chains’ (Barba,

2004b, p. 2). This image links to the second narrative ‘track’, that of
Andersen’s own dream in which he finds himself on a slave ship, not,
as he thought, the king’s vessel. The dream plays out Andersen’s own
fear, when ‘he never lost the anguished awareness that only through
constant struggle could he break the chains of his original condition
as a serf, and that, perhaps, in the belly of his beloved and civilised
country, a people of slaves was hidden’ (Barba, 2004b, p. 2). Barba
clearly wants spectators to follow the performance as if caught up in
their own dream.
The production’s themes of slavery, creativity, voyage, escape and
love were linked to concrete scenographic and action choices, some
of which are drawn from or allude to Andersen’s work. The specially
constructed auditorium had a ceiling of two large mirrors; the gap
in between housed a mechanism for flying, including at one point
first one, then a second actor riding a dog (an image taken from
Andersen’s The Tinder Box), as well as a swing capable of supporting
two actors (see Figure 3.7). Snow fell at several points and masks and
puppets appeared. A model sailing ship glided across the mirrored
ceiling, Nagel Rasmussen uncovered red roses in the snow, as if Gerda
in Andersen’s The Snow Queen. Larsen was ‘tortured’ with spoons as
well as hung – though still managed to play his trumpet in the next
musical number. A pair of wooden legs was sawn off (this comes
from the tale The Red Shoes), only to reappear as crutches, then as
Scheherazade ‘legs’. All of this was watched, as if conjured up, by the
puppet Andersen, complicating the metanarrative of a dream.
Luca Ruzza, the production’s designer and architect, writes that
‘the theatre’s space is found in the mind of the spectator’ (Ruzza,
2004, p. 25), suggesting that scenic configuration does not delimit
the spectators’ experience, but that scenography is made sense of
through spectators’ imaginative responses. We are not just in a
performance space and our role changes accordingly. In Andersen’s
Dream, we might be onlookers in ‘the hold of a “floating” anatomic
theatre’ (Ruzza, 2004, p. 29) or, as I thought when first seeing the
production, a ship, or time travellers to a space reminiscent of
Meyerhold’s planned auditorium; the marionettes recall too the end
of his famed production of Gogol’s The Government Inspector (1926)
(see Ledger, 2005). Although In the Skeleton of the Whale conceives
of spectators as if at a last supper (perhaps), this shifting in the
118 Odin Teatret

Figure 3.7 Rehearsal of Andersen’s Dream. Photo: Jørgen Anton.

spectators’ role is also to reprise older practice, since in the first Odin
Teatret production, Ornitofilene, spectators were couched as a kind of
jury and directly addressed. To nuance Ruzza’s analogy, Andersen’s
Dream demonstrates how the spectators’ fictional situation is created
by the locus of the Odin Teatret theatre event.
The performance space was not easy from an acting perspective.
Wethal’s reaction was that ‘it is the most difficult performing space
ever. There is only a small area where all the spectators can see all
 Performances 119

the actors frontally at the same time. … The oval shape is limiting.
It is a space that demands a good articulation – of the backbone’
(Wethal, 2004, p. 16). Wethal’s comments suggest how the sinuous
and precise energy of the spine must work to fill the space; one
movement feature in the production was a rotation of the whole
body around the axis of the spine, resulting in actors who turned
and span. And whilst the mirrors created a vertical dimension
through reflection, the curved sides of the seating had an effect
spatially since it was impossible for the actor to move in a straight
line and keep a constant distance from the front row of seating
(Figure 3.8).
Andersen’s Dream makes particular demands on the spectator. On
the one hand, the use of Andersen’s writing is made explicit in the
title and the extensive programme, as are other procedures and view-
points. But the manifestation of this information is so fragmented,
alluded to and bound up in an extraordinarily rich visual and aural
dramaturgy, that any rendering of explicit meaning is thwarted.
Whilst we are invited to consider the ‘Two Tracks for the Spectator’
as a dream state, Kuhlmann’s impressionistic unravelling of the

Figure 3.8 Andersen’s Dream. Photo: Tony D’Urso.

120 Odin Teatret

dramaturgy is, albeit impressive, one that reinforces that any inter-
pretation of specific moments relies on a knowledge of Andersen’s
tales, along with experience as an Odin Teatret spectator.
Just as the act of spectatorship is implicit in the production, so
too is the practice and transmission of acting. Kuhlmann points
out that Andersen’s Dream is dedicated to Meyerhold in the guise of
Doctor Dappertutto,8 and to Tortsov, Stanislavski’s literary alter ego.
Kuhlmann ends her associative analysis by concluding:

through the ritual form of the theatre space the spectators and
actors are brought in contact with the theatrical layer of the pro-
duction. Through the spectator’s experience in the inner drama-
turgical levels of the narrative this relationship between space and
people reveals the connecting line to the artistic enunciation and
dedication of the production (Kuhlmann, 2005, p. 243)

This conceptual dramaturgy is particularised in the Odin actors, who,

as Wethal suggests, had to overcome personal and group challenges
in order to ‘dream’. The production closes in a sequence founded on
the actors’ identity as actors: they appear in pyjamas, each moving
with a large, light paper printed with their photo, which are placed
in a ‘grave’ (Figure 3.9). Scheherazade, as the Little Match Girl, sets
light to what has become a funeral pyre.
The playing out of this death ritual was augmented not only by
one of the few times Barba has realised his desire for fire on stage,
but also by the reappearance of the puppet Andersen, who witnesses
from afar. Although the imagery around this section had changed
when I saw the production later (2010), Kuhlmann suggests the
actors who took part ‘in the big dramaturgical ritual must also leave
their roles one day (Kuhlmann, 2005, p. 237). The action is a com-
ment on Odin Teatret itself: the dream, and the acting, are being
deliberately burnt.
Next, a shot was fired and Scheherazade is ‘killed’. Operated by
Kai Bredholdt, Andersen is made, curiously, to rap, before disap-
pearing too ‘with Shahrazad’s [sic] sweet laughter in their heaven’
(Kuhlmann, 2005, p. 239). Scheherazade’s death may indeed mean
that no more stories can be told (Kuhlmann, 2005, p. 238), but
there is now no possibility even of reprising the performance, as the
production too was ‘buried’ after its final performance in Bogotá,
 Performances 121

Figure 3.9 Torgeir Wethal in Andersen’s Dream. Photo: Tony D’Urso.

Colombia (similar to other rituals undertaken when a production is

deemed finished) on 10 April 2011.

The Chronic Life

During a conversation with me (May 2009), Barba said that Odin
Teatret’s decision to embark on a new production towards the end of
the first decade of the new century, and approaching nearly 50 years
of the group’s existence, was taken partly to see if the group could
still undertake a project together. With the working title XL (Extra
Large), the production was rehearsed in several blocks in Holstebro
from February 2008, and for a week in Wroclaw, Poland, in October
2010. By then, the decision to include Ursula Andkjær Olsen’s poems
122 Odin Teatret

in the performance had been taken; fragments of her work appear in

the final production.
Despite the difficulties with previous productions, the programme
for The Chronic Life includes several testimonies from the actors,
which are especially revealing; in fact, the amount of this kind of
material has not appeared previously. The actors’ writings document
and reflect upon the production’s process and are in each case also
personal in content. Monsalve’s speaks of leaving her home, just like
her character in the performance, whose intention is expressed in the
line ‘I came because I was told my father lived here’ (Monsalve, 2011,
p. 24). Monsalve also details some of the work around the creation
and adaptation of scores and the decision to work with her eyes cov-
ered, so that ‘besides other things, the performance also speaks of the
process of creating it’ (Monsalve, 2011, p. 27). Suggesting how The
Chronic Life echoes the circumstances of the group making it, Varley
begins her account, ‘now that the performance is almost finished,
I have begun to see it as a protest against the inevitability of death
and the affirmation of the need to go on, despite everything’ (Varley,
2011b, p. 37); as Carreri says, ‘we carry on because we cannot help
it’ (Carreri, 2011, p. 56). But rather than working to fixed deadlines,
Odin Teatret had clearly made a decision to allow the performance
the time that it needed to develop.
When I first observed rehearsals for a short period in 2009, it was
relatively clear to see how fragments of action, taken from the actors’
initial presentation of a character, had been joined together; but this
was simply an early ‘draft’ of the performance. Over two years later,
when rehearsals moved to the Grotowski Institute, Wroclaw, the pri-
ority still remained to open up the work, not fix its form; I have men-
tioned earlier some of the changes that took place. In Wroclaw, Odin
Teatret was part of the Grotowski Institute’s ‘Master in Residence’
programme. Some 30 participants witnessed rehearsal for six days
and were involved in daily discussions with Barba. This residency
was titled ‘The Collective Mind’,9 a period during which

the ‘collective mind’ integrates the different specialisations, the

various degrees of experience and the diverse responsibilities in an
assembling process similar to that which happens in the individual
mind in the course of invention … At the same time the ‘collective
mind’ – the people involved in the process – is trying to deepen and
 Performances 123

elaborate the materials already developed, finding new technical

solutions and attempting to guess where these materials can lead,
which new stories they provoke and which end would be the most
appropriate for them … (Odin Teatret, 2011h)10

Although an intense period, this description suggests how decisions

as to meaning and ‘story’ might emerge subconsciously through the
observations of a group of people, in turn affecting form, and reflects
the overall rehearsal process of The Chronic Life, which spanned some
four years. It is also a remarkable openness on Barba’s part.
Even in its development stage, the performance included identifi-
able characterisations, which, although not fully developed in each
actor’s case, demonstrated that what might be understood as figures
or personae are consciously constructed. Often, clear choices of phys-
ical attributes, especially the decision to make characters limp as they
walked, a particular costume or the use of objects were evident. For
example, Iben Nagel Rasmussen created the figure of a ‘dark angel’
by wearing her own clothes in several layers, but added a homemade
headdress to this outfit. At first, Nagel Rasmussen worked with a
specific walking rhythm, suggestive of age or debility, as did other
actors, though Nagel Rasmussen’s speed of movement had become
much faster by the later stages. Barba collaborated to shape the ‘dark
angel’ into the ‘Black Madonna’ of the production by adding three
model hands (one of which is black, and all of which recall the
dozens of hands appearing in the earlier Mythos). Nagel Rasmussen
had also developed sequences using a sword, giving the character a
further life through precise physical action and positions. This mate-
rial was later cut down, but, most strikingly, the character remained
enhanced in performance by black face make-up and a red tongue.
Given the Odin’s preferences since the early Ornitofilene, a shared, dra-
matic situation or ensemble improvisation does not create characters;
rather it is the actor’s inventiveness and the subsequent reaction of
the director that shapes concrete choices.
Since characters are conceived as entities to be slowly built and
changed, often far from the actor’s own nature, cross-gender per-
formance became a significant feature of The Chronic Life. In Odin
Teatret’s praxis, a character’s gender is understood as its own, not
that of the actor, something not possible in conventional, naturalis-
tic performance. Julia Varley originally played a man, but this turned
124 Odin Teatret

into a woman after some rehearsal (Varley, 2011b). Jan Ferslev worked
on ‘Linda’ for some while, who was, he described in Wroclaw, either
a man in drag or a transvestite, or possibly a transsexual; Ferslev
too reported the transformative value of female costume (given
to him by Barba at one stage). Ferslev’s own long hair and height,
augmented by high heels, made for a striking appearance, which,
intriguingly, made strange the otherwise cross-gender estrangement.
All of this was changed for the final performance, where Ferslev is
‘a rock musician from the Faroe Islands’, a less intriguing choice per-
haps. Sofia Monsalve remained a boy. Her character, the ‘Colombian
boy searching for his father disappeared in Europe’, is, unusually in
the Odin’s body of work, a kind of protagonist.
Despite the fact that Barba maintained that he was not interested
in using his autobiography in the production (Bredholt, 2011,
p. 33), one scene has been left fundamentally unaltered from how it
was offered by the actors in early rehearsal. For an initial proposal,
Kai Bredholt dressed as a woman and presented a long scene based
on the account of the death of Barba’s father, as described in his On
Directing and Dramaturgy (Barba, 2010a, pp. 35–9). Bredholt asked
Sofia Monsalve to play the young Eugenio, although the puppet dou-
ble ‘Lolito’ is also used in the performance (Figure 3.10). Although
Bredholt later became ‘the widow of a Basque officer’, it is startling
to realise that Bredholt based his character on Barba’s mother, Donna
Vera, and that Barba’s apparent younger self is played by a young
woman. In his account of the rehearsal process, Bredholt concludes
that ‘it turned out that the performance didn’t deal with Eugenio
and his life … yet the performance is also about Eugenio’ (Bredholt,
2011, p. 33).
Operating through a directorial ‘improvisation’ implies Barba’s
real-time authorship in the working room. Barba responds to how
particular sections might be developed, changed or improved as
rehearsal proceeds. For example, in The Chronic Life, one part of the
action concerned Ferslev giving drugs to the others. From my obser-
vation in Wroclaw, it seemed that Barba wanted to strengthen this
moment by having points of physical contact between the actors,
which would then connect into the subsequent sequence.
To proceed, Barba asked that the actors involved in this section
reproduce an older improvisation based on the idea of ‘three ways
to greet a prodigal son’. After some checking in notebooks and
 Performances 125

Figure 3.10 Sofia Monsalve and Kai Bredholt in The Chronic Life. Photo: Rina
Skeel.

individual practice, the actors demonstrated their work: Bredholt

showed a sequence where he first hit the son, simply stared coldly,
and finally took the (imagined) son’s hands in order to spin him
around and around; Roberta Carreri’s choices involved actions
such as clasping the head of the returning son and throwing off
an embrace. Barba selected parts of this action to make a sequence:
Carreri (physically) calls Bredholt; he tries to clasp her hands; Carreri
rejects Bredholt by adapting the hand position of the earlier action
into a push against his shoulders; she turns away to use the head-
clasping action to touch, and so on. Although, again, altered for the
final performance, this assemblage is unquestionably Barba’s, but has
arisen through a montage of the actors’ individual offers. The resul-
tant effects in performance have little to do with the source improvi-
sation, other than the analogous theme of ‘greeting’. However, this
example, and the discussion of Bredholt’s work above, exemplify
how, even with changes, the traces of earlier decisions still permeate
the later dramaturgy.
The Chronic Life exhibits several clear narrative strands. The text
of Varley’s ‘Chechnyan refugee’ recounts the story of her life, often
126 Odin Teatret

directly to spectators. Other characters, who are similarly labelled as

types, are at times isolated for concrete action: for example, Roberta
Carreri, ‘the Rumanian [sic] housewife’, attempts suicide by cover-
ing her head with a plastic bag, paradoxically to confirm that she
is alive (Figure 3.11); and much of Larsen’s text, that of ‘a Danish
Lawyer’, utilises fragments of Andkjær Olsen’s poetry, which are
nevertheless enigmatic (and, in their clever use of Danish, difficult
to translate into English). However, Monsalve’s narrative line is a
deliberate puzzle: she apparently seeks her father during the per-
formance, though he is clearly presented as dead in the first scene,
and she herself apparently ‘dies’ several times. This causes a tension
between clear figures or fragments of narrative, and a more figura-
tive context or situation, so typical of Odin Teatret’s dense, imagistic
performances.
As mentioned in Chapter 1, part of the work to complete a produc-
tion centres on finalising the aural fabric of the performance. A spe-
cial feature of The Chronic Life is its use of a multiplicity of languages,
including English, Basque, Romanian and Spanish. On a practical
level, this means that different language versions of the performance

Figure 3.11 Roberta Carreri in The Chronic Life. Photo: Rina Skeel.
 Performances 127

will not be made, as with other productions, beyond changing some

lines to ensure that spectators understand just enough to make sense
of the action. Another aural quality is caused by how the block of
ice that features so strongly in the first scene is left to melt and drip
into a military helmet in real time, emblematic of life disappearing,
perhaps. Throughout, coins are thrown and clatter on the wooden
stage, another metaphor that might be taken as referring to death
or capitalism. On the other hand, by the final version, music was,
generally, played from offstage, which I found divorced it from the
action I had seen develop in rehearsal. Although Ferslev and Larsen
played, respectively, the electric guitar and the trumpet or electric
bass from onstage, this isolated choice is in some contrast to other
ensemble productions: in Andersen’s Dream previously, those playing
were visible, and during the tonal ‘weave’ of Inside the Skeleton of the
Whale, the physicality of musicianship is palpable.
Despite the various narrative ‘clues’ contained in the dramaturgy,
the performance space functions as resolutely metaphorical. The set
comprised a kind of decking, which might be construed as a raft,
the terrace of a building, a country, or even Europe. I have described
previously (Chapter 1) how Barba changed the space during Wroclaw
rehearsals to create an ‘outside’ area to the wooden staging. In the
later performance, this adds to points of meaning: Varley, the out-
sider who wishes to join what she refers to as ‘Wonderland’, falls
backwards off the edge of the ‘raft’ during her attempts to cross what
is set up as a border, and Nagel Rasmussen’s ‘Black Madonna’, a figure
of fate, is able to observe the action both from outside the main area
and from above. Not dissimilarly, playing cards are a recurring motif
for photographs of the dead, or, as actual objects, the fate that one
is dealt. As with Andersen’s Dream, Barba’s ‘evocative dramaturgy’ is
embedded in scenographic choices.
As I write, Julia Varley is working on a new performance, but,
anecdotally at least, I am told that Barba has said that the Odin
will make no more ensemble performances. If The Chronic Life does
prove to be the last to involve the group, at least from the outset
it was envisaged as ‘a performance with a happy ending’ (Schino,
2009, p. 188). Although Monsalve is sucked into the ‘Wonderland’
of The Chronic Life and apparently made to conform to a place where
‘people eat without being hungry and drink without being thirsty’
(Monsalve, 2011, p. 27), she seems to free herself from this nihilistic
128 Odin Teatret

environment when joined by her ‘double’, the violinist Elena Floris.

Although, as always, ambiguous in interpretation, in the final
sequence of action Monsalve leads Floris through a hitherto unused
doorway at the far end of the space, opened by a key in a golden
lock. ‘Wonderland’ seems to resolve into a fairy tale. If we accept the
premise of Kuhlmann’s symbolic analysis of Andersen’s Dream earlier,
this final image of what might be Odin Teatret’s final ensemble pro-
duction is clearly given to the next generation.
4
Odin Teatret in the Community:
Barter and Festuge

A feature seen repeatedly in the Odin Teatret’s philosophy is a belief

that its working conditions and the people it meets reflexively focus
the Odin’s identity both as a group and as individuals. Although
another part of this book examined how training and the pedagogical
work to which it relates has developed over the years, the fundamental
premise of the actor’s presence is linked to a social context, because

in the beginning, we wanted an actor who could work miracles,

conscious of his own body, his instrument. A misguided way of
thinking because the more we are conscious of our body, the more
we become blocked. Freedom is forgetting our own person and
going beyond ourselves to reach another, in security, without fear.
For us from the Odin, the theatre is this reciprocal presence. It is
the relationship that we establish between us. Not theories, not
methods – just this relationship. A relationship within, and a rela-
tionship towards others, which changes according to the realities,
the conditions and the people we meet. (Barba, 1979, p. 137)

The route to ‘forgetting’ the body is, paradoxically, through decisive

training, which will lead, Barba argues, to a secure, creative and
communicative freedom.

Barter and Festuge

This chapter initially discusses barter, a practice that began around

ten years after the formation of Odin Teatret, and which continues

129
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
130 Odin Teatret

very often today. As well as looking at some of Odin’s seminal

experiences in order to provide context and to highlight develop-
ments in later work, I will draw on recent barter work to offer case
studies of what has occurred in the new century, especially where
film documentation has also been made. Simply speaking, a barter
is an event where one group performs and, rather than receiving
payment, a performance is offered in return by another group. What
is ‘bartered’ is therefore cultural identity expressed through some
performative means: a dance for a song, a poem for a piece of music,
one story for another, and so on. Other activities can be used: I have
seen barter events where martial arts, motorcycling stunts and ani-
mal handling have featured. These are not ‘performance’ as such,
but are still activities that can be displayed or shared. A meeting
of cultures through barter is therefore inherently multidisciplinary.
Further, organisation is important to the realisation of barter, which,
as this chapter will suggest, today demonstrates a certain form or
familiar features.
Barba’s text ‘Letter from the South of Italy’ (Barba, 1979,
pp. 119–132)1 reveals how barter emerged in Sardinia and later
during Odin’s five-month residency in Carpignano, southern Italy
(1974).2 Barba articulates the socio-philosophical context around
barter. Some early and significant barter work is documented on
film: In Search of Theatre (1974) shows the original work in Italy and
Theatre Meets Ritual (1976) shows barter with the Yanomami Indians
of Venezuela. There are also more recent films; for example, Odin
Teatret in Cuba (2002) concerns barter (and is on the Odin Teatret
Archives website) and Per gli anziani (For the elderly) (2005) docu-
ments work in Turin, Italy, involving composer Frans Winther and
the Odin actors Kai Bredholt and Augusto Omolú. Bredholt has
taken a particular interest in barter, and, in 2009, ran a workshop
in Holstebro for only ten participants on this work, in conjunction
with Teatro dell’Albero’s Mario Barzaghi.3 Again, I would urge the
reader to visit the Odin Teatret Archives website to watch recordings
of material concerning barter.
Festuge is an aspect of Odin’s work that is far less familiar, but
deserves extensive consideration as it is the most significant means
by which the Odin connects with its home town. Working with the
local community, Odin Teatret’s members help organise Festuge, or
‘festive week’, in Holstebro every few years. Over about ten days,
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 131

different local groups put on performances or engage in performative

activity.4 Festuge can be connected to barter since the performance
events that make it up attempt to heighten mutual perception of
apparently disparate sections of a community by placing individual
elements side by side in a framework.
Despite its apparently important social imperatives, Festuge has
received surprisingly brief critical attention (Watson, 1995; Turner,
2004); it is a pity that the former doesn’t clarify what I understand
was a personal encounter. Although, here, I begin by reconstructing
some background to earlier Festuge events, I will draw on examples
from the 2008 Festuge, which I attended in June of that year;5 this
also involved related activities such as ‘interventions’, when perfor-
mance is placed into the town in order to disrupt its daily rhythms
and activities.
As the name implies, interventions are performance activities that
visit various locations, institutions, buildings or businesses and inter-
vene in, or disrupt, the daily life of the community. Intervention can
be traced back to events within older street performance or parades;
one that might be relished can be seen in the film On the Two Banks
of the River (1978), when the Odin presented a flower to the local
mayor, the figure representing draconian censorship in Peru.6 Years
later, a whole set of interventions and performances took place as
part of Odin’s 2009 programme ‘Theatre as Interference’, based in
and around Holstebro.
For Barba, Festuge’s basis in barter means ‘a sensation that a meta-
morphosis is taking place’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 151) through the social-
ising mechanism of performance. In contextual terms, Odin Teatret
thus groups barter, Festuge and interventions under the neologism
‘transformance’, which is defined as

an activity that reaches beyond usual theatrical spaces and

conventions. It aims at the transformation of a whole milieu – a
school or any other institution, a parish, a neighbourhood or a
village. TRANSFORMANCE presupposes the practice of theatre as
interference, as a factor upsetting the usual daily dynamics and
relationships. In TRANSFORMANCE theatre uses its manifold
knowledge to free latent energy in a milieu and bring about a
constellation of unexpected collaborative bonds. (Odin Teatret,
2011i)
132 Odin Teatret

These are certainly bold claims. However, these assertions suggest

a theatre that moves beyond artistic endeavour, often in a theatre
building, to the need for a performance situation, or theatrical
tactics, far from traditional expectations or configuration, which can
stimulate, refresh or change community awareness and perspectives
(Figure 4.1). So as well as its cultural value, questions of aesthet-
ics are posed; as Watson suggests, ‘the value of this exchange is
the exchange itself … esthetics and dollar worth are irrelevant’
(Watson, 1995, p. 26). Aesthetic form, or even on occasion perfor-
mance standards, may not – and need not – be high in ‘regular’
theatrical terms.
Overall, what can variously be understood as community theatre,
applied theatre or socially conscious theatre activity again challenges
any idea that the Odin is a private, closed theatre group, interested in
difficult performances for only a small number of spectators.

Barter

The concept and practice of barter is bound up with an ideology

that understands performance as an activity that must connect
people, whilst at the same time celebrating their differences. At its
most simple, two groups perform for each other. Sometimes, a joint
performance is conducted, which can happen spontaneously (if one
group asks the other to join in a dance, for instance) or have varying
degrees of preparation (like a jam session in jazz perhaps). As Watson
puts it, this phenomenon ‘signals the dissolution of the … spectators
as all the protagonists become performers simultaneously’ (Watson,
1995, p. 29), suggesting how barter resists the conventions of the-
atre. What Watson calls ‘structural instability’ (Watson, 1995, p. 29)
allows for an improvisatory quality that foregrounds a sociocultural
encounter and the expression of culture. Barba has thus pointed out
the subversive nature of barter, recalling that

Julian Beck7 said that theatre was a Trojan horse, and this is the most
pertinent definition of barter. We introduce ourselves as a harmless
group of people who like dances and songs. Nothing dangerous,
and people gather around us ready to participate. … When a barter
takes place, you open up the multiple sociocultural layers and facets
of the neighbourhood. (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 20)
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 133

Figure 4.1 Holstebro Festuge 2008. Photo: Adam J. Ledger.

However, as we will see, sometimes barters are quite complicated

events, which go beyond an exchange between just two groups.
Often, spectators are present too but do not participate actively,
which, to an extent, may draw barter back towards more usual expec-
tations of performance.

Origins
My Father’s House was performed successfully from 1972 to 1974
and begins something of a shift away from what has been called the
134 Odin Teatret

‘closed room’ period (Christoffersen, 1993, pp. 19–27), where perfor-

mances were slowly rehearsed in the private world of Holstebro and
presented indoors for a relatively small number of spectators. As well
as performances on tour and at international festivals, My Father’s
House also toured to Sardinia, where it was performed for the local
population that was made up of shepherds and peasants unused to
the theatre. As Barba admits, these audiences did not always under-
stand the work (Barba, 1979, p. 122), but after some of the perfor-
mances, the Sardinian people wanted to perform their own dances
and songs for the actors because of a ‘desire to present themselves
to us, to do something that corresponded to what they had seen’
(Barba, 1979, p. 122). It is here that the possibility of barter emerges,
a vehicle that is both performative and social.
Following My Father’s House, Barba decided that the next produc-
tion would begin with the theme of ‘journey’; the production The
Million was performed in 1978–84. As a way to proceed, the Odin
developed the early improvisations that had taken place in Holstebro
(Roberta Carreri joined the group at this time, after her initial jour-
ney to Denmark). The deliberate strategy of relocation threw the
group back onto a recurring idea in the Odin’s philosophy, that of
remaining ‘foreign’ in order to define itself (see, for example, Barba,
1999a, pp. 183–93). The group stayed in a house and, as can be seen
in In Search of Theatre, continued training. This sometimes took place
outdoors, beginning at 5 a.m. to mirror the time that the villagers
began work in the fields, and so could be seen by the local people.
Odin Teatret also developed street performance and the clown show
Johan Sebastian Bach (this is seen performed outdoors at a school in
In Search of Theatre).
Despite intense activity and living quarters in the centre of the
village, Odin’s members remained somewhat isolated and had no
performance to offer. Nevertheless, the group had no desire simply
to impose themselves on the village, but, as Barba explains, on their
arrival ‘it [Odin] continues to follow its rules of life, its discipline,
the training which is important to each member of the group. It
avoids, however, behaving in public in such a way as to offend and
trample on rules which are vital to the village. Then it is the theatre
group that becomes the object of study for the population’ (Barba,
1979, p. 127). The group was clearly not interested in undertaking an
artistic residency solely for its own ends and in exploitation of the
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 135

unfamiliar environment; yet Barba’s statement reveals an awareness

of how practice creates a kind of security and identity that others
may find curious and, ultimately, interesting and acceptable.
It seems that barter began as something of an accident during the
stay in Carpignano. The Odin was on its way to visit friends from
the University of Lecce, when the actors found themselves followed
by some of the villagers, who asked them to play their instruments.
Without a performance to offer, the actors went through some of the
songs and vocal improvisations that formed part of their training.
At first, this new performance situation seemed difficult to compre-
hend; Barba asked, ‘what had Odin actors become; a casual group
of musicians?’ (Barba, 1979, p. 121). The actors had been used to
intense and serious work as part of a group that was already famous;
now demands were being made of them in the street. However, Barba
goes on to describe: ‘what surprised us most, at the end, was … the
fact that some people said to us: “Now you must hear our songs”.
They began to sing … work songs, songs with the special rhythm
that accompanies the movement of the tobacco and olive harvests,
and also the songs of unhappy love and death’ (Barba, 1979, p. 121,
original emphasis). Barba’s description captures the atmosphere of
the occasion, but reinforces that the true value of barter is not the
performance activity itself, but the cultural values that the activity
embodies. For Barba, ‘it is in diversity that men meet and define
themselves reciprocally … This diversity fascinates. We want to
discover it, to measure it against our experience … But to do this
we must face it, we must show ourselves, we must expose ourselves’
(Barba, 1979, p. 127). This can be taken to represent the experience
of any group participating in barter today.
Barter grew quickly in its first years in Italy. In Carpignano, word
spread of this new activity and the Odin was invited to other vil-
lages. Sometimes groups came to meet Odin Teatret at Carpignano
and, most significantly perhaps, other groups made barters with
each other elsewhere. The following year, Odin Teatret returned
to Carpignano and Sardinia to continue this type of work. Barba
observes that ‘we tried to make tentacles grow that would take hold
and remain after our parting’ (Barba, 1979, p. 128), suggesting the
need for lasting effects through the ideology and practice of barter.
This time, socially conscious actions were introduced too, such as
asking spectators to bring a book to the barter that could be left to
136 Odin Teatret

form the beginnings of a local library, or to collect artefacts for a

museum (Barba, 1979, pp. 128, 130).
Aside from these key examples, barter has continued on both a
small and large scale and often as part of the Odin’s main tours.
Barter has taken place, to pick only a few examples, in Brecon as part
of Cardiff Laboratory Theatre; in Paris; at ISTA in, for example, 1987
and 1990 (Taviani, 1994); at Third Theatre meetings in Ayacucho
in Peru often amidst difficult political circumstances (Figure 4.2);8
throughout Latin America, and in myriad circumstances elsewhere:
for example, as part of the 2008 Festuge in Holstebro, I saw a short
barter between Poland’s Teatr Zar and the group Bridge of Winds, led
by Iben Nagel Rasmussen, which presented both separate and joint
sections, and I took part in a barter during the Odin Week Festival
in August 2010. These latter examples are events that were planned
through initial discussion and brief rehearsal, and with an awareness
that an audience would attend. In all these diverse encounters – and
there are far too many to list – exchange is paramount. Since money
isn’t part of the transaction, many non-professional groups have
taken part in barters, empowering their self-expression and identity
through even the briefest of performances.

Barter: Cuba
One great advantage of barter is that it does not require a traditional
theatre building. Barters often take place outdoors, such as in the
street, a square or by forming a circle of spectators in an open space.
Some have taken place in other types of venue, such as a disused fac-
tory for the 1990 ISTA barter (Taviani, 1994), or a sports stadium for a
barter as part of Odin’s tour to Cuba in January and February 2002.
In contrast to the apparently instantaneous origins of barters in
Italy, the Cuba barter is a good example of how much preparation
took place beforehand. As the film Odin Teatret in Cuba (see Odin
Teatret Archives, 2011c) shows, Kai Bredholt met a group of rap-
pers to hold a short barter. The rapper performed, and Bredholt
figured out how to join in through improvisation. His accordion,
a traditional folk instrument, already barters with the contemporary
sound of rap. Later, dressed as Otto the white bear, one of Odin’s
stock figures (which appears in parades and in the performance Ode
to Progress), Bredholt went to a centre for the disabled, where he
performed with the rapper. Two martial artists put on a display, but
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 137

Figure 4.2 Odin Teatret in Ayacucho, Peru, 1998. Photo: Tony D’Urso.

later went through their moves accompanied by the musicians, an

example of how elements of barter can be combined to create a basic,
unique performance. At another point, some of the audience also
join in and danced hip-hop. Here, barter demonstrates its cumula-
tive potential.
Whilst there are often invitations to undertake barter, some-
times possibilities have to be rooted out by asking around in, for
instance, bars, meeting places and clubs, or, as in Cuba, by building
138 Odin Teatret

up a momentum that gathers a range of participants. Julia Varley

explains that

the preparation of a barter takes time. The main difficulty is con-

vincing a person to present publically something which s/he does
not consider of great value. In addition, the idea of exchanging
cultural manifestations is so alien and bizarre, that the first reac-
tion is usually of refusal or disbelief. But this is the real meaning
and political radiation of the barters we propose. The relationships
and contacts which are established … leave a trace in the aware-
ness of the people and often remain after our theatre has left. The
knowledge of the hidden life of a community, the unveiling of
the personal abilities that exist, the capacity of bringing people
together at times become such a deep and meaningful experience.
(Varley, n.d., n.p.)

Varley’s view shatters any idea that barter is somehow simple to realise
or, as in its beginnings in Carpignano, apparently accidental; indeed,
Odin Teatret have often advised local organisers on strategies and
encouraged perseverance. As Varley suggest, the rewards can be great.
The importance and spirit of barters can be undeniably striking,
but sometimes show features akin to regular performance. In Cuba,
the final barter was presented to an audience in a large outdoor
sports arena. The Odin performed a set of pre-rehearsed sequences,
drawn from Ode to Progress (see Chapter 3); the stock figures appear
in a manner similar to the semi-improvised performances of the
commedia dell’arte. Afterwards, the disabled community presented
songs and dances. Although the Odin actors and Barba sat and
watched the others’ offerings, it was addressed to the assembled
spectators, some of whom are of course connected to participants.
Here, short encounters and exchanges make the barter over time,
but, as elsewhere, further elements could be combined to make a
more defined, final performance.

Barter: Italy
Because of its history over some decades, barter has to a large extent
become a methodology. It is possible to conceive of long-term,
complex barter activities and to envisage the form that the outcome
might take. This was the case in Torino, Italy in 2005, when Kai
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 139

Bredholt led a project that brought together several groups, centred

on the Villa Primule home for the elderly.
Again, a process of bartering over an initial period occurred.
Groups had to be met, convinced and brought together: for example,
the film documentation shows how a quick rehearsal takes place on
the streets before the actor-musicians enter a local school. The need
to make an entrance, to quietly assail, goes back to the early days of
street performance, when the Odin made an entrance into a town.
As then, noise – calls, music and song – attract attention before the
pupils are able to see the actors. Later, at the Villa Primule home, the
cleaning staff rehearsed a song and students arrived to gather verba-
tim stories from the residents. Straw from a local farm was acquired,
and the school pupils came to the old people’s home to fashion the
straw into objects (for example, one story is about hairdressing, and
in the final barter performance a resident cuts the straw ‘hair’ made
by a pupil).
The final performance appears complex, where different actions
have been woven together, with music and sound often overlaying
the action. It is an assembly of the elements produced over the
period of wider activity, which was rehearsed at the Villa Primule
following a planning meeting, where the barter performance was
mapped out on paper (I have seen this tactic employed when
planning a large-scale parade, something almost impossible to
rehearse and certainly not in situ). The process of rehearsal means
the groups meet and put together their work as a ‘minestrone’: the
plan too is to cook soup to offer all the participants, so the musi-
cians toured the locality, bartering their music for vegetables. But
the barter resulted in a fairly regular performance; an audience
assembled and a familiar, ‘end on’ performance–spectator configu-
ration was used.
Whilst this work in Italy may lose a little of the apparent spontane-
ity of the early days of barter, it has developed into a form of social
action that emphasises encounters within an encounter, a sequence
of moments of mutual generosity that can result in a shared perfor-
mance. Although this is far from the spontaneity that began barter,
improvising a process and working through particular exchanges still
requires quick thinking and flexible performance skills from those
that lead the work. In any case, barter concerns creating the circum-
stances out of which possibilities can emerge.
140 Odin Teatret

Barter: theatre and form

Devising a barter performance out of the actions, memories and

inventions of the participants is central to its sociopolitical aims.
Yet Watson asks, ‘is barter theatre?’ (Watson, 1995, p. 27) and cites
Taviani’s assertion that ‘barter … is not theatre’ (Taviani, 1986,
p. 267). This argument stems from an assumption that ‘theatre’
is an event performed in a conventional theatre space (and prob-
ably indoors). Watson seems to agree that because barter is often
performed outdoors, with no sets, little rehearsal and only partially
delineated characters (Watson, 1995, p. 27), it cannot be theatre.
Although this definition seems a conventional view of theatre
aesthetics (and ignores the fact that many of the Odin’s main per-
formances do not use a set in the traditional sense), Watson rightly
identifies performance as the means of cultural exchange in barter
and suggests it therefore has a link with theatre.
But we need to be a cautious about the apparent absolutes of this
categorisation. In the film In Search of Theatre, Barba contradicts a
definition of theatre as a cultural artefact, and considers theatre
an activity, not an event that needs the traditions of a special
building or the conventions or mechanics of theatre production.
As a performative activity, barter is certainly a type of theatre, but
in his rejection of the trappings of the theatrical, Barba is more
interested to stress its nature as theatre of social action. Elsewhere,
he considers:

what is theatre? If I try to reduce this word to something tangible,

what I discover are men and women, human beings who have
joined together. Theatre is a particular relationship in an elected
context. First between people who gather together in order to cre-
ate something, and then, later, between the creation made by this
group and their public. (Barba, 1988a, p. 292)

What Barba implies is that theatre should not simply be defined

as an aesthetic event that is undertaken in a fixed locale at a fixed
time, to be visited aside from the day-to-day routine. Instead, theatre
is built on the particularity of relationships. Barter is theatre in the
same way that other movements are deemed theatre, such as theatre
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 141

and drama in education, some areas of community or participa-

tory theatre, or therapeutic performance such as Playback Theatre.
Whilst barter can echo a conventional configuration – as in the case
of Torino, for example – these examples are processes of theatre as a
methodology for interaction, the exposition of a problem, point of
view or cultural ideology.
Yet some contemporary barter troubles even these definitions. As a
form of practice, barter enables groups to meet each other in a situ-
ation where performance standards are not prioritised; nevertheless,
an aesthetic of form, or certainly a methodology, has emerged. Most
typically a separate audience gathers, troubling barter’s claims to be
enacted for and by mutual participants. To witness the work of one’s
community as a spectator is of course part of the ethos of barter, but
this can mean that ‘performers’ orientate themselves to a separate
audience in what, I find, is most commonly a concert-like presenta-
tion (Figure 4.3).
Barter may, and in fact often does, appear to take the form of a
pre-planned community performance. Aside from the examples avail-
able on its website, the documentation produced by Odin Teatret
Archives of a barter undertaken in Rome in 2000, Il Gran Baratto

Figure 4.3 Barter in Skarrild village, Denmark, August 2003, with Cuban and
Danish musicians and local choirs. Photo: Kai Bredholt.
142 Odin Teatret

(The Great Barter), shows the occasion to be highly organised, employ-

ing three large wooden stages. Odin Teatret performs parts of Ode To
Progress and various local groups are involved, including singers, danc-
ers, drummers and a group of older people who line dance to great
applause. Although some of these participants observe each other from
the audience, there are clearly other spectators who attend to watch and
support their peers. Of course, some of those groups which are rooted in
performance as such (the singers or dancers, for example) may benefit
from a greater audience than they might normally be able to attract,
but it is less easy to claim that this barter is for its active participants in
a situation of equitable exchange. Vocabulary also highlights this; often
talk of ‘making’ a barter is heard, not ‘holding’ one. It is this formal or
structured aspect to barter that also links it to Festuge.
Rather than comprising geographically localised contributions,
barters can also be a holding framework for fragments of wider
cultural performance forms. The barter held as part of the Umeå
ISTA in 1995 is also documented on film and is an especially good
example of the possibilities and problems of the size and format of
some barters (ISTA Umeå).9 The event takes place in a large audito-
rium, with fairly slick lighting. It begins with offers by local Swedish
groups, such as traditional dance and a gymnastics organisation, as
well as music groups. Later, the ISTA performers, including Sanjukta
Panigrahi (1944–97; see Chapter 5) perform. The occasion is barter in
that each performs and receives a short performance in return, but,
not least given the relative polish of the event, this is a presentation
to a large audience, seated in traditional rows of seating. Whilst,
again, who this event is for is debatable, it is also interesting as it
particularly destabilises Theatre Anthropology’s claims to cross-form
comparison at the level of the pre-expressive. This barter is a per-
formance assembly and points to the later composite, multicultural
productions, most strongly evidenced by Ur-Hamlet (see Chapter 5).

Festuge

Festuge means ‘festival’, or ‘festive week’. The latter translation is

perhaps more helpful in understanding the ethos of Festuge. As
Watson notes, Festuge is not ‘yet another major European interna-
tional festival. This is a community event, a festive occasion for the
people of Holstebro’ (Watson, 1995, p. 179). Although many visiting
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 143

professional artists take part, Watson’s comment suggests the localised

aims of Festuge and, by extension, how audiences are drawn predomi-
nantly from the town’s population (information and publicity also
tends to appear late on and is principally in Danish). To think of
Festuge as an occasion is, then, a little misleading; it is a set of events,
of varying size and form, which often happen simultaneously.
The content of each Festuge is diverse; as well as more regular
theatre performance, parades, music concerts, exhibitions, street
theatre, discussions and even markets are included. Some events are
highly organised, some more polished than others, some (such as the
parades or when different groups’ actions are combined) cannot be
pre-rehearsed and rely on a healthy dose of improvisation. But whilst
they may have a rough-and-ready aesthetic, these semi-planned per-
formances are full of energy, with a palpable community spirit.
Despite the town of Holstebro’s relatively small size,10 it is impos-
sible to see everything. A particular focus is provided by central
venues, such as the library or, in 2008, the specially constructed
Halmtorvet or ‘straw square’ (an idea used in the Torino barter proj-
ect) (Figure 4.4). A final performance usually takes place, involving
all participants. Conversely, some of the smaller events – when cer-
tain groups work with local schools, for example – are not meant for
public consumption, but for those directly involved. But whilst there
is a sense of the deliberate anonymity or fleetingness of some of the
activities – even the guerrilla-like tactics of interventions (some of
the more outlandish include taking postcards to postal workers at
4 a.m. one year, or, in 2008, parading at the army barracks very early
one morning) – an awareness of Festuge’s events inevitably accumu-
lates as the week progresses, as do audience numbers.
During Festuge, diverse groups that do not normally interact are
placed in new relationships with each other because of a mutual
agreement to perform; just like barter, this means groups are also
each other’s spectators. Framing, interweaving and juxtaposition are
key dramaturgical and scenic tactics or aesthetic strategies through-
out Festuge, as is intervention and the use of unconventional per-
formance spaces. Parts of the town are the loci of performance on
occasion too, suggesting that a community’s environment, not its
people, is the subject of spectatorship.
The paradox at work at the heart of Festuge is that to remain con-
scious of, and foreground, individuated identity is also necessarily to
144 Odin Teatret

Figure 4.4 The straw square, Holstebro Festuge 2008. Photo: Adam J. Ledger.

make links, an overt intention of the festive week. As well as creating

a performance occasion, two things are possible here: firstly, every
group can take their work into a new situation in order to render
it visible – or strange, in the Brechtian sense – and, secondly, par-
ticipants might see each other anew, or indeed for the first time. At
Festuge, some of what is offered is typical theatrical performance, but
some elements are displays of everyday pursuits in new, performative
configurations. Something to be considered here is how everyday
skill or virtuosity becomes ‘performance’.
A discussion that incorporates the views of a critical mass of par-
ticipants is not so easy. This is partly due to the issue of language
on my part, but also because such data is difficult to gather because
of the sheer numbers that take part in Festuge. Not many written
responses exist: Ulrik Skeel, a former actor and now administrator
at Odin Teatret explains: ‘all the involved are quite ordinary people,
not used to reports and other writings. So mainly they express their
feelings and experiences verbally on the spot’ (Skeel, 2009). Were
it possible reliably to gather verbally based data, this might reveal
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 145

interesting areas of response; however, this discussion does refer to

some brief (anonymised) evidence from those who have taken part
in several Festuger11 and the view of one set of participants who per-
formed at the Halmtorvet.

Festuge: growth, structure

Festuge’s sociopolitical agenda relies on the framework of perfor-
mance and the festive to collide apparently disparate professional
and amateur organisations in order to facilitate interaction between
them. Broadly, Odin Teatret suggests that Festuge aims

to bring together various local milieus which do not normally

interact, establishing collaborations and mutual innovative proj-
ects that are surprising and may be seen as expressions of organised
performance. Sports clubs, cultural and educational institutions,
churches and their parishioners, ethnic and religious minorities,
the military, business and commercial associations, hospitals and
care homes … (Odin Teatret, 2011n)

As can be seen, the range of community organisations that participate

is diverse and, from the outset, the concept of community exchange
is defined in its widest sense: between nationalities and ethnicity, age,
trade and institution. Overall, the claim is that to draw together what
a variety of organisations and institutions offer, placing this in the
overarching Festuge event, can heighten an awareness and recogni-
tion of the apparently invisible aspects of a shared community.
The exact origins of Festuge are not straightforward; its inception
is not simply a feature of Barba’s practice or thinking, as suggested
by Watson (Watson, 1995, p. 179). The impetus came from the
town’s cultural institutions, which wished to give something to Odin
Teatret on the occasion of its twenty-fifth anniversary. In response,
the Odin asked each organisation to invite a foreigner who had lived
and worked in Denmark; many figures such as prominent musicians,
painters, conductors and writers became involved in the initiative
in Holstebro. The title of this initial gathering, ‘We received them’,
mirrors Odin Teatret’s own position as a group of immigrants into
the small town and became a manifestation of the Odin’s gratitude
for the town’s welcome. A wider comment is also embedded in this
action: at the time, a number of more xenophobic political parties
146 Odin Teatret

became active in Denmark, so what is, in effect, the display of

mutual resistance to such tendencies is significant.12
Although Festuge has its roots in this smaller festival of 1989, when
Hotel Pro Forma13 were invited to create a core performance around
which were placed the smaller ‘interventions’ by Odin Teatret and
other local organisations, Odin Teatret was not immediately will-
ing to develop the idea of Festuge. Nevertheless, the reaction to the
initial gathering was extremely positive and, perhaps, surprising to
the Odin. Barba subsequently secured a significant grant, originally
destined for a television project, in order to develop the 1991 Festuge
and begin what has become a tradition. Subsequently, there have
been six further Festuger at irregular intervals: in 1993, 1998, 2001,
2005, 2008 and 2011. The Odin has emerged as the leader in each,
though many activities take place that are organised by others.
Although the local community is heavily involved, Odin’s members
sometimes have a particular responsibility for a venue, performance
or set of events. Barba has stated that this is ‘important for the group’
(Barba, 2008a), presumably because each actor can realise something
s/he feels is important. In 2008, for example, actors Kai Bredholt
and Donald Kitt coordinated performances at the Halmtorvet, which
interwove the contributions of several local groups and included the
visiting Polish group Teatr Zar. Elsewhere, Roberta Carreri organised a
marathon 24-hour set of music concerts, and Iben Nagel Rasmussen
worked with the group Bridge of Winds, who gave performances and
participated in barters. Frans Winther, the Odin’s composer, created
and directed a musical work that was performed by local people in a
disused warehouse. Although spreading the Odin actors and musicians
out into the community as key figures is an effective organisational
mechanism, the strategy also links back to Odin Teatet’s longer-term
development as an example of group theatre (Barba, 1979, p. 26),
where each member is responsible for achieving mutual goals.
As with barter, Festuge must be viewed in the context of Barba’s
broader belief in the social necessity of theatre, something Barba
stresses in his own reflection on Festuge (Barba, 1999a, pp. 147–55).
Following the first Festuge in 1991, he considers:

what happened this week is something very new to me and

my companions from Odin Teatret. Yet it also evokes flavours
familiar to us. … Seventeen years ago, after ten years of giving
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 147

performances behind closed doors for a few dozen spectators, we

burst out into the streets and squares … And from there we then
toured much of the planet, bartering theatre. … Now we have
made the journey in our own home. (Barba, 1999a, pp. 151–2)

Barba usefully places the comparatively recent phenomenon of

Festuge in the context of Odin’s development, stressing how barter
and Festuge are active forces, ‘journeys’ that can take place even in
the group’s home town. As Jane Turner also notes (Turner, 2004,
p. 24), Barba has described Festuge as ‘an orgy of barters’ (Barba,
1999a, p. 97). Although this doesn’t do justice to the amount and
scale of organisation involved, nor how (unlike in some examples of
barter) Festuge’s spectators primarily operate in the normative sense,
it suggests the simultaneity of encounters and how Festuge extends
and develops the concept and practice of barter through the number
of participants, the multiplicity of action, and the diversity of the
groups involved.
Since its beginnings, each Festuge has taken a broad theme as its
title in order to place the many activities in some kind of context.
The 1991 Festuge was called ‘Culture Without Borders’, taking as its
subtitle ‘The Danish Columbus’, suggesting Danes who had travelled
abroad and returned home bringing something of their experiences
with them. In homage to shared ancestry, a longboat was constructed
on the roof of a supermarket building by Hotel Pro Forma and was
later buried in a final, ritualistic ceremony. The theme also evokes
Odin Teatret’s own history and cultural perspectives, especially,
again, the Odin’s paradigm of the importance of remaining ‘foreign’
as a creative strategy (Barba, 1979, p. 116).
Interculturalism formed a central question and practice for the 1993
Festuge, entitled ‘Mixed Marriages – Knud Rasmussen’ (Rasmussen is
a mixed-race Arctic explorer, well known in Denmark). Building on
the 1991 event, this drew in more international performers than the
first Festuge, most significantly demonstrated in the main produc-
tion, directed by Barba. This was an operatic version of the Sanskrit
play Shakuntala, which included the Odin actors, local performers
(especially the music school) and Barba’s long-term collaborator,
the Indian dancer Sanjukta Panigrahi, as well as the Peruvian group
Yuyachkani.14 Usually, two international groups are now invited to
the Festuge.
148 Odin Teatret

A further example of an intermingling of definitions of cultures

and subsequent performance possibilities occurred in the 1998
Festuge, ‘At the World’s End’. To reflect this, a group of interna-
tional artists created a joint performance called The Island of the
Labyrinths. Directed by Larsen, this performance took place over four
days on a floating stage, and incorporated several local schools and
organisations. Teatro Taller from Colombia were one of the visiting
international groups, which furthered this Festuge’s aim of an overt
interweaving of international artists.
The 2001 Festuge, ‘Tooth of Time’, again showed the ambitions of
the project. Amongst the participating groups, the Odin invited the
Italian company Teatro Potlach to participate. It is in Odin Teatret’s
description of this Festuge that Holstebro’s citizens are acknowledged
as not only performers, but were – and remain – ‘organisers … help-
ers and spectators’ (Odin Teatret, 2011n). To return to the concept
and activity of barter, this reinforces that to do something other than
performing is also to undertake an active role.
Finally, in 2005, ‘The Splendour of the Ages’ was used as an over-
arching title for another busy set of events, which began with an ini-
tial performance at the town hall. Winther’s opera about Ezra Pound
featured, and the Italian group Teatro Tascabile, old friends of Odin,
returned. Larsen again directed a central performance, and Teatro
Atalaya, from Spain, performed a sequence of episodes throughout
Holstebro.

Festuge 2008
The title of the 2008 Festuge was ‘Light and Dark’, a title occasionally
loosely interpreted by some groups, and perhaps thematically weaker
than earlier titles. The central performance was Barba’s own produc-
tion, The Marriage of Medea (see Chapter 5), which included three of
Odin Teatret’s actors ( Julia Varley, Tage Larsen and Augusto Omolú),
the Balinese Pura Desa Gambuh ensemble, and 30 participants from
several countries who had joined Odin as part of a month’s work-
shop, led by Barba, Varley, Larsen and Omolú. This group became the
‘Jasonites’, cast in The Marriage of Medea as the followers of Jason.
Aside from their involvement in the performance, the Jasonites
took part in interventions. These events occurred at various loca-
tions, institutions, buildings or businesses. Often, accumulated
performance material that had been developed over the previous
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 149

workshop weeks could be used, effectively recycling dances, song,

sound and action as a form of disruptive spectacle. Elsewhere, the
Jasonites engaged in barters, some noisy and public, others more
private and sometimes in extremely sensitive situations. At the local
hospital’s psychiatric department, for example, patients prepared
songs in response to the Jasonites’ gentle musical presence. In all
these cases, performance is taken to the local population, at once
unsettling and changing normative behaviour, yet conceived as an
event that ultimately becomes mutual.

Performance
As I more fully explore in Chapter 5, in his distinction between ‘daily’
and ‘extra daily’ (Barba, 1995, p. 7; Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 7),
Barba suggests that what we (generally) do in our ‘daily’ lives is not
appropriate to the mode, quality or virtuosity of behaviour that charac-
terises performance as an ‘extra-daily’ practice. Performance may have
a level of skill or technique; for Marvin Carlson, for example, perfor-
mance is ‘the physical presence of trained … human beings’ (Carlson,
2004, p. 3). Clearly, the actor, musician or dancer may possess manifest
performance skill or undertake virtuosic practices, which are complex
and far from ‘daily’ behaviour. For others who would not normally con-
sider what they do as ‘performance’, placing everyday activities within
a performance frame (including, at the 2008 Festuge, dog trainers put-
ting their animals through drills in Frans Winther’s piece) means that
the (daily) virtuosity of these local people can become performance, an
extra-daily activity that, to return to Carlson, is an ‘activity carried out
with a consciousness of itself’ (Carlson, 2004, p. 4).
It is action shown publicly that must reveal, or celebrate, fellow
members of the community and their abilities. As Barba explains,
‘the numerous small sub-cultures of Holstebro, once exposed, dem-
onstrated that it was one’s next door neighbour who was truly exotic’
(Barba, 1999a, p. 150, original emphasis). Although, as Chapter 5
also discusses, notions of the exotic can be troubled, Barba appears
positively to exoticise, drawing attention to what may be unusual,
intriguing, paradoxically familiar but ‘other’. This assumes, of course,
that to heighten perception of something through performance is
also to raise its importance.
The outdoor Halmtorvet, led by Bredholt, provides the clearest
example of a framing device within which to interweave practices in
150 Odin Teatret

order to shape a complete performance where everyday work could

feature (see Figure 4.4 above and Figure 4.5). Its straw bales were
reconstructed daily at 7 a.m. to change the spatial configuration.
Each day, a different, high-sided auditorium was built to house a new
performance, which was assembled by combining what was offered
by that day’s particular participants. The Polish Teatr Zar were a con-
stant presence, and were joined by a host of groups, such as children
from the ballet school, members of a day centre for the elderly,

Figure 4.5 Holstebro Festuge 2008. Photo: Adam J. Ledger.

 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 151

motorcyclists, folk dancers, the clowns from the visiting Balinese

troupe and Holstebro tai kwon do club. Animals too appeared: stu-
dents from the agricultural school brought a calf, and a small flock
of sheep greeted spectators on one occasion.
As a dramaturgical structure, intertwining disparate components
became an effective strategy; here, the purpose and activity of each
of the local organisations is constantly drawn attention to through
juxtaposition. Clearly, some groups’ activities can be considered
normative, theatrical performance (the various types of dance, for
example, or the work of musicians) and, in these cases, pre-rehearsed
segments were used; some were more akin to demonstrations. Thus
the revving of the local woodcutters’ chainsaws was placed alongside
the Bridge of Winds song, just as the roar of motorbikes bartered
with Teatr Zar’s close harmony; two children from the ballet school
made their way delicately through the tai kwan do’s drill; a barter of
rhythms ensued between the visiting kathak dancer and the ubiqui-
tous Italian clown astride his hobby horse; and one of the tai kwan
do group’s leaders kicked the Balinese gong, traditionally sounded to
start a performance. As well as the differences in performance form,
most obviously culturally, in these cases the juxtaposition of rhythm,
volume and quality of energy occur as performance choices.
As I have suggested, some participants’ skills are not always per-
formance in a normative, theatrical sense, but, in a further example
of performance strategy, become so through decisions in staging. At
the straw square, aside from the performance assembly, figures were
deliberately placed around the auditorium. For example, as the per-
formance went on, the martial artists appeared high up on the straw
walls. A girl performed a ballet routine at the barre, but was hoisted
aloft on a straw bale by a tractor. On another occasion, a poet read
with the aid of a radio microphone; it took a few moments to spot
him, perched amidst the spectators. Since a straightforward point of
view for spectators is resisted and we are made to look, these tactics
draw attention to and frame what is presented, and the daily activity
of participants takes on the quality of performance through a scenic
or spatial consideration.
Although Festuge is a community event, there are limits to partici-
pants’ agency. The several different combinations of performance at
the straw square relied on the Odin actors to run events, with very lit-
tle rehearsal once groups arrived. Whilst the content of each group’s
152 Odin Teatret

offering may have been the participants’ choice, the Odin’s theatre
specialists organised the dramaturgy. During the performances,
almost continuous cueing and, occasionally, trouble-shooting became
a form of present-tense directing (much like an orchestral conductor);
this strategy also sometimes occurs in the joint section of a barter. But
whilst agency in terms of the overall performance (in respect of form
at least) is apparently not open to participants, the responsibility for
its success is, equally, not theirs. One group of participants praises
the organisers’ ‘incredible calmness and overview of everything’.
Crucially, the decision to take part, yet to allow others to shape the
overall performance, is seen as a positive choice.
The dramaturgical structure supplied by the Odin actors’ outside
agency also means that the performance has the potential for repeti-
tion (each day’s performance took place three times). To be able to
repeat turns daily activity into conscious performance. Returning
to Barba’s consideration of what constitutes ‘extra-daily’, all of
the Festuge participants develop the possibility that the body can
‘assume a particular skeleton/skin – that is, a particular scenic behav-
iour, a particular use of the body, a specific technique – and then to
remove it’ (Barba, 1995, p. 7). Whether tending an animal, operating
a machine, dancing or singing, it is participants’ deliberate actions,
what is performed, and the decision to perform ‘a specific technique’
in front of others at a particular place and a number of times that
constitutes the extra-daily of the performance event.

Circus at the Edge

Through his work, Kai Bredholt has emerged as a key figure in the
organisation of community performances and, having built up sig-
nificant experience in this area of work, has been able to conceive
of new ways of bringing together various approaches to community-
based practices, which, in the twenty-first century, continue to blur
definitions of barter and Festuge, and questions of theatre, performa-
tivity and process.
In late July and early August 2009, Bredholt ran a project with Mario
Barzaghi that took place at Bovbjerg lighthouse on the west coast of
Jutland, about a 50-minute drive from Holstebro. It is a stunning
setting, with magnificent views over the sea and, when I attended,
a spectacular sunset.
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 153

The ‘edge’ refers to the geographical location of the lighthouse, on

the cliffs of Jutland next to the North Sea, but might also suggest this
relatively isolated community engaged in performance activity at the
edge of a country. To conceive also of the performance as a ‘circus’
suggests both its form as a collection of fragments and that circus-like
acts such as acrobatics and clowning, as well as the humane inclu-
sion of agricultural animals, would feature. As in other examples,
music and song was included, often linking or underscoring action.
In discussion, Bredholt concedes that the auditorium space, cre-
ated by stacking up straw bales, is inspired by the 2008 Festuge’s
Halmtorvet, but he goes on to root the work in barter, since

I started with the idea of making barters … I’ve made hundreds of

barters in my twenty years with Odin. I like the work, but at the
same time I always feel that people only understand when we sing
the last song, even if I’ve explained; people understand ‘ah, that is
what we were able to do with a barter’. (Bredholt, 2009)

Whilst insisting on process, Bredholt seems to be searching for a

means whereby inexperienced participants can more readily grasp
how barter might result in a performance assemblage. Unlike the
Halmtorvet, the Bovbjerg project did not have a new set of people
each day. Bredholt could thus move away from that daily process of a
relatively loose first performance that would lead to a more polished
final version, to, here, a more sustained quality of work. This project
also demonstrates a different model to other examples since an extra
layer or strand of participant appears. Because the project was in part
conceived as a pedagogical situation, other members took part as
workshop participants – significantly and unusually only ten – each
of whom paid quite a modest fee that also included accommoda-
tion. So a method at the heart of this project is the involvement of
a core group who could help sustain what the entire group created
collectively.
As a workshop, an implicit aim was to offer the ten participants,
who came from several countries, an experience that they might
repeat through their own work once home. But, given their number,
these performer-participants were perhaps also more exposed than
in other pedagogical situations; my own perception as a spectator
was that mixed abilities were more evident than, say, participants’
154 Odin Teatret

strongly ensemble work in The Marriage of Medea or Ur-Hamlet (dis-

cussed in Chapter 5). But Japanese dance appeared and one Spanish
participant created a clown figure, who exploited miscomprehen-
sion during audience participation as she switched between Spanish,
English and a few learnt Danish phrases; in this latter case, ‘circus’
relies on the performers’ collective internationalism.
As I have suggested during the discussion of Festuge, the inherent
skill of community participants can be integrated into performance.
Bredholt sees such possibilities as better than having a professional
cast, believing that ‘if I had an actor to drive the tractor it would take
a week to take away his acting!’ (Bredholt, 2009). The reality and actu-
ality of the local community’s work and skills is, at certain instances,
all that is needed for the performance. On the other hand, Bredholt
is careful to say ‘it’s not my project, it is our project’ (Bredholt, 2009)
and stresses the care needed in truly working together; he explains:
‘you have to seduce them, to show them that you are organised;
you cannot push them, you have to go slowly and listen’ (Bredholt,
2009). Bredholt exhibits great skill and perception here; from experi-
ence, he wants the work to be on equal terms.
The nature of the performance as a community project heightens
the sense of gathering and expectation beforehand, since, as well
as the unavoidable impact of the setting, this is not a gathering to
watch a performance in a theatre building; spectators often know
each other and those involved in the performance. At Bovbjerg, as
in other examples, some spectators were vociferous, clearly enjoying
what their friends and family where getting up to.
The skill of the non-actors can develop performance possibilities in
ways not available to more regular performance. The most striking and
daring element of the performance involved three actor-participants
enacting a wedding, which involved two participants scaling the
lighthouse (the top of which is some 65 metres above sea level) and
then abseiling back down. This could only be achieved because a local
abseiling group had become involved and could provide equipment,
the necessary training and their participation in the particular scene.
In these sequences, the shared abilities of participants plus the unique
setting of the site could create extraordinary ‘circus’.
In our discussion, I asked Bredholt about the issue (more difficult
to ascertain) of how community groups evaluate their involvement.
Bredholt explains that he watches closely to see how participants
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 155

seem to be feeling and positively enjoys how those involved invent

new things in the performance. This is a kind of practical feedback,
perhaps richer than that extracted from reports and questionnaires.
Ultimately, ‘even when the straw has gone and the others have gone
home, the local people stay here … They may do something like this
again and will have a different view of actors and what acting is’
(Bredholt, 2009).

The performance of place

Like the 2009 ‘Theatre as Interference’ programme, events within

Festuge concern ‘getting under the skin of the daily life’ of Holstebro
(Barba, 2008a); it is this that makes Festuge a ‘transformance’. As
I have suggested, this is seen most forthrightly when performance
can disrupt the social patterns of the town itself, through street the-
atre, by putting on parades and in interventions. In 2008 at the local
fire station, for example, I saw the Jasonites climb onto fire engines,
lifted aloft on ladders, and scale the outbuildings whilst donning the
firefighters’ helmets. Songs were sung and one Jasonite, Yalan Lin
(see Chapter 5) performed a fragment of Taiwanese traditional opera
in the central lot. In a form of simple barter, the firefighters added to
the din by sounding their engines’ sirens in return.
Although the 2008 intervention at the fire station doesn’t quite
fit the definition, the grouping of performance activity I consider
next tended to take place in public places, either in the open air or,
for example, at Holstebro railway station. Most precisely, this genre
and purpose of performance can be grouped together because it is
intended for whoever happens to be passing by.
When performance is proactively taken into the town, implica-
tions of spectatorship arise. Some events may be in a fixed place such
as, in 2008, the regular, short performances in the small square in
front of the old town hall, or in local cafés. Unsuspecting to a degree,
an audience assembles in what becomes an impromptu performance
location. Other performances move, most obviously the parades. As
a travelling performance, the parade can traverse through specta-
tors and may gather an audience as it goes along. In a combination
of these two ideas in 2008, Julia Varley organised a huge parade
through the town on the final Saturday, involving the groups con-
nected to Odin, which paused intermittently to allow short pieces of
156 Odin Teatret

street theatre to take place. In contrast, some performances are for

small groups or even for individuals; at one point, the percussionist
Francesco Agnello15 played for only two people after a shower of rain
(and, earlier, for only a handful of spectators in the early hours of the
morning, candlelit in Holstebro church).
In many of the foregoing examples, a spontaneous gathering of
spectators occurs; these are not fixed events for which a ticket has
to be purchased. To gather spontaneously suggests the discovery of a
common bond and purpose, which, in other contexts – such as the
Odin’s experiences in Peru – can be a threat. Although more devel-
oped, it is this same strategy of creating unexpected spectacle that
occurs in Holstebro. Noise again is a key strategy to attract attention.
Drumming, song and the sound of musical instruments seemed a
constant presence in 2008. Unfamiliar sounds in the air led to strange
sights in the town: figures on stilts and lines of people dressed for
a wedding. Complicating Barba’s notions of the familiar and exotic,
the music of the gamelan signalled the arrival of the Balinese in their
parade through the town, pausing to entertain us with clowning and
puppet shows; in the ‘greyness of Holstebro’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 149),
comedy seems a universal language. Through guerrilla-like tactics,
gatherings such as these find their purpose through the act of perfor-
mance, causing communitas in apparently neutral, public spaces.
When buildings are used, the architecture of the town becomes inte-
grated into performance. An event may be based in a specific area, can
target particular buildings or, to concentrate focus even more, a cho-
sen window, balcony or archway. In one performance, a guide holding
aloft a blue umbrella led a large group of us all over the centre of town.
Loudhailers appeared from top-storey windows, again an example of
how sound is warped beyond the everyday, drawing attention to itself.
A relationship with a group of architects had been formed, gathered at
Holstebro library for a conference, so they spoke about the buildings’
architecture as part of the performance. Next, we were led through
a back garden past a singer and discovered a cello hung from a tree.
Within this travelling performance, clear, still images become striking;
for example, a solitary singer appeared high up on a balcony across the
central square, providing a focused, still point in the overall rhythm
and shape of the performance, which ended when dozens of small
paper houses, each containing a candle, floated along the small river
Storåen, accompanied by a choir on a bridge.
 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge 157

As a scenic strategy, Festuge engages with space and place as cre-

ative possibilities. The architecture and layout of the town itself
becomes performative in the sense that it can be engaged with and
activated aesthetically, rather than in utilitarian fashion. This changes
the typical use of sites and, in turn, requires that an audience look at
the town anew. Again, this is often through deliberately changing the
horizontal point of view of typical theatre performance. Not only do
we have to follow events, but often look up, down, through or across
a distance, rather than at.

‘The people of ritual’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 147)

Through performance, mutual, ‘extra-daily’ activities and locales offer

possibilities for groups to do what are, for other participants and spec-
tators, unusual things. Beyond the town’s inhabitants, other groups
take part in Festuge, who become simultaneously connected to and
foreign to this Danish town. In a social context, this gives each a pres-
ence and status not afforded in day-to-day, disparate existence. This
clashing and blurring of activities moves in what Barba has called,
‘that no man’s land between daily life and the organised performance
situation, between performance and ritual … dissolving the theatre
into the town and absorbing the reality of the town into the theatre’
(Barba, 1999a, pp. 148–9). Here, Barba uses the notion of ritual to sug-
gest daily life; that is, our unconscious, habituated, ritualised behav-
iour. In contrast, Festuge overtly relies on performance – and here also
taking performance into the daily rhythms of the town – not only to
facilitate dialogue and interaction, but also to change perception.
To be part of Festuge is a necessity for Odin and its members’ own
concept of themselves as a group. Indeed, Festuge is seen as a con-
tinuum with the more ‘regular’ work, where the same skills apply:
Larsen has stressed that the organisational issues around Festuge’s
barter-like performances rely on Odin’s theatre skills, explaining that
‘timing is something we are very good at’ (Larsen, 2011). Here, the
seriousness of work is transported into another context, enabling the
success of sometimes hurriedly rehearsed work.
The needs of the community to engage in performance as a means
of visibility seem evident too. It appears that many local organisa-
tions want and need to get involved; many have performed in each
of the Festuger, and continued involvement is a strategy, apparently
158 Odin Teatret

self-conscious, of creating a presence in society. One school reports:

‘Festuge was a field day for the pupils … we got an excellent recep-
tion. … The work with Odin Teatret was very inspiring and the coop-
eration inevitably has an enormous positive impact on our students
in both the long and short term.’ Here, the response from the local
audience is seen as significant, as is the effect of the artistic input of
an external theatre group.
In this discussion, the Halmtorvet has provided one valuable
example of the function of performance context. In that case, pur-
suits are undertaken outside of where they normally would be and
put on display in a simple auditorium. Further aesthetic choices
were obviously made, especially juxtaposition to dissimilar elements,
which may be spatial or dramaturgical. Within the constructed per-
formance arena, each group could perform actions that attest to its
significance within its own community. We, as spectators, are drawn
to watch and, ideally, enjoy activities we would normally not see. By
implication, we are invited to realise the existence and value of each
group in the town’s wider social mechanisms.
In order to be effective, performers and spectators encounter
their surroundings and each other through an agreement to meet
in ‘no man’s land’, which draws together everyday activity and the
possibilities of performance. Festuge relies on social groupings to
change their daily routine and opt into the game. Festuge itself is
most clearly socially effective since, through active participation,
‘the people of ritual’ (Barba, 1999a, p. 147) can alter their norma-
tive social position in order to highlight their everyday (ritualised,
in Barba’s reconfiguration of terms) activities through the reframing
of performance. This is perhaps both its strength and limit; Festuge
stresses participation and visibility, whereas more subtle, longer-term
social change is harder to grasp and quantify.
What a consideration of areas like barter, Festuge and interven-
tions does stress is the importance of the Odin’s theatre as commu-
nication, of trying to contact others. Festuge in particular seems a
remarkable, indeed unique, phenomenon of municipal complicity.
As a performative strategy, barter and Festuge rely on the differences
within society both to make performance and to create networks, or
at least provoke recognition; it resists the blending of a community
into a homogeneous, increasingly global and, paradoxically, invisible
whole.
5
Intercultural Theatre

The area of Eugenio Barba’s work that has led to the most vociferous
critical response is his interest in Theatre Anthropology.1 This is cen-
tred on the International School of Theatre Anthropology (ISTA), an
irregular gathering comprising a selected group of artists drawn from
various forms of performance, Odin Teatret, a group of scholars and a
set of participants. Each ISTA gathering ends with a Theatrum Mundi
performance, directed by Barba, involving all participants.
As elaborated in his The Paper Canoe (Barba, 1995) and, with Nicola
Savarese, A Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology (Barba and Savarese,
2005) (and earlier; Barba, 1982, 1994), Theatre Anthropology seeks
out what are considered common, fundamental principles that
underpin a variety of performance practices. In Barba’s words:

these principles, when applied to certain physiological factors –

weight, balance, the use of the spinal column and the eyes – produce
physical, pre-expressive tensions. These new tensions generate
an extra-daily energy quality which renders the body theatrically
‘decided’, ‘alive’, ‘believable’, thereby enabling the performer’s ‘pres-
ence’ or scenic bios to attract the spectator’s attention before any
message is transmitted. (Barba, 1995, p. 9).

By ‘extra-daily’, Barba means performative behaviour that is more

physically heightened, theatricalised or codified than everyday behav-
iour, which appears in both acting and dance (Barba, 1982, p. 12; see
Christoffersen, 1989b). This also points to his particular interest in
non-Western forms such as Indian Kathakali and Japanese classical

159
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
160 Odin Teatret

theatre. Barba speaks frequently too of ‘acculturated’ technique in

his main writings on Theatre Anthropology, which distinguishes sce-
nic behaviour from everyday, ‘inculturated’ body use. A further defi-
nition is that of the ‘North Pole’ performer, who operates through
fixed points or definitions, yet is ultimately liberated, Barba claims,
by these regulated, disciplined forms. By contrast, the ‘South Pole’
performer is free to base his/her work on daily behaviour but can-
not go beyond their realist-naturalist limits through the absence of
rigorous, formal ‘rules’. Barba does make clear that the methods of
Theatre Anthropology are useful for the Oriental performer (Barba
and Savarese, 2005, p. 7) – a point his critics seem to miss – but he is
quite clearly setting up an oppositional, hierarchical, dualism here.
Despite an undeniable bias towards Asian forms, the work of ISTA,
at least at first, attempted to see through performance to explore,
Barba claims, an ‘empirical territory’ (Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 5;
Barba, 1995, p. 10) concerning fundamental, shared, scenic behav-
ioural principles. These principles are still included in performance,
however, since the ‘pre-expressive substratum is included in the
expression level, in the totality perceived by the spectator’ (Barba
and Savarese, 2005, p. 218). Further analysis of what might be ‘extra-
daily’ rests around key aspects of the alteration of balance, equiva-
lence, opposition and what is termed ‘consistent inconsistency’; this
is an ‘initial lack of adherence to the economy of daily practice …
organised into a new, systematic consistency’ (Barba, 1995, p. 26).
This term, and others, are elaborated by Barba in chapter 3 of his
The Paper Canoe.
As director of ISTA, Barba has been criticised, sometimes harshly so
(Bharucha, 1993), for apparently ignoring the cultural context of per-
formers, choosing instead to isolate and compare certain technical
details on what he sees as the ‘biological level’ (Barba and Savarese,
2005, p. 5). However, in The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology,
Barba does not accept ‘the need to analyse scientifically what the
performer’s language consists of’ (Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 151),
but instead offers ‘useful directions’ or ‘bits of good advice’ (Barba
and Savarese, 2005, p. 6). Thus Barba explains how he attempts not
to think in terms of boundaries or borders, but as a ‘geologist, trying
to find shared layers’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 23) that all per-
formers may benefit from. Barba’s work in Theatre Anthropology has
provoked much discussion around its purpose: supporters find value
 Intercultural Theatre 161

in its premise and the practical work of ISTA; equally, the opponents
of Theatre Anthropology view Barba’s tactics as a culturally exclusive
pseudo-science.
As Janne Risum also identifies, I consider in this chapter that
ISTA’s priorities have developed. Risum reflects, ‘I miss the old days
of research (Risum, 1996, p. 155). Especially since the publication of
The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology, which presented the results of
early ISTAs, the basic research imperative has shifted to a focus on
the dynamic exchanges within the meeting itself, which has become
a place of teaching and learning, the presentation of performances,
activities like barters and the final Theatrum Mundi performance.
ISTA is, more than ever, of immediate concern to those actually taking
part, giving rise to the frequent metaphors of, for example, a ‘village’,
‘family’ or ‘circus’ (e.g., Risum, 1996; Taviani, 1996a; Varley, 1996).
Going further, I particularly want to explore how the creation
of major Theatrum Mundi performances independently of ISTA,
namely The Marriage of Medea (2008) and Ur-Hamlet (first performed
2006), have moved on from Theatre Anthropology’s fundamental
aims. I consider how The Marriage of Medea and Ur-Hamlet do not con-
cern the isolation of transcultural similarity at the level of fundamen-
tal technique, but are performances in which explicit difference of
genre is maintained within homogenous productions. They are not
about comparison or analysis, but the juxtaposition of genres side
by side. So these major Theatrum Mundi productions are, I think,
multicultural performances that flip Theatre Anthropology’s remit of
the ‘geological’ to the global of the theatre event.
Both The Marriage of Medea and Ur-Hamlet are also performed
outdoors.2 For Ur-Hamlet, a more or less circular performance space
is created by lanterns, although the audience is seated on seating
banks which do not make a full circle, so that musicians can gather
at one side of the space. The Marriage of Medea is more informal. The
performance took place in an open area at Holstebro golf club, with
spectators seated on a natural slope, but pretty much face on to the
action. Although Odin Teatret has long performed outdoors, in the
context of multicultural work this development stems from the 1987
ISTA in (see Taviani, 1996b, p. 72) and is clearly a directorial choice
on Barba’s part to do with scale.
International performers also applied to take part in the later
performances as workshop participants: in Ur-Hamlet, this group
162 Odin Teatret

comprise the ‘Foreigners’ (drawn from some 21 countries in the 2009

Wroclaw version), figures who seek refuge in Hamlet’s castle, but are
infected by the plague, one of the forces of destruction in the piece;
in The Marriage of Medea, the participants became the ‘Jasonites’, the
followers of Jason. Although some of the content of Ur-Hamlet has
particular roots in ISTA sessions, where early performance sequences
were developed, this participatory or pedagogic model is directly
drawn from the ISTA meetings where participants act as a kind of
chorus or ensemble in the Theatrum Mundi performances.
Despite her earlier reservations (Turner, 1997), Jane Turner has
offered an extended, positive analysis of the Theatrum Mundi per-
formance of Ego Faust at the 2000 ISTA (Turner, 2004), which is itself
partly based on Pavis’s defence of Barba via a semiotic model (Pavis,
2003). But much earlier discussion of Theatre Anthropology’s practices
cannot get beyond polarised critical views around, on the one hand,
Barba’s emphatic and insistent ‘empiricism’ and, on the other, those
who criticise his apparent neglect of cultural context. In this chapter,
attention should, I think, be paid to the vexed critical situation as
early debates quickly expose what Barba intends and how he goes
about it, and the reservations others have expressed. This provides
context for much later developments on which I want to focus.
Although I have sympathy with both sides of what has previously
become a rather entrenched debate, going over old ground must
give way, here, to an examination of Odin Teatret’s connection with
ISTA, as opposed to just Barba’s. ISTA is now part of the Nordisk
Teaterlaboratorium (as noted too by Christoffersen, 1989b, p. 48) and
has, over several meetings, more fully connected to the Odin Teatret
actors, who teach alongside the ‘Asian masters’ (as they are styled)
of various performance forms. This has reinforced the pedagogic
imperative of ISTA, which, despite the limits of time, includes classes
in various traditions, as many reports describe. The Odin actors also
perform in Theatrum Mundi performances. I include some discussion
of what members of the Odin feel they have gained as actors from
working with ISTA’s extended, if temporary, artistic community.

ISTA

In the new millennium, there have been three ISTAs. The 2000
ISTA in Bielefeld, Germany, concerned ‘Action, Structure,
 Intercultural Theatre 163

Coherence: Dramaturgical Techniques in the Performing Arts’. I

attended the symposium section of the 2004 ISTA in Seville and
Rinconada, Spain, entitled ‘Flow: Rhythm, Organicity, Energy’
(see Ledger, 2005). The 2005 ISTA was held in Wroclaw and
Krzyzowa, Poland, and explored ‘Improvisation: Memory, Repetition,
Discontinuity’. These themes are decided by Barba.
Since 1990, a further arena for practice and discussion has been
created, the University of Eurasian Theatre. These annual meetings
are a collaboration between the University of Bologna, members of
Odin Teatret and some of the ISTA personnel, and, more latterly,
Teatro Proskenion (Italy). The University of Eurasian Theatre shares
many of the concerns of ISTA and is considered a parallel activ-
ity to it, though only takes place in Italy and in Italian. Whilst it
has a more defined organisation frame, the University of Eurasian
Theatre is looser in structure than the punishing schedules of the
ISTA sessions, which run from the early morning until late at night,
although, unlike ISTA, is held annually for around a week at a time.
Barba has written on Eurasian theatre (Barba, 1988b; this article also
appears in the programme to Judith) and Nicola Savarese has a very
large book on the subject (Savarese, 2010).
The key conceptual progression Eurasian Theatre proposes from
Theatre Anthropology’s pre-expressive focus is that of a common
point of reference in actual performance, in which there exist ‘spec-
tators capable of following or accompanying the actor in the dance
of thought-in-action’ (Barba, 1988b, p. 129). As Barba suggests, it is
the event of theatre, the actor-dancer’s energy, or scenic bios, which
attracts the spectators’ attention as a lived experience, not the pres-
ence of text, narrative or character that, Barba claims, so dominates
the Western tradition (Barba, 1988b, p. 127). But as Janne Risum
states, ‘strictly speaking, there is no such thing as an Eurasian the-
atre’ (Risum, 1996, p. 153); thus its activity is not a pan-continental
reality but, as the description on the Odin Teatret’s website asserts,
‘a mental dimension, an active idea which has inspired the theatre
of our century. This concept implies the experiences which for all
artists, whatever their cultural origins, constitute the essential points
of reference for their theatre practice’ (Odin Teatret, 2011k). That
Eurasian theatre is specifically a ‘mental dimension’ also suggests
that it is concerned with a concept of mutual understanding, inheri-
tance or legacy.
164 Odin Teatret

The interrelated areas of ISTA, Theatrum Mundi and Eurasian

Theatre assume that certain common elements are present or pos-
sible in the performative human body aside from language, national-
ity, cultural background, gender, or indigenous theatrical technique.
However, Theatre Anthropology’s focus on the ‘pre-expressive’ is
not necessarily a new area of study. The chapter on ‘Historiography’
in The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology suggests its long existence
(Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 164), though one form of the pre-
expressive, psycho-technique, has dominated Western performer
training. In that case, we neglect, Barba suggests, basic levels or pos-
sibilities of corporeal organisation that can lead to muscular relation-
ships and somatic networks: examples include the keras and manis
(strong and soft) relationship in Balinese dance styles (Figure 5.1), or
the basic tribhangi spinal shape in Indian dance. There are Western
forms that function in terms of ISTA: Meyerhold’s biomechanics, the
commedia dell’arte and ballet are covered. Barba also has an interest
in Decroux’s work: Tom Leabhart is a regular ISTA collaborator and a
direct pupil of Decroux. Although Barba doesn’t mention it, a more

Figure 5.1 I Wayan Bawa teaching at the 2005 Wroclaw ISTA. Photo:
Francesco Galli.
 Intercultural Theatre 165

contemporary example might be the teachings of Jacques Lecoq,

which stress the pre-expressive potential of the body’s interrelated-
ness with, for example, movement principles, materials and styles of
performance.3
The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology: The Secret Art of the Performer
offers a kind of taxonomy of the actor’s technique. Parts focus on
physical aspects such as ‘Face and Eyes’ or ‘Rhythm’, especially since
in more codified forms the pre-expressive can include the detail of
how the fingers are used, how the limbs work in opposition to each
other, or common ground such as the ‘rules’ of expression in Japanese
Kubuki or Butoh. Theoretical reflections such as ‘Historiography’ or
the broadly semiotic analysis of ‘Views’ are also included. A signifi-
cant and engaging aspect of the work is the several hundred illustra-
tions, diagrams and photographs, which exemplify practice.
Theatre Anthropology itself has been principally critiqued in
relation to what extent Barba and his collaborators can, or should,
ignore the cultural context of a performer’s work (Zarrilli, 1988a).
Mian Tian’s offers a detailed discussion and specifically concerns the
Chinese theatre’s relationship to the West (Tian, 2008). Elsewhere,
Franc Chamberlain (2000) points out that Barba’s ‘First Hypothesis’
(which appears in Barba, 1986) clearly links Theatre Anthropology
with the sociocultural context of particular forms of performance
and the wider field of anthropology. As Chamberlain observes,
when The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology appeared (in 1991 in
English), the ‘ambiguous references to a socio-cultural level [were]
removed, but seem to have taken with them any explicit reference
to anthropology if we understand anthropology of whatever sort as
necessarily paying attention to socio-cultural context’ (Chamberlain,
2000, p. 176). The term ‘anthropology’, with its wider connotations,
is unfortunate, but, rather carefully, the latest edition defines its
enquiry as ‘the study of human beings’ socio-cultural and physi-
ological behaviour in a performance situation’ (Barba and Savarese,
2005, p. 6, my emphasis). Emphases appear to have shifted to what
Chamberlain posits as ‘the phenomenology of the actor’s presence’
(Chamberlain, 2000, p. 176).
In a more recent interview, Barba says that ‘ISTA taught me to
see’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 26). But in his extensive report
and critique of the 1986 ISTA meeting, useful in that it deals not
only with the philosophy and practice of Theatre Anthropology but
166 Odin Teatret

expresses frustration from within a particular ISTA session, Phillip

Zarrilli finds Barba’s attitude leads to a reification of Asian perfor-
mance practices. Zarrilli argues that ‘Barba’s vision of the “Oriental”
actor is a composite devoid of sociocultural and historical contexts’
(Zarrilli, 1988a, p. 101), Barba tends to sidestep criticism like this,
writing in direct response to Zarrilli that ISTA ‘is not interested in
specific study of Oriental theatres in their sociocultural contexts … It
is not interested in these matters because it is concerned with some-
thing else, not because it denies the value of these interests’ (Barba,
1988c, p. 13). Delimited by his own definitions, Barba’s deliberate
tactic is to choose to ignore wider issues in order to focus on a prin-
cipally biomechanical analysis of the inculturated body across types
of performance.
One of Barba’s most strident critics has been the Indian writer,
director and dramaturg, Rhustom Bharucha. In his book Theatre and
the World (Bharucha, 1993), Bharucha repeatedly states that Barba
singles out ‘anatomy’ only, which, for Bharucha, creates ‘lifeless’
performance in Odin Teatret’s own work (Bharucha, 1993, p. 57).
Bharucha points out that the English version of The Dictionary
of Theatre Anthropology has been titled The Anatomy of the Actor in
other languages. Bharucha’s polemic is sometimes compelling, but
he repeatedly rests his criticism on the kind of personal assertion
he so derides in Barba; Bharucha persistently calls for a theatre that
expresses ‘life’ and can evoke an emotional response (Bharucha,
1993, pp. 57–8). Yet he does not define what that might comprise
or how it should be achieved. Like the wider critique of Theatre
Anthropology, involving several authors, this sends the argument
further round in circles.
Despite the contradictions in other areas of Barba’s work – Zarrilli
notes that ‘Barba has been a rallying point for the “Third Theatre”,
for those theatre workers excluded from the mainstream; he has
actively supported alternative theatre throughout Europe and Latin
America’ (Zarrilli, 1988a, p. 97) – the implications of his authorial
voice seem most troubling (see also Munk, 1986). For Zarrilli, ‘Barba’s
voice remains single, essential, comprehensive and authoritarian’
(Zarrilli, 1988a, p, 103); the critics point out that intense working
schedules at ISTA further provide no time for discussion in ses-
sions which are dominated by Barba (Zarrilli, 1988a, p. 96; Taviani,
1996a, p. 39). Although very different in tone, Risum’s reflection of
 Intercultural Theatre 167

the 1990 Bologna ISTA also records her frustration at ‘Master Barba’
(Risum, 1996, p. 152). Watson, too, considers the apparently univo-
cal stance adopted by Barba at ISTA, where

the problem is that the shades of authoritarianism which pervade

meetings dominated by its organizer, the inclusion of Asian per-
formers in what appears to be the subservient roles of ‘objects of
study’ by the ‘wise’ Western intellectuals, and the socio-political
domination and submission that both of these hint at, imply a
universal space in which the ghosts of colonialism play no small
part. (Watson, 2002, pp. 23–4)

Although I have defended Barba elsewhere (Ledger, 2005, 2006), I also

suggest, like Zarrilli (Zarrilli, 2002, p. 350, n. 8) that The Dictionary
of Theatre Anthropology can be seen to present a closed narrative, in
which exclusive, incomplete, usually binary views are presented, in
order that the volume can do its work. Further, for his critics, the
definition of ‘empirical’ (Barba, 1995, p. 10) extends only so far as it
might be understood within Barba’s objectives, his sense of himself
and in relation to others. Indeed, the beginning of The Paper Canoe
explicitly links Barba’s biography with ISTA’s professional concerns,
since ‘if memory is knowledge, then I know that my journey has
crossed various cultures’ (Barba, 1995, p. 1). For Barba, as so often in
his directing work, experience, observation, sensation and memory
are reliable enough witnesses at ISTA.
In her refreshingly clear and direct report of the 1995 ISTA in
Sweden, Jane Turner expresses frustration at how strands of research
and discussion were organised at the session, but also questions the
applicability of Theatre Anthropology’s research to performance
(Turner, 1997). Whilst Barba does not explicitly suggest that perfor-
mance enacts the analysis that Theatre Anthropology proposes, this
is clearly a reasonable, pragmatic question of applicability. Although
Barba claims that his observations allow him ‘to find shared layers’
(Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 23), he is, however, under no illusions
as to his potential success with multicultural performers, because
‘the fact that they are from different cultures is not a guarantee of
inventiveness or originality’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 24). This
simultaneously exposes Theatre Anthropology’s possibilities – should
one choose to accept them – as an ontology of the pre-expressive
168 Odin Teatret

across genres, but also Theatre Anthropology’s limits beyond its own
investigative terms of reference.
Even though Turner considers that ‘possibly due to criticism,
Barba has backed himself into a corner’ (Turner, 1997, p. 122), Barba
continues, as might be expected, to affirm Theatre Anthropology’s
worth. In the new century, he asserts, however, that ‘both intercul-
turalism and intraculturalism are false problems, although they are
essential factors within a theatre artist’s personal dynamics of observ-
ing’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 24). In the later work of the new
millennium, a new focus seems to be happening. The minutiae of
Theatre Anthropology’s focus on the pre-expressive has given way to
multicultural performance that has had to break away from both the
concept of Theatre Anthropology and the self-imposed delimitations
of ISTA, and Barba has recently found new opportunities to create
multicultural performance. The Marriage of Medea, for example, took
place at a Festuge in Holstebro not least because it furthered that
occasion’s theme and was also able to take the Balinese out into
the community in a barter situation. This production, as well as the
tough practicalities of the major Ur-Hamlet project, are both removed
from the broader philosophical concerns of Theatre Anthropology
and the alleged imperialism at work at ISTA sessions.

Odin Teatret and ISTA

The creation of ISTA should not imply that the Odin Teatret actors
have always taken part or, because of other priorities, have neces-
sarily wished or been able to participate. The decision to begin ISTA
was Barba’s, in collaboration with his key colleagues at the time such
as Ferdinando Taviani, Nicola Savarese and Franco Ruffini. During
the early period of ISTA, only Toni Cots, who left the Odin in 1984,
participated in the 1980 and 1985 sessions, joined by Tage Larsen for
the 1981 ISTA in Volterra and Pontedera, Italy. A fairly full ensemble
participated in 1987, which has increased and been maintained in
later meetings. However, the actors are curiously absent from the list
of ‘artistic staff’ of the 1986 ISTA in Holstebro, other than Torgeir
Wethal, Iben Nagel Rasmussen and César Brie (Brie left in 1988)
(Odin Teatret, 2011l). That year, most of the actors were involved as
administrators in an ISTA session that was predominantly lecture or
demonstration in style, as opposed to a fuller format that includes
training, conference sessions and performances (Figure 5.2).
 Intercultural Theatre 169

Figure 5.2 Tage Larsen teaching at the 13th ISTA, Seville. Photo: Fiora
Bemporad.

Since the actors have become more fully involved in ISTA, the
inclusion of ensemble Odin Teatret performances has become pos-
sible, such as Mythos and Ode to Progress in 2000, Itsi Bitsi in 2004,
and In the Skeleton of the Whale and Andersen’s Dream in both 2004
and 2005. Although the performances have also formed part of
a wider financial arrangement to make ISTA itself possible (for
example, Andersen’s Dream in 2004), their inclusion means that Odin
Teatret as a company, rather than its individual actors, has developed
a presence at ISTA. In contrast, some of the invited performers or
teachers have been present as solo practitioners, although up until
2000 their wider ensembles and groups of musicians also attended
and were able to give fuller performances. In more recent years, this
arrangement has tended to be possible only for the Balinese troupe.
Nevertheless, historically, the potential for mutual impact between
these now co-existing spheres of work has developed.4
One of the most useful articulations of the connection between
ISTA and the detail of the Odin actor’s wider work is expressed by
170 Odin Teatret

Roberta Carreri (Watson and Carreri, 1996). Carreri allies her train-
ing with certain ISTA ‘masters’ with her development as an actor.
Through ISTA, Carreri met and worked with Katsuko Azuma, a Nihon
Buyo dancer, and the Indian dancer, Sanjukta Panigrahi, a long-
standing member of ISTA. Carreri also worked with Natsu Nakajima
and Kazuo Ohno. Although Carreri describes how, at first, she copied
physical forms from her teachers (Watson and Carreri, 1996, p. 107),
which is a common process in the master–apprentice tradition, she
explains that this training ultimately developed ‘territories of my
body that I didn’t know, territories that I was not aware of’ (Watson
and Carreri, 1996, p. 106). Carreri highlights that because she learnt
to ‘feel the body from inside’ (Watson and Carreri, 1996, p. 106), an
encounter with unfamiliar forms can eventually shift to a physiologi-
cal connection.
Transcultural exchange, Carreri argues, concerns this ‘core’ knowl-
edge (Watson and Carreri, 1996, p. 110), not a particular style of
performance. Her stress on interiority and ‘geological work’ (Watson
and Carreri, 1996, p. 106) echoes Barba’s terminology, of course,
but Carreri explains that the ‘interiorised’ focus creates possibili-
ties in improvisation (Watson and Carreri, 1996, p. 107) and thus
expression in performance. She maintains, however, that conscious
application of learnt technique does not happen, saying, ‘I don’t do
it to show what I know, for the sake of display. … I didn’t know how
I appeared in Judith until I saw the first photographs’ (Watson and
Carreri, 1996, p. 111). The influence of Butoh can certainly be seen
in particular physical positions in Judith, as well as a Japanese influ-
ence on that production’s spare, choreographic aesthetic, and use of
objects such as a fan and bonsai tree. Yet Carreri’s encounter with
various forms has resolved itself into a personal, interior episteme,
from which, she explains, personal expression stems.
Carreri’s teaching also demonstrates roots in ISTA. In her work-
shops and training sessions, there is, for instance, an emphasis on
the elongation of the spine, which, coupled with the strengthening
of the centre by tucking under the coccyx and drawing the abdomi-
nal muscles in and up, is allied to intense eye focus. This comes from
the Kabuki work with Azuma. Conversely, we are also asked to let the
‘snake’ of our spine play and work with a hazy, Butoh-style eye focus.
Although much more compacted than Carreri’s training in Asian
forms, the various teaching points drawn from different traditions
 Intercultural Theatre 171

are harnessed through the continuum of Carreri’s ‘core’ and shaped

into a cohesive experience for the participant.
A more complex cross-fertilisation between ISTA and Odin Teatret
centres on Augusto Omolú. Omolú is an ogan (ceremonial assistant)
in the Afro-Brazilian Candomblé religious tradition.5 The Candomblé
ceremonies or liturgies are concerned with orixá, or gods, each with a
particular energy quality and dance form. It is believed that the gods
inhabit the bodies of participants, who often fall into trance (Varley
provides a particularly rich description of this; Varley, 1996). Omolú
subsequently trained and worked as a ballet dancer and became
involved in ISTA from 1994, where he specifically works on orixá
dance. He joined the Odin in 2002, although works with the group
on a contractual basis rather than permanently. As well as involve-
ment in Theatrum Mundi performances, especially Ur-Hamlet where
he plays Hamlet, Omolú performs in Odin Teatret’s Great Cities Under
the Moon, and appeared in Andersen’s Dream up to its conclusion
in 2011. Omolú also regularly teaches at Odin Teatret, usually in
larger projects such as ‘The Dance of Love’, which prepared material
that was included in the 2011 Festuge. Although Barba’s interest in
Candomblé and the orixá dance stems from the late 1970s, work with
Omolú led to the performance, Orô de Otelo.6
In her analysis of Orô de Otelo, Kirsten Hastrup suggests Omolú
embodies a particular example of ‘new’ intercultural potential
through his artistic and professional ‘creole’ of diverse experience
(Hastrup, 1996, pp. 168–70). The performance combines Omolú’s
orixá dance with elements of the story of Othello, drawn from
Shakespeare as well as Verdi’s opera Otello. The action is accompanied
by Verdi’s music, as well as the Candomblé drums, played by Cleber
Conceição da Paixão, though I have seen a performance where the
drumming was played from a recording (see Figure 5.3). Orô de Otelo
was principally rehearsed in Salvador, Brazil. The process was not
easy: Barba has spoken of his frustration during the development of
the performance, which he had to walk away from at times. Omolú
could not at first understand what Barba required as a director, nor
Barba make clear his intentions to a non-Odin actor. It is Varley who
found ways to work with the new actor, not trained in the Odin tra-
dition (see Varley, 1996, p. 118). Now, the Odin’s vocabulary of, for
example, ‘score’, ‘subscore’ and ‘action’ is readily used by Omolú. He
has offered a new aesthetic to the Odin and to Barba in particular,
172 Odin Teatret

Figure 5.3 Augusto Omolú in Orô de Otelo. Photo: Francesco Galli.

but, even in 2010, Omolú says that, still, he ‘is living a new process,
a path without end’ (Omolú, 2010).
To what extent we really see orixá dance as a direct connection to
Candomblé in Omolú’s work is open to question. In response to my
query at the 2010 Odin Week Festival, Omolú described how it is dif-
ficult even to speak about certain aspects of the Candomblé culture
and ritual, let alone to allow for some of the performative aspects to
be shown, especially out of context. For Hastrup, the success of Orô
de Otelo, though, ‘does not depend on his [Omolú’s] being within a
ritual, but his being in command of its force’ (Hastrup, 1996, p. 170).
Whilst Omolú does speak of his continued interest in creating a more
contemporary Afro-Brazilian dance (see also Varley, 1996, p. 121), the
religious aspects of his work have clearly been suppressed.7 In the case
of Orô de Otelo, Varley writes that

normally each Orixá, the manifestation of a certain type of energy,

is presented separately and for a longer time. … To pass from one
Orixá to the next, or to indicate the passage from one character to
the next, we used the movement of baixavento (the wind drop), the
 Intercultural Theatre 173

dancer’s reaction to the saint descending on him. … ‘Reduction’ was

also useful to disguise those movements which were too descriptive
into actions with other meanings. (Varley, 1996, pp. 118–19)

In complete contrast to Carreri’s practice, form, as well as Odin

Teatret’s technique of condensing an action in time and space, has
taken over here. At worst, there is compromise similar to, as Hastrup
describes, the contemporary ‘performance’ of orixá dance for tourists
(Hastrup, 1996, 170).
Omolú’s work cannot be wholly claimed as part of Candomblé,
a designation which persists, or perceived to exist apparently authen-
tically, in order that ISTA’s ‘geological’, cross-cultural enquiry might
happen. Rather than a kind of simulacrum (to use Hastrup’s word),
we can consider Omolú’s orixá dance as an artistic version of a tradi-
tion. Omolú is someone who has emerged from the circumstances of
ISTA and moved into Odin Teatret. His artistry thus rests on his iden-
tity as a complex performer at the intersection of several cultures, at
once informed by and removed from his experience.
One of the many work demonstrations undertaken by the Odin
Teatret actors is one simply named ‘Theatre Anthropology’, created
in 2010. The demonstration mixes fragments of spoken explanation
with improvised sections. The work demonstration is potentially
flexible, depending on the occasion when it is taking place and who
is available; I have seen it only at Holstebro during the 2010 Odin
Week Festival, where Augusto Omolú joined Julia Varley and Roberta
Carreri, with Jan Ferslev and Frans Winther working as musicians
(Ferslev has been particularly active in bringing musicians together
at ISTA sessions).
The title of the work demonstration is rather misleading, since it is
not about what this chapter has identified as the research aspect of
Theatre Anthropology, which has resulted in a vocabulary of ‘seeing’,
but tends to stress what happens when actors of different traditions
improvise. It is therefore closer to the Odin Teatret’s typical way of
bringing together actors’ materials, in this case the ‘pre-expressive’
base of certain forms, and discovering what might appear as poten-
tial performance material. Fragments of narrative or situation emerge
in the improvisations too. Given its fairly fixed description on the
Odin’s website, I am uncertain as to how much is truly improvised in
the moment of performance (Odin Teatret, 2011m).
174 Odin Teatret

Because the actors can improvise together, the work demonstration

stresses common principles in different ‘languages’. Each is claimed
to be part of the praxis of Theatre Anthropology, enabling the play
of impulse and counter-impulse, just as many of the pictures of ISTA
show. But the work demonstration neglects a clear account of why
such a common language is needed, or why Theatre Anthropology in
particular should be the right framework for improvisation between
actors schooled in different traditions. Nevertheless, the appearance
of the work demonstration in what is an intense week (or more) of
activity about Odin Teatret further reinforces the blurring of bound-
aries between Theatre Anthropology as a practical encounter, ISTA as
an event, Odin Teatret and its actors (Figure 5.4).
Viewed critically, the work demonstration ‘Theatre Anthropology’
clearly does not require the taxonomy of the Dictionary of Theatre
Anthropology, or an ‘empirical science’, to make it happen; this is a
set of actors riffing together, not an exploration of a special ‘geology’.
However, it does show how improvisation, as a dialogue of sats,
might be considered as a fundamental point of reference and thus

Figure 5.4 Theatre Anthropology: Akira Matsui, Julia Varley, Augusto Omolú,
14th ISTA, Wroclaw. Photo: Francesco Galli.
 Intercultural Theatre 175

more successfully demonstrates what is possible when representa-

tives from certain forms meet through practical means. What is
occurring in the work demonstration is much closer to the fiskedam
periods of Odin Teatret’s work, or its later incarnation as væksthus
sessions during rehearsals for The Chronic Life.
As a director, Barba has sometimes benefited from the opportunity
to create multicultural performance material through this impro-
vised method, something made clear during a forum in Wroclaw
(Odin Teatret, 2008c) and in his response to questions at the Odin
Week Festival presentation of the above work demonstration. The
pressure of time towards the end of Ur-Hamlet, as well as the fact
that it was built by assembling elements created over a number of
years and along a predetermined narrative line, means that par-
ticular forms of performance tend to be preserved as more or less
discrete units in that production. But Nigel Stewart’s study of Theatre
Anthropology as a system of signs (Stewart, 1993) recounts a work
session undertaken by Barba, Julia Varley, Iben Nagel Rasmussen and
Sanjukta Panigrahi at the 1992 ISTA in Brecon, Wales. According to
Stewart, Barba’s careful relational arrangement of improvised mate-
rial allowed meaning to emerge. This is a common procedure in the
Odin Teatret’s work, but, as Turner puts it, ‘the performer’s narrative
and fictional world may have an ambiguous relationship with the
narrative constructed by Barba’ (Turner, 1997, p. 124).
Stewart contends that, in line with Barba’s dramaturgy as explored
elsewhere, spectators may construct a further level of meaning.
Stewart concludes, ‘the Eurasian performer’s identity, then, is one of
creative associality. … This is what Barba cites as resistance against
ideological uniformity’ (Stewart, 1993, p. 385). Theatre Anthropology
is not necessary in itself to uncover this, but it does redress criticism
of Barba’s authoritarian voice at ISTA.

Theatrum Mundi: new performances

Ur-Hamlet is based on Saxo Grammaticus’s Latin text, Vita Amlethi (AD

1200), and was first performed in 2006 and subsequently in 2009.
Barba had originally been asked to consider staging Shakespeare’s
Hamlet at Kronberg Castle (often incorrectly cited as the inspiration
for Shakespeare’s Elsinore). Barba accepted the proposal but wanted to
work with the Theatrum Mundi ensemble on what became Ur-Hamlet.
176 Odin Teatret

Barba had drawn on Shakespeare’s Hamlet much earlier for the 1980
Bonn ISTA, so appears to have had a long-standing interest in the
Hamlet story and its transcultural performance potential.
As well as the Odin actors Julia Varley, Roberta Carreri, Torgeir
Wethal and Augusto Omolú, the performers include the Gambuh
Desa Batuan ensemble from Bali, the Noh actor Akira Matsui, and
a Nankuan Opera specialist, the Taiwanese Yalan Lin, a relatively
new member of the Theatrum Mundi ensemble, who replaced Mia
Theil Have as Hamlet’s Foster Sister in 2009. Music was composed by
Odin Teatret’s Frans Winther. Kai Bredholt and Jan Ferslev worked as
musicians and were joined by the Balinese musicians, Conceição da
Paixão and the Indian Annada Prasanna Pattanaik.
Ur-Hamlet has been an enormous project in terms of its develop-
ment. It began in Holstebro in 2003, originally with eight Odin
actors, and further at the 2004 ISTA in Seville and the 2005 ISTA
in Wroclaw. Work continued in Bali in 2004 and for five weeks in
2005 in order to involve the Gambuh Desa Batuan ensemble. In July
2006, the project culminated at the Ravenna Festival, Italy, when the
Foreigners were first integrated into the performance. The produc-
tion was performed in Holstebro, and later at Kronborg Castle in
August 2006. The 2009 version, involving some 120 performers, was
shown at ‘The World as a Place of Truth’ festival in Wroclaw, Poland,
which was part of the UNESCO Year of Grotowski, where I saw the
piece several times.
Much of the early phase of developing the performance also con-
cerned putting funding in place,8 with more intense activity in the
three months leading up to the first version. As Barba explains in the
film A Glance On Ur-Hamlet [sic],9 all of the elements and performers
could only be integrated in the last ten days of rehearsal of the first
version. A performance of this scale means that several co-producers,
including the Grotowski Institute in 2009, have been involved
throughout.
Although a smaller project, The Marriage of Medea also involves
a multicultural cast. It was staged in 2008 as part of the Holstebro
Festuge (see Chapter 4). Some of the Odin actors were involved (Tage
Larsen, Julia Varley, Augusto Omolú) and the Gambuh Desa Batuan
ensemble. As with Ur-Hamlet, a group of about 30 international
performers, ‘the Jasonites’, joined as workshop participants, some
of whom had performed or would go on to perform as Foreigners in
 Intercultural Theatre 177

Ur-Hamlet (the Jasonites are also discussed in Chapter 4 and the peda-
gogical aspects of their involvement, as well as that of Ur-Hamlet’s
Foreigners, are discussed in Chapter 2).
During the forum in Wroclaw (Odin Teatret, 2008c), Barba spoke
of his desire to display and share the craft and traditions of various
performance forms. He has also explained how the involvement
of the Balinese in Ur-Hamlet concerns how he ‘longed to recreate
the equivalent of an aristocratic Renaissance performance and, so,
wanted the presence of the most ancient and valuable theatre tradi-
tions in existence’ (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 29). The archetypal
figures of the ‘gentle’ and ‘bad’ kings from the Balinese Panji tales
are respectively lifted into the performance as Orvendil (Hamlet’s
father) and Fengi (Hamlet’s uncle). The entrance of the court near the
beginning of the production is a slow, formal, decoratively costumed
sequence, involving the entire troupe and in which the stage area is
blessed (see Figure 5.5). Barba’s valorisation of the age and aesthetic
of his Balinese collaborators’ performance form, created through
formalised movement, splendid costume, musicality and voice, obvi-
ously leads to the desired quality of gravitas.

Figure 5.5 Ur-Hamlet. Photo: Tommy Bay.

178 Odin Teatret

Barba conceived of the Marriage of Medea not just as a performance,

but as a composite event with ‘all the spectacularity that marriage
can imply’ (Marriage of Medea).10 The action of The Marriage of Medea
is conceived and built up as ‘a double performance’ (Marriage of
Medea), whereby the Medea story unfolds in the context of interre-
lated activities, including parades, the performance itself and several
smaller visits and performances locally by either the Balinese ensem-
ble, the Jasonites, or both. The iconography of a wedding is most
clearly evident in the parades attached to the performance, which
featured often in the 2008 Festuge, and place the performers and
their train out into the community. Fragments of action took place
within this wider performative framework: for example, the Jasonites
had created several sequences based on the theme of a ‘wedding’,
which were performed as street theatre. The Marriage of Medea itself is
punctuated by ‘festive intermezzos’; in one, the noise of the Balinese
meets the din of the Jasonites, creating the spectacularity of the mob.
The performance ends with a high-energy marriage celebration and
dance, which the spectators often clapped along to.
Barba writes in the programme for The Marriage of Medea that
‘circular time is the time of myth, the numinous, the sacred, or
more simply, of re-telling’ (Odin Teatret, 2008b). The placement of
parades and festive action around and within the performance per
se particularly suggests the iterative nature of the performance: per-
formers arrive, lay out on the ground what is needed either for the
performance or another activity, then leave in procession. We are
told that ‘between … two poles – linear time and the time of eternal
return – unfurls The Marriage of Medea. Its form is a travelling per-
formance that flows forward, then stops to eddy round, presenting
variations on the “fact” of what happened, has happened and will
happen, immutable and contradictory’ (Odin Teatret, 2008b). The
form of the performance thus embraces its legend-like origins but
presents it as a contemporary fictional continuum.
But Watson’s ‘ghosts of colonialism’ haunt here and the politics
of spectatorship must be considered. Clearly, a Western director is
choosing certain forms because of their innate, spectacular style
and potential dramaturgical impact. Watson neatly explains that
‘cultures other than one’s own are generally perceived as expressions
of difference. Most of us see other cultures through the frame of
our own and view what we see as expressive of the “foreign” other’
 Intercultural Theatre 179

(Watson, 2002, p. 3). To return to Zarrilli, to hold to a ‘composite’

view of ‘other’ Asian forms is to risk a kind of seduction by its music,
costume and movement patterns. As Taviani puts it (Taviani, 1996a,
p. 53), Western performance has been dominated by cinema acting
(though has, of course, found alternatives); it is all too easy to find
some, if not most, non-Western forms ‘spectacular’ because they are
‘other’ than the Western, realist mode of performance.
What is also all too easy is to fall into an unreflexive, Westernised
view that does not take into account that some forms of performance
are designed to be spectacular, theatrical and virtuosic in their own
right. This includes Kathakali, and certainly parts of the Balinese
dance, both of which – and this is often forgotten – continue to
respect, to a greater or lesser extent, their spiritual dimensions and,
ultimately, divine missions. Such forms clearly do not embody
normative behaviour, not least in their home cultures and for indig-
enous audiences.

Ur-Hamlet
Ur-Hamlet is credited as ‘a performance by Eugenio Barba’. Whilst
in Great Britain the tradition of the auteur is treated with suspicion,
Maria Delgado and Dan Rebellato’s recent Contemporary European
Theatre Directors firmly establishes the Continental European prac-
tice of the auteur. The job of the director is identified as ‘shaping,
representing, positioning and creating’ (Delgado and Rebellato,
2010, p. 18). Although Barba so often creates the performance dra-
maturgy as auteur of Odin Teatret’s performances, Ur-Hamlet placed
him, he says, in a ‘totally new professional situation, which made
me use the old, accumulated experience in new ways’ (Glance on
Ur-Hamlet). As well as organisational issues, these major Theatrum
Mundi performances, and Ur-Hamlet in particular, means Barba cre-
ates with the largest and most multicultural cast he has ever worked
with.
Despite the complexity of Barba’s dramaturgy in the Odin Teatret
performances, Ur-Hamlet fundamentally follows a chronological, dra-
matic line. The titles given in the programme serve as a brief outline
of the dramatic content:

Scene 1: Saxo, the monk, digs into the dark ages and unearths the
story of Hamlet, ruler of Jutland.
180 Odin Teatret

Scene 2: Orvendil, Hamlet’s father, is murdered by his brother Fengi.

Fengi seizes power and marries Gerutha, Orvendil’s widow and
mother of Hamlet.
Scene 3: Hamlet pretends to be mad in order to conceal his plan for
vengeance.
Scene 4: The castle is infiltrated by foreigners from distant lands.
Scene 5: Fengi lets Hamlet meet a girl in order to test his madness.
He believes madmen are impotent.
Scene 6: The Queen of the Rats (the plague) arrives at the castle.
Scene 7: Fengi’s counsellor hides in order to listen to the conversa-
tion between Hamlet and his mother.
Scene 8: Hamlet takes his revenge and proclaims the laws of a new
order.

One of Julia Varley’s significant functions as Saxo Grammaticus is to

move beyond the ‘conjurer’ of the performance, a role she occupies
in The Marriage of Medea, to a figure who verbally identifies each of
the major characters and clarifies points in the action. In his fine
dramaturgical analysis of the 2006 version, Christoffersen discusses
language in Ur Hamlet, but finds, however, that ‘the lines that are
delivered in Balinese, Latin, and English do not play a dominant nar-
rative role’ (Christoffersen, 2008, p. 116). Whilst spectators may not
understand all of the spoken text, language is still, I think, allied to
narrative. In Varley’s case, this is undertaken in English, a language
again allowed to dominate in international settings. In Wroclaw,
signs were also occasionally held up with captions, which appeared
in English and Polish. Only on occasion is a step-by-step indication
of character and story reversed. We see a more frenzied energy to
Augusto Omolú’s orixá dance, and are told afterwards that ‘Hamlet
pretends to be mad in order to conceal his plan for vengeance’, a point
stated in the programme too. As Christoffersen suggests, other ‘signs,
symbols, metaphors, narrative codes, and referential conventions’
(Christoffersen, 2008, p. 116) appear in Ur-Hamlet, but there is a good
deal of basic storytelling through language.
Barba has previously highlighted that one of the key factors of
Eurasian Theatre is that, in many performance traditions, the gen-
der of the actor is not the same as the character (Barba, 1988b).
Western examples are clearly more challenging, but this observa-
tion might include the all-male Indian Kathakali or the Japanese
 Intercultural Theatre 181

Onnagata traditions. As Barba explains, this gender ‘blindness’ has

become part of Odin Teatret’s way of working (Barba, 1988b, p. 128).
In Ur-Hamlet, Julia Varley is the male Saxo Grammaticus, Orvendil
(Hamlet’s father) is played by a female actor, and the Queen of the
Rats is played by Akira Matsui. In most instances, it is clear how the
spectator is meant to engage with the enactment of character because
of certain rules or intrinsic conventions of certain performance tra-
ditions. These choices are by no means consistent, though: Hamlet
(Omolú) is a man, his mother is played by a woman (Carreri) and
his foster sister (Lin) behaves with studied feminine demeanour.
Although not carried through with an obvious plan, Barba allows,
generally, the intrinsic nature of the performance to form an authen-
ticity on its own terms, and the ‘expression level’ furthers the action
of the performance.
In the seminar attached to the 2009 Wroclaw performances (Odin
Teatret, 2008c), Julia Varley also outlined how Ur-Hamlet is conceived
as several layers: the narrative level of Hamlet’s story and the imme-
diate court; the external commentary of Saxo Grammaticus; the
Foreigners who shatter the action, and, of course, certain theatrical
traditions. Barba explains that a performance comprises ‘the relation-
ships between the various components in a vertical dimension’ (Barba,
2010a, p. 9, original emphasis), which suggests performance material
can be conjoined or juxtaposed through, in real terms, simultaneous
action. My notes from the performance in Wroclaw can serve to
illustrate this a little more:

Hamlet feigns madness through the energy of an orixá dance and

Saxo Grammaticus tells us Hamlet seeks revenge for his father’s
death. A few Foreigners arrive at the castle: one runs straight
across the stage; another arrives in dark robes, but removes these
and slowly and seductively changes into contemporary dress in
a kind of reverse striptease. At the same time, Gerutha, Hamlet’s
mother (Roberta Carreri) and Fengi, Hamlet’s step-father (I Wayan
Bawa, a Balinese performer), enter to observe Hamlet’s behaviour.
We hear banging on the underside of the seating blocks: more
Foreigners enter as Gerutha and Fengi circle the stage, outside of
the lanterns. One Foreigner, dressed as the groom at a wedding,
calls ‘Christina!’. There are reunions and a wedding scene begins,
using a table and crates for seats (this scene was developed at the
182 Odin Teatret

2004 ISTA). We are told that Hamlet’s madness will be tested.

Hamlet’s Foster Sister (Yalan Lin) appears and she and Hamlet
dance sensually.
Now the tone of the performance shifts. The Queen of the Rats
(Akira Matsui, a Noh performer) brings the plague to the castle;
this is underscored by song. Saxo Grammaticus circles the space
and speaks in Latin during the action. The bride is ‘infected’ and
begins to writhe on the table. More Foreigners enter (they cre-
ate a horse-like grouping) and move through a choreography
(by Augusto Omolú) that ends with the striking sound of feet
shuffled on the stone and gravel floor. The groom begins to carry
the dying bride around the stage area. Saxo Grammaticus places
bones around the space.
Amongst this action, there is a scene between Gerutha
and Hamlet, during which the Balinese ambassador (whom
Shakespeare turns into Polonius) hides to overhear their conver-
sation. Throughout this sequence, Saxo Grammaticus continues
to speak in Latin, the dead bride is carried around the space, the
Foreigners twitch as in death and the music continues. Hamlet
beats his mother with rope. He crows like a cockerel and kills the
ambassador, but is captured by Fengi’s men, lashed to poles and
carried away. Saxo Grammaticus increasingly despairs. A forklift
truck begins to remove heaps of Foreigners’ corpses on wooden
pallets …11

Although the performance is episodic in structure, the action swirls

together effectively through its more sensuous dimension; in fact, on
my first experience as a spectator, I was most struck by Ur-Hamlet’s
dynamic of movement and sound, the ebb, flow and control of its
rhythm. Barba also speaks filmically of ‘the performance’s soundtrack’
(Barba, 2010a, p. 43). The aural dimension of the performance fabric
of Ur-Hamlet is virtually incessant and is a further ‘layer’ that deserves
consideration.
In Ur-Hamlet, the Balinese performers are especially powerful since,
as well as their sheer number, they are accompanied by the hypnotic
music of the Balinese,12 which changes quality to reinforce how
the softer manis energy creates a particular contrast to the stronger,
more percussive keras energy. Although Lin, playing the Foster Sister,
also mixes such qualities when she encounters Hamlet (and this is
 Intercultural Theatre 183

an example of a scene created out of an improvisation between two

different performance forms), the dynamic of sound again takes the
action forward at this point: the (upstage) wedding scene becomes
still, and the two dance-like sequences (the other is a tango between
two Foreigners) are underscored by Pattanaik’s vocals. There are at least
three performance types at work in the transcultural ‘weave’ of this
sequence: Latin American and orixá dance, and Nankuan Opera. Barba
continues that ‘a performance without its “double” of melodic sugges-
tions was unthinkable to me’ (Barba, 2010a, p. 44); this dance sequence
is about love and reunion and places specific forms side by side, yet
they are conjoined and heightened by a quite beautiful Indian song.

The Marriage of Medea

Rather than a collective of discrete traditions as in Ur-Hamlet, a clashing
of cultures drives the action of The Marriage of Medea. The Medea story
is perhaps most well known through Euripides’ play of the same name,
but Barba explains in film documentation of the performance that he
sought to resist what he terms a clichéd understanding of the Medea
tale, assumed, at least in Euripides’ version, as doom-laden from the
outset (Marriage of Medea13). Barba’s version follows the latter part of
Euripides’ narrative, but in The Marriage of Medea, Medea comes from
Asia to be married to a European Jason. Barba explains that this idea
led to the involvement of the Gambuh Desa Batuan Ensemble (with
whom he has worked from around the late 1990s). In The Marriage of
Medea, the Ensemble become Medea’s ‘people’, and the Jasonites are
Jason’s entourage.
Much like with Ur-Hamlet, the total action is laid out linearly in the
programme as a series of episodes:

1. The nuptial procession of Medea and Jason with their children

appears from the past here and now.
2. Clotho, the divinity who spins and severs the thread of human
lives, presents the thread of the story.
3. Medea dances with the women of her people.
4. Festive intermezzo.
5. First celebration: Medea helps Jason to steal the Golden Fleece.
6. Festive intermezzo.
7. Second celebration: Family scene with king Eeta, his daughter
Medea and his son Apsirtus. Medea slaughters her brother in
184 Odin Teatret

order to run away with Jason. Grief of her father who, blinded
by rage, slits the throat of a horse.
8. Festive intermezzo.
9. Third celebration: Quarrel between Medea and Jason who wants
to leave her so he can marry the young Creusa. Medea sends her
children to Creusa with a gift and uses her magic arts to multiply
herself and burn her rival.
10. Festive intermezzo.
11. Fourth celebration: Medea kills her children and is rescued by the
Barong, the totem animal which is the protector of her people.
12. Jason talks to his dead children.
13. Clotho reties the broken threads of life, and the nuptial proces-
sion sets off again. (Odin Teatret, 2008b)

As with her role in Ur-Hamlet, Julia Varley has an omniscient pres-

ence dramatically. She is also credited in the programme as one of
Barba’s assistants and took a leading role in the pedagogical and
organisational aspects of the Jasonites’ experience during the month
of preparation for the performance.
Varley’s white-faced Clotho also occupies a metatheatrical posi-
tion, holding a string of beads that is unclasped at the beginning of
the piece and then rejoined at the end. In line with the circularity
of myth that pervades the performance dramaturgy, the passage of
time that Varley’s action symbolises becomes warped at key points.
Some sequences portray past actions: for example, Medea brings
Jason forward as if in invitation to recreate their mutual history. The
mythical fleece appears and Jason ‘captures’ it. The warping of nar-
rative and stage time is exploited most clearly when Jason is present,
if detached dramatically, when Medea drowns their children, aided
by Clotho (Figure 5.6). Jason does not interfere in what appears pre-
destined; the reality of the performance action and the characters’
fictional time is simultaneously present. Thus the overall structure
emphasises the ritualistic element of the performance, harnessed to
the looping of stage time and the circular, repeated action of the
theatre event itself. Ironically, each episode is titled a ‘celebration’,
punctuated by the festive.
The double-framing and dualistic cultural positioning of the per-
formance could be exploited at the outset of the Jasonites’ workshop
process, which finalised the creation of the production. According
 Intercultural Theatre 185

to observer Sally McGrane, Barba couched the meeting in terms of a

kind of tribal encounter:

‘The Jasonite family and friends,’ the 71-year-old Mr. Barba said,
pausing to indicate fresh-faced performers in flashy hip-hop-inspired
outfits sitting behind him, who were to play the Greek hero Jason’s
followers and family members, ‘are very, very curious to know who
you are, Medea’s people. We have the occasion now to greet each
other in our own theatrical way. Then we will embrace each other
and go back to work. The Jasonites will work very hard, otherwise
my reputation will be spoiled.’ (McGrane, 2008)

Although the situation is rather stage-managed by Barba here, he

frames cultural difference theatrically: I was told later that a swap-
ping of songs and dance took place, as in barters. Barba also simulta-
neously suggests the fictional set-up of the ‘double performance’ and
the reality of two principal groups of performers meeting each other.
Thus, embedded in the narrative form as well as in the identity of the
performers is, as Barba says, ‘a meeting, a confrontation, between a
very old tradition like the Balinese one and a contemporary one …
where each [Jasonite] has to invent, to discover, their own individual
way of being an actor’ (Marriage of Medea). Whilst the Jasonites are
challenged to formulate a professional and personal presence as
solo performers and as an ensemble, Barba grants the Jasonites no
technical basis or experience equivalent to the Balinese, who are, by
contrast, seen as disciplined and virtuosic.
In contrast to The Marriage of Medea, this cultural dichotomy is
used more directly as part of the action of Ur-Hamlet, worth return-
ing too for a moment. In that performance, the Foreigners’ material
was created and made only in the latter part of the original 2006
version and, again, for the revised version in Wroclaw. Finding ways
to include fresh material into the components that had already been
created mirrors the Foreigners’ intrusion into Ur-Hamlet’s court,
which serves, as Christoffersen identifies, to ‘disturb the narrative’
(Christoffersen, 2008, p. 116). Although Christoffersen believes
that the Foreigners ‘can in particular be interpreted as the perceived
threat posed against the West by immigrants’ (Christoffersen, 2008,
p. 116), nothing particularly suggests this, though, to recall Stewart’s
point that spectators create meaning, nothing denies the possibility.
186 Odin Teatret

Figure 5.6 Ni Made Partini in The Marriage of Medea. Photo: Adam J. Ledger.

Although operating within the same fictional locale as other figures

in Ur-Hamlet, the Foreigners’ ‘foreignness’ is, rather, partly achieved
through a contrasting visual code to their more colourful coun-
terparts. They are costumed in more everyday, obviously Western
dress and perform through a contemporary, though not naturalistic,
movement vocabulary, clearly dissimilar to the codified forms of
Noh or Gambuh. It is also the sheer number of Foreigners that forces
this intervention by a large group of outsiders through the vibrancy
of the mob.
Although the assumption of mutual curiosity became a pedagogi-
cal model during the preparations for The Marriage of Medea, cultural
difference is perpetuated in that performance, unlike the more
 Intercultural Theatre 187

homogeneous Ur-Hamlet, despite the intervention of the Foreigners.

There is also no speech for a significant amount of time in the first
phase of The Marriage of Medea; instead Medea sings and dances and
‘her’ culture is presented. After a dialogue with Jason, he shows ‘his’
people, who are noisy and frenetic by comparison. Again, it is pos-
sible to see Barba’s implicit valorisation of the disciplined Balinese
performance tradition in comparison to the ‘fresh-faced’ Jasonites.
But whilst the Jasonites may not have the formalised performance
patterns of their Balinese counterparts, Barba has determined, on a
dramatic level, that a youthful, anarchic energy be placed against the
Balinese refinement (Figure 5.7).
The idea of the meeting of cultures within a ‘double performance’
was also planted squarely in the public arena of the town’s Festuge.
At the beginning of the Festuge, Medea arrived to meet Jason in a
traditional fishing boat, a jukung, constructed in Bali and brought
to Holstebro. Ni Made Partini, as Medea, was greeted by Tage Larsen
as Jason, lifted onto his horse and taken into town. Although some
spectators saw this event, and of course others within which The

Figure 5.7 Tage Larsen, Julia Varley, Ni Made Partini, the Jasonites and the
Gambuh Desa Batuan Ensemble in The Marriage of Medea. Photo: Adam J.
Ledger.
188 Odin Teatret

Marriage of Medea sits, it is not referred to in the actual performance

but remains a staging of the pre-condition of the dramatic narrative.
However, in the parades that both preceded and concluded the per-
formance itself (which incorporated those props that could be carried
by some of the assembled company) as well as the longer, indepen-
dent parades around Holstebro, the boat (on wheels) was pushed
along: it became a visual reminder of Medea’s displacement to this
part of northern Europe, thus simultaneously a cultural artefact and
emblem of the larger performative history of the production itself.

A theatre culture

Despite his long experience of ISTA, Taviani raises the nagging problem
of the use and application of Theatre Anthropology (Taviani, 1996a,
p. 40), which, unfortunately, he doesn’t quite answer. As well as a
vocabulary to analyse how actors work, I have suggested in my ear-
lier discussions of Theatre Anthropology, and ISTA in particular, that
sheer inspiration or, ideally, the challenge Theatre Anthropology poses
to evaluate and renew one’s own practice, might be enough (Ledger,
2005). Whilst Bharucha dismissively suggests that the principles of
Theatre Anthropology are ‘of no “use” to me’ (Bharucha, 1993, p. 61)
and therefore universally irrelevant, Barba’s retort would probably be
that Bharucha needs to find one. The criticism around the philosophy
of Theatre Anthropology has not simply resolved itself and ISTA, as its
pragmatic realisation, carries on. Barba says that Theatre Anthropology
is ‘a pragmatic science and a study about and for the performer’ (Barba,
2010a, p. 29, original emphasis); in terms of ‘use’, the goings-on at ISTA
are, most simply, ‘for’ its participants (see also Taviani, 1996a, p. 41).
Theatre Anthropology does neglect certain aspects; as I have earlier
pointed out, there is, for instance, ‘no V for voice’ in The Dictionary of
Theatre Anthropology (Ledger, 2006, p. 158). Varley usefully explores the
vocal area, though maintains that ‘recurring principles [are] difficult to
find, not least because of a lack of terminology’ (Varley, 1996, p. 93).
Theatre Anthropology’s ‘empiricism’ should surely at least mount an
investigation. Beyond the heritage of Candomblé, African performance
does not really appear in Theatre Anthropology. Other than principally
historical examples, there is a neglect of Western theatre in the valorisa-
tion of Asian forms; even within the discourse of realism-naturalism,
what is the Stanislavski ‘system’ if it is not the ‘organic repertory’
 Intercultural Theatre 189

(Barba and Savarese, 2005, p. 6) so desired of Theatre Anthropology?

More widely, much criticism rests on the exclusion of cultural context,
of course. It is the exclusivity of Theatre Anthropology that is simulta-
neously its criticism and what, still, makes it function.
To draw artists together in the framework of mutual theatre activ-
ity creates the conditions whereby, as Christoffersen rightly points
out, the multicultural elements of The Marriage of Medea or Ur-Hamlet
can be enmeshed in a further common context of performance
(Christoffersen, 2008, p. 108). Thus Taviani maintains that ‘if we
look closely [Barba] doesn’t make multicultural performances. He
doesn’t make a spectacle out of the multicultural features. For him,
these features are a premise’ (Odin Teatret, 2006, p. 38). As I have dis-
cussed, Barba is not consistent on the point of spectacle and, I think,
does make multicultural work since he holds the various performance
forms together in the overarching production. In his quest to pre-
serve forms, it seems to me that Barba doesn’t make transcultural
work, or create a contemporary performance form that can com-
pletely access the ‘geological’ connections that so drive the project
of Theatre Anthropology. The multicultural cast of Ur-Hamlet or The
Marriage of Medea is, rather, a precondition for another point of refer-
ence, that of the fairly clear narrative line of the Medea or Hamlet
stories. As Christoffersen suggests, the cooperation between the
group’s members is an active form of cultural politics (Christoffersen,
2008, p. 118) in that, ideally of course, an emphasis on practical col-
laboration draws attention away from the particular genres at work
in the performance per se, and towards a set of shared values.
Despite his admiration for various genres, Barba resists a definition
of identity that relies on cultural specifics, and, instead, has explained
that he considers the actor to have a ‘biographical-historical identity’,
rooted in the individual’s personal history, professional experience
and motivations (Shevtsova and Innes, 2009, p. 15). For Barba, it is
the individuated actor who embodies the style and tradition of the
performance form. However, Barba’s formulation of identity sug-
gests that formalised performance is ultimately personal expression,
something perhaps difficult initially to appreciate given the strictly
codified forms of Asian performance. This is something that Carreri’s
testimony draws out.
The term ‘master’, used freely in relation to the Asian performers in
particular at ISTA, and the concomitant valorisation of those forms,
190 Odin Teatret

is something of an unhelpful gloss. Zarrilli has rightly made the

point that because a performer is Asian does not necessarily mean
his/her performance may not be ill-disciplined and less than assured
(Zarrilli, 1988a, p. 102; 2002, p. 356, n. 7). As I Made Pasek Tempo
points out, ‘learning the movements of the dances is also difficult for
the Balinese’ (Tempo and Ruffini, 1996, p. 97). Sanjukta Panigrahi
offers a more nuanced testimony of a ‘master’, which reveals how she
has learnt at ISTA. Panigrahi explains: ‘I was willing to explore ideas
and see where they would lead me. Prior to ISTA I was not open to
suggestions. This openness has helped me a great deal’ (Jenkins and
Watson, 2002, p. 69). Further destabilising the assumptions around
the virtuosity of the North Pole performer, Panigrahi also goes on to
say that it was through ISTA that ‘I found I could feel each part of my
body’ (Jenkins and Watson, 2002, p. 69).
Although, as I have suggested, the power nexus around the observer
and the observed can be troubled in the context of ISTA, the non-
Western performers at ISTA are experienced artists in their own right,
seem to gain something by being there, and, we should hope, are clear-
sighted enough not to subject themselves to a position akin to that
of some kind of performing seal. In a neat volte-face, we might then
criticise Barba’s critics for their insistence on the cultural contexts of
the actors only, rather than their personal and professional choices.
For Hastrup, something ‘new’ is created through transcultural
exchange, and this has extended to major Theatrum Mundi perfor-
mances, especially so in the case of Ur-Hamlet. But one press review of
the first version comments, ‘it is as if the whole ethnographic depart-
ment of the National Museum has been brought alive, at the expense
of the real story about Hamlet’ (Lyding, 2006). Whilst what the ‘real
story’ of Hamlet might be is debatable, the reviewer’s preconception
finds that narrative is overwhelmed by plurality of performance
forms. Nevertheless, the issue of cultural dominance over such plu-
rality cannot be avoided, since ‘the model of creolization as creative
reinterpretation of the dominant culture in the periphery is an imag-
ination that belongs to that very same dominant culture’ (Hastrup,
1996, p. 170). It is, however, unfair to accuse Barba of a kind of blind
cultural imperialism, since he deals with the Theatrum Mundi actors
in the same way as the Odin actors. He is, then, always the auteur,
but, to return to my discussion of Barba’s directing, one who is reli-
ant on what actors bring him to work with.14
 Intercultural Theatre 191

The two Theatrum Mundi performances I have considered here

have provided another avenue to Barba’s interest in cultural forms
of performance. They have also drawn together the various aspects
of his and the Odin Teatret’s work into performances of a scale
not previously possible. In addition, Ur-Hamlet and The Marriage of
Medea demonstrate a tangible, disseminable outcome of what, earlier,
was focused through ISTA and the University of Eurasian Theatre.
Whatever the possibilities or critically perceived limits of Theatre
Anthropology, and Barba’s resolute manner of handling the research
and organisational aspects of these activities, it has at least shifted
discussion towards outward-looking performance projects. Thus
Pavis begins his defence of Barba by clarifying that

the term appropriation opens the way to an unfortunate misreading,

if it suggests that the western director acts like a cultural imperial-
ist expropriating (and destroying) oriental traditions, transforming
them into a westernized by-product that no longer owes anything
to its origins. In fact, the opposite is true: the re-elaboration of
gestural and choreographic materials within a new frame … by a
‘stage auteur’ … for members of an audience accustomed to stage
discourse in which meaning is produced especially for them. (Pavis,
1989, p. 161)

The ‘gestural and choreographic’ qualities of each of the forms in

Ur-Hamlet and The Marriage of Medea have been preserved because
each is centred on a particular performer or performers, rather than,
as his critics would have it, located in a particular culture, which, as
Risum warns, is ‘an obsolete notion of cultures as localised yet por-
table wholes’ (Risum, 1996, p. 169).
Barba’s complex ‘re-elaboration’ has created ‘his’ multicultural
performances. In the case of Ur-Hamlet in particular, which is an
especially ambitious project, these performances are possible in the
new millennium because the wider Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium is
now a mature production group, able to work with major inter-
national producers and festivals. To reduce an enterprise that has
obviously emerged out of the (admittedly troubled) field of Theatre
Anthropology to a plaything of an unthinking, imperialistic director
is to neglect the reality of an event on the world stage.
Afterword: Faces of the Future

As if to address what might happen in the future – something which

remains to be seen, of course – the 2014 Festuge is to be called ‘Faces
of the Future: Phantoms and Fictions’. It also takes place in the year
of the Odin Teatret’s fiftieth anniversary. The occasion combines a
celebration of the longevity of a theatre group and, even in its title,
a forward-looking attitude centred on the next generation. Whilst
the future is difficult to predict, what is important is that the Odin
is preparing for the future. It is fitting that this current study should
outline some of its plans.
In the programme to The Chronic Life, Thomas Bredsdorff expresses
the contradiction that ‘Odin Teatret is virtually on its last legs, but
they are still distinctly sprightly’ (Bredsdorff, 2011, p. 14). This really
relates to the condition of the actors, a physical decline which is inev-
itable. In discussion, Iben Nagel Rasmussen admits to wanting more
time and space to work, recalling that ‘when I was younger, I always
thought there would be more time to do things with more calm,
but it’s completely the opposite’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010), drawing
attention to how, today, Odin Teatret’s working life has become dif-
ficult, complex and challenging. Nevertheless, to define Odin Teatret
as ageing or aged, and specifically through degrees of physical ability,
is limiting.
The theme of death, which stems from Barba’s preoccupations,
does pervade many of the productions, but this is resisted in The
Chronic Life, as in earlier performances like Great Cities Under the
Moon. It is true that the actors have committed to an agreement
whereby Odin Teatret will remain in existence only if at least one

192
A.J. Ledger, Odin Teatret
© Adam J. Ledger 2012
 Afterword: Faces of the Future 193

of the older actors or Barba wishes to continue. The Odin has even
acquired its own graveyard. Yet when Barba declared after the 2011
Festuge, as he has done before, that Odin Teatret would effectively
die when its members passed away, letters of support for its activities
were sent to the local press, voicing the impact achieved over the
years.1 In part, it was this reaction that affirmed embryonic proj-
ects locally, which incorporate in-coming practitioners, as well as a
concern for international developments. The Odin has thus moved
away from youthful physical virtuosity to the mature envisioning of
activities and projects, based on its experience.
Legacy has clearly become a concern and will be realised in part
through the creation of the OTA (Odin Teatret Archives) and CTLS
(Centre for Theatre Laboratory Studies), which will continue its links
with the University of Århus, especially through its ‘Midsummer
Dream School’. Odin Teatret has also embraced the electronic age to
its benefit and it is easy to find documentation of its work via the
Internet. But Tage Larsen insists that, whilst he understands the need
to ‘write everything down’, he wants to get on with work, maintain-
ing, ‘I don’t know when I can tell all the secrets, because they are
still secret for me’ (Larsen, 2011). Thus, as Chapter 2 has discussed,
the Odin actors are driven to pass on their practice through interper-
sonal pedagogic activities, providing the basis for a practical legacy
in the work of others. A key desire for Iben Nagel Rasmussen is to
have ‘some more time with my pupils’ (Nagel Rasmussen, 2010). The
actors may not train in the way they once did, but they cannot avoid
a relationship to it, even if that is expressed through teaching.
As Chapter 3 demonstrates, some of the performances reuse parts
of older work. Although this is to value and develop the actors’
materials, so central to Barba’s approach, it is also to maintain per-
formative ghosts. Extant ensemble productions, and certainly the
possibility of new performances, will be the first to suffer from an
inability to continue work as a group. Already, some ideas about
ensemble work involving some of the actors and other collaborators
have been discussed; the inclusion of new, younger performers in The
Chronic Life certainly lays some foundation for such a development.
But as Varley writes,

we started out The Chronic Life with many images of death, but
it has turned out to be a performance full of energy and vitality.
194 Odin Teatret

Andersen’s Dream staged old age, and made our grey hair even
more evident than it is in reality; but performances like Ode to
Progress or The Chronic Life hide an optimism that years ago one
believed was a characteristic of young people, but which I think
now belongs to those who do not give up fighting for their
dreams, those who do not allow themselves to be disillusioned.
(Varley, 2011c)

For Varley, optimism does not just concern the vivacity of the young;
energy is about not giving up.
A feature that characterises the Odin Teatret’s creative objectives
for the future is the building and nurturing of connections with
key partners. Following The Marriage of Medea, a smaller group of
Jasonites decided to stay together and have become significant in the
Odin’s local activities. Following a return visit to Holstebro, when the
group traded rehearsal space and accommodation for practical main-
tenance duties around the Odin’s building, the Jasonites returned
again to undertake a set of ‘interventions’ in and around Holstebro.
This community engagement has become central to their work: for
the 2011 Festuge, the Jasonites created Shakescenes, a set of sketches
based on some of Shakespeare’s plays that linked to that year’s overall
Festuge theme of ‘Love Stories’. The Jasonites have built up connec-
tions with local schools, which will be continued and expanded for
their work for the 2014 Festuge. This work means that Odin Teatret
has been able to continue community engagement even when on
tour through nurturing trusted partners.
A balance between the autonomy of satellite groups and the
weight of the Odin’s name will be discovered through ongoing work
with such groups as the Jasonites, who have been invited to spend
six months per year at Odin Teatret. This will continue for each of
the next three years leading up to the 2014 Festuge. As one of the
Jasonites, Giuseppi Bonifati, explains, ‘the Jasonites were born at
Odin … we continue our artistic formation with them. But it is also
a sharing; it’s not just work, it’s learning’ (Bonifati, 2011). Bonifati
highlights the personal and professional development the links with
Odin provide, but within an ethos of mutuality. There is a plan for
the Jasonites to create a performance based on Grotowski’s Towards a
Poor Theatre, a direct request by Barba, with the aim to show it at the
Grotowski Institute in 2012. However, as Julia Varley also stresses,
 Afterword: Faces of the Future 195

‘what is clear is that even if we bring up people who can continue

our activities, they will have to do so in their own way and under a
different name’ (Varley, 20011c). There is a nurturing instinct here,
not a dictatorial one. In time, groups may use and evolve the influ-
ence of the Odin’s practice into a contemporary aesthetics on their
own terms.
As so often in the Odin’s history, the actors’ own projects will be
key to future developments. Varley and the Jasonites are involved in a
large project funded by the European Union, which will involve other
partners from several countries, each of whom will take on a leg of
performances with and around a touring caravan. Varley will explore
the theme of ‘crisis and renaissance’, touring particularly to Eastern
Europe. She will also continue to programme the Transit Festival.
More locally, the Odin actors continue their engagement with the
town: Roberta Carreri teaches, Kai Bredholt has links with the elderly,
Frans Winther has developed operas, Odin Teatret’s ‘house orchestra’
performs, Ulrik Skeel organises poetry evenings, and storytelling ses-
sions take place.2 And despite the resistance to new performances,
Barba is directing Varley in the new solo performance, Ave Maria.
In a period when financial constraints are having an impact on the
Odin’s ability to sell its work, as well as a 50 per cent cut in its state
subvention,3 a request has been received from its near neighbour,
Århus, to perform as part of its status as European Capital of Culture
2017, taking the group into its fifty-third year.
In addition to its community activities in Holstebro, centred on
the Festuge, Odin Teatret is increasing its input into future develop-
ments and infrastructures of the town that, years earlier, gave it a
home. Ulrik Skeel has the task of maintaining and developing links
with Holstebro and the wider area and reports that, since he does
not accompany the Odin on tour, he is often invited to local meet-
ings about cultural matters. Skeel has become involved in helping to
assess the efficacy of Holstebro’s cultural policies (Skeel, 2011). An
ongoing set of informal meetings is securing technical assistance for
the 2014 Festuge, but the idea of using the Odin Teatret’s buildings as
a venue for a programme of ‘artists in residence’ has also emerged.
Residencies will serve to demonstrate to the municipality that
other uses for the buildings and the resolution of Odin’s legacy in
concrete terms is credible. Artists will include one of Barba’s assis-
tants, Pierangelo Pompa, who will develop directing projects, the
196 Odin Teatret

Jasonites, and Deborah Hunt, who worked with a group of inter-

national participants in the lead-up to the 2011 Festuge, who will
continue her mask and puppet work with visiting participants and
local organisations. These projects are drawn together through the
title ‘WIN’ (Workout for Intercultural Navigators), produced in asso-
ciation with the Holstebro Kommune (the local administration). The
initiatives especially stress the social function of theatre through
an alternative definition of what ‘intercultural’ may mean; here,
it suggests different spheres of the population encountering each
other. This will bring benefits to the town, more specifically defined
as intracultural progress, though the Odin has also proposed that
certain more global intercultural projects are piloted, drawing on
its extensive international connections. Although local enterprise
remains important, the reach of Odin Teatret is now being used as a
form of cultural ambassadorship for Holstebro, providing a bridge to
greater possibilities.
Rather than defining itself as ‘foreign’, Odin Teatret is today
characterised by its formation of networks, its practical projects and
performance work, and its desire for legacy. Rather than how to end,
the most pressing and positive concern for Odin Teatret in the new
century is in what ways to keep alive.
Notes

Introduction
1. Companies receive an honorarium of a150 plus the takings at the box
office from Odin Teatret.
2. Another recent Italian book is Gli Spettacoli di Odino (Perelli, 2005).
3. As at the beginning of 2012, the ‘filter’ comprises Ulrik Skeel and Anne
Savage (administration), Julia Varley (actor) and Søren Kjems (Chair of
the Board).
4. Torgeir Wethal learnt the ‘cat chain’ exercise, pictured and discussed in
Christoffersen (1993, pp. 49–51), from Ryszard Cieslak.
5. Schaufuss has since left in rather acrimonious circumstances.
6. See Mastrominico (2006).
7. In order to demonstrate something of the ‘babel’ of Odin Teatret,
I list here the wider staff and their birth nationalities: Director: Eugenio
Barba (Italian); Literary Adviser: Nando Taviani (Italian); Administrator:
Søren Kjems (Danish); Producers: Nathalie Jabale (Italian), Anne Savage
(Danish), Rina Skeel (Argentinian), Ulrik Skeel (Danish); Bookkeepers:
Lene Højmark Kayasan (Danish), Sigrid Post (Danish); Assistants:
Hanne Kjær (Danish), Jon Morris (British), Pushparajah Sinnathamby
(Sri Lankan); IT: Pelle Henningsen (Danish); Technicians: Donald
Kitt (Canadian), Fausto Pro (Italian); OTA: Francesca Romana Rietti
(Italian), Mirella Schino (Italian), Valentina Tibaldi (Italian); Film:
Claudio Coloberti and Chiara Crupi (Italian); Costumes: Laila Lehmann
Pedersen (Danish); Board of Directors: (all Danish) Kirsten Justesen,
Søren Kjems (Chair), Per Kofod, Peter Laugesen, Bjørn Lense-Møller;
External Collaborators: Judy Barba (British), Elena Floris (Italian),
Raúl Iaiza (Argentinian), Lluis Masgrau (Italian), Sofia Monsalve
(Colombian), Pierangelo Pompa (Italian), Luca Ruzza (Italian), Anna
Stigsgaard (Danish), Ana Woolf (Argentinian).
8. Many members of Odin Teatret have adopted Danish nationality.
9. In Italian in 2009, English, Spanish and Portuguese in 2010, French in
2011.
10. The Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology has been the most prolifically trans-
lated book; see the Odin Teatret’s online bookshop and the extensive
bibliography developed by Lluís Masgrau for details (both accessed via
the home page of its website).
11. Lluís Masgrau was Barba’s assistant for a period, before pursuing an
academic career.
12. Tony D’Urso died in 2009.

197
198 Notes

13. This book is a collection of Barba’s speeches on the occasions of his

several doctoral awards honoris causa. Many have become articles or are
available on Odin Teatret’s website.
14. A Mis Espectadores is a collection of articles from Odin Teatret pro-
grammes, which are available in several languages.
15. It is possible to download parts of The Floating Islands and A Mis
Espectadores from the ‘rare books’ section of ‘The Odin Story’ page of the
Odin Teatret Archives website.
16. In 2008, the Odin Teatret granted all rights to the title to the Grotowski
Institute, Wroclaw, Poland.
17. Quoted from the back cover of the English version (Routledge, 2010).
18. Details of books available can be obtained via the Odin’s online
bookshop.
19. The work demonstration Dialogue Between Two Actors was undertaken by
Torgeir Wethal and Roberta Carreri. Carreri occasionally demonstrates
the work solo now, as she did when I saw it at the August 2010 Odin
Week Festival.
20. In the English version of many of the books, the original titles are
inverted so as to prioritise the content of the book.
21. The Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art, London, 1989–92.
22. Zarrilli’s book Psychophysical Acting (2008) has a foreword by Barba.
23. This text appears elsewhere, including in fragments in Barba (1999a).
24. I write ‘system’ in accordance with Benedetti (1998), to signify the evolv-
ing nature of Stanislavski’s work.
25. Grotowski’s original training was based on the Stanislavski system, or
rather the sanitised version of it permitted in the Eastern bloc at the
time.
26. Although we should note that with the exception of Apocalypis cum
Figuris, Grotowski’s productions were centred on a text.
27. At one stage, Barba tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade Odin Teatret to
become an agricultural collective.
28. Brecht’s Ashes was performed from 1980 to 1984. After the Brecht estate
withdrew rights to certain texts, Brecht’s Ashes II was created from 1982.

1 Burning the House: Paradigms of Practice

1. See, respectively, Skeel (1994), Romana Rietti (2001), Schino (2009).
Romana Rietti, responsible for the OTA, worked with Roberta Carreri on
her book Tracce. Odin Teatrets Forlag has not generally published books
about the Odin or by its members, with the exception of Varley’s Wind in
the West (1997) and an issue of Teatrets Teori og Teknikk in 1974 on specta-
tors’ reactions to Min Fars Hus, Breve til Min Fars Hus.
2. This can be seen, for example, in the film On the Two Banks of the River.
3. See www.themagdalenaproject.org (23 October 2011).
4. Other names are touched on later, but Toni Cots’s Basho group ceased
being part of the NTL when Cots left the Odin Teatret in 1985. Richard
 Notes 199

Fowler’s The Canada Project also ended as part of the NTL in 1991 with
Fowler’s departure.
5. See www.odinteatret.dk/research/ctls.aspx. Mirella Schino is the coordi-
nator of the OTA and Annelis Kuhlmann the director of the CTLS.
6. See ‘Training project 2009’: www.odinteatret.dk/research/ctls.aspx.
7. There are also plans to stream and sell Odin Teatret’s films online.
8. Over the years, several actors have joined and subsequently left.
A surprisingly long list is given at www.odinteatret.dk/about-us/actors/
actors-in-the-past.aspx (17 October 2011). Tage Larsen left the group in
1987 before rejoining in 1997.
9. Varley also demonstrates how an action has a threefold structure: a begin-
ning, a middle or change, and an end point. It is worth noting that this
tripartite sequence is also at the heart of the concept of action as defined
by Vsevolod Meyerhold, a director often referred to by Barba (for one
recent discussion of Meyerhold’s practice, see Pitches, 2003).
10. Sats is originally a Norwegian term.
11. I quote from the manuscript of the English translation here; see
Introduction and Carreri (2007) in Bibliography.
12. Watson notes that Laukvik led the teaching of composition improvisa-
tion in the 1970s (Watson, 1995, p. 7).
13. This is repeated in her book: Varley (2011a).
14. I asked Varley this, too, after first seeing her work demonstration The
Dead Brother.
15. Julia Varley, Else Marie Laukvik, Tage Larsen and Iben Nagel-Rasmussen
have significant directing experience. Roberta Carreri directed Rumor in
2009 for Masakini Theatre Company (Malaysia).
16. Though the latter understanding and practice is growing; see Turner and
Behrndt (2008).
17. Varley too uses this vocabulary (Varley, 2011a).
18. Interestingly, the impetus for making these films arose out of an acci-
dent, again highlighting the Odin Teatret’s resourcefulness in the face of
circumstances. Ulrik Skeel broke his leg and the tour of My Father’s House
had to be postponed, as was daily training for a while. Making the films
became one way positively to use that time (Nagel Rasmussen, 2008,
III, p. 1).
19. This is sometimes called ‘alley’ staging in the USA.
20. In Holstebro, the final performance is staged in the Red Room, the biggest
space.
21. At the time of writing (2011), the official costs are as follows: a workshop
(based on a session of around 4–5 hours) is a500 per day, per actor, plus
travel and lodging. If actors travel only to do a workshop, there is also a 50
per cent fee on the two travel days. A work demonstration is a1000, plus
travel and lodging (including White as Jasmine). A smaller performance is
around a5000. Deals for combinations of performances can of course be
made and nothing like this income was generated during the first tour of
The Chronic Life, which relied on the Odin Teatret’s long-standing partners
scheduling the performance in order to get it on the road.
200 Notes

2 ‘A privileged universe’: Training at Odin Teatret

1. This part of the Odin complex was built in 1998 and is dedicated to
Sanjukta Panigrahi (1944–97).
2. I have taken part in workshops led by Roberta Carreri, where Kathakali-
type eye exercises feature.
3. So called because Barba saw these in Switzerland, though Nagel Rasmussen
said to me that she had also created some of the exercises whilst on an
earlier tour to Århus, Denmark.
4. Information and scholarship on Lindh has increased in recent years due
to the work of Frank Camilleri (see Bibliography).
5. This production has, so far, only been performed at the Ravenna Festival,
Italy.
6. This has been performed in Holstebro during seminars and Festuge, and in
Poland and New York, but not under the name of Odin Teatret.
7. Iaiza, from Argentina, has been an assistant director on several
productions.
8. This income was reduced during the financial cuts of 2011.
9. The orixá is the dance of the Afro-Brazilian Candomblé tradition, and is
based on the embodiment of gods, each of which possesses a different
energy quality. See Chapter 5.

3 Performances
1. By Bette Midler.
2. I am indebted to Iben Nagel Rasmussen who provided further information
on these points.
3. Great Cities Under the Moon was altered slightly in May–June 2009 in order
to be part of a performance during Odin Teatret’s participation in the
festival ‘The World as a Place of Truth’ in Wroclaw, Poland, as part of the
UNESCO designated ‘Year of Grotowski’. As part of the action in this ver-
sion, Wethal placed what appears to be a letter on the handle of the closed,
upright umbrella. We hear of a ‘poet in exile’ and there is a song. However,
as the light dims, a photograph of the young Grotowski appears on the
reverse of the ‘letter’. This is no mere trick, but, as the Spanish reviewer
said of the piece, concerns its capacity to ‘evoke a further thousand stories’
(Gomez, 2008). As well as the relative flexibility of the performance, built
as it is from a sophisticated and largely sung or spoken bricolage, the par-
ticular quality of this moment stems, of course, from the special context
of the performance.
4. Andersen’s Dream was undeniably ambitious but, as a point of comparison,
Ur-Hamlet, although not strictly an Odin Teatret production, costs around
six times more per performance than others in the repertoire.
5. Odin Teatret has links with Teatro Atalaya in the city.
6. Raúl Iaiza, Lilicherie McGregor, Anna Stigsgaard.
 Notes 201

7. In On Directing and Dramaturgy (Barba, 2010a), Barba says that a little

more, some 24 hours of material, was created.
8. Used from 1914 as an alter ego when editing the journal The Love of
Three Oranges (see Pitches, 2003, p. 26), which, like so much of Odin
Teatret’s own research publication, sought to disseminate the work of his
Studio.
9. This is not an original term for the project; see Schino (2009, p. 51).
10. Thomas Bredsdorff, the production dramaturg, also speaks of this period
in the programme for The Chronic Life (Bredsdorff, 2011).

4 Odin Teatret in the Community: Barter and Festuge

1. This text first appeared in the journal The Drama Review as a kind of open
letter in response to a set of questions.
2. Odin Teatret had been invited as part of a research project funded by the
Italian Research Council to investigate the impact of theatre on isolated
communities.
3. Barzaghi is a member of the group Teatro dell’Albero; see www.tealbero.
it/site/ (accessed 23 October 2011).
4. I am aware of the difficulties surrounding the term ‘performative’. Here,
I most often use this in its adjectival sense, suggesting how activity takes
on the quality of, or is refigured as, performance.
5. I was also briefly in Holstebro during preparations for the 2011 Festuge.
6. This book leaves aside a major consideration of Odin’s street and out-
door performances, such as The Book of Dances (1974–80) and Anabasis
(1977–84), but I would point the reader to Watson’s (1995) study of this
genre of performance.
7. Who, with Judith Malina, founded The Living Theatre in 1947.
8. Gatherings of any kind were forbidden by the authorities in Peru, as can
be seen in the film On the Two Banks of the River. Only through careful
and subversive methods could the actors work. A type of parade was one
strategy; actors simply went for a walk in their costumes, standing out
from everyday activity. See also Varley (2011a, pp. 169–71).
9. Video documentation of performance by Theatrum Mundi at this ISTA is
available on the Odin Archives website.
10. As at early 2010, the population of Holstebro municipality, which
includes the town and the wider area, is a little over 57,000. Holstebro
itself has approximately 35,000 inhabitants. See www.holstebro.dk
(accessed 19 January 2012).
11. This is the plural in Danish.
12. Thanks to Eugenio Barba for offering clarifications around the origins of
Festuge.
13. See www.hotelproforma.dk (accessed 13 September 2011).
14. See www.yuyachkani.org (accessed 17 January 2012).
15. Agnello is a specialist in the hang drum.
202 Notes

5 Intercultural Theatre
1. I am using capitals following Barba (1995). Other ISTA co-founders
include Fabrizio Cruciani (Italy), Jean-Marie Pradier (France), Franco
Ruffini (Italy) and Ferdinando Taviani (Italy).
2. The Marriage of Medea could be performed indoors in case of bad weather,
as happened in the 2008 Festuge. Unfortunately, one performance of
Ur-Hamlet in Wroclaw had to be abandoned due to heavy rain.
3. Although Lecoq did visit Holstebro for a seminar.
4. In 2011, for example, I Wayan Bawa taught at the Odin in Holstebro
as part of the preparations for Festuge; here, an ISTA artist has become
entwined in Odin’s pedagogical and community imperatives. At the time,
I Wayan Bawa was also working on his own ‘Odin style’ work demonstra-
tion, with the help of Julia Varley.
5. In the 1960s, Brazilian (white) choreographers removed the orixá dance
from its Candomblé religious context to form what is generally termed
Afro-Brazilian dance. Omolú was teaching an orixá class for young people
who wanted to learn something of the form, and it is in this context that
Barba first met him. The samba also stems from orixá rhythms. Thanks to
Eugenio Barba for these insights.
6. This was originally just called Otelo when first shown at the 1994
Londrina ISTA. Orô means ‘ceremony’.
7. One might equally find Euro-American equivalents: the performance
of religious or liturgical music outside of its ceremonial context, for
example.
8. Ur-Hamlet normally tours with a minimum of three performances, cost-
ing a30,000 per performance. In addition, there are costs for travel, cargo
and lodging for approximately 80 people from Bali, Japan, Brazil, India
and Europe. There is a ten-day rehearsal period in addition to the perfor-
mance days.
9. The section on the performance itself is available on the Odin Teatret
Archives website.
10. Because it has had a much smaller performance history than Ur-Hamlet,
The Marriage of Medea has received less wide critical attention; one is
Oppedal (2008). However, the Odin Teatret Archives include much local
and national press coverage of the production; see also McGrane (2008).
11. Erik Exe Christoffersen devotes a large part of his article on the 2006
Ur-Hamlet to a description of the narrative, to which this account of the
2008 version can be compared (Christoffersen, 2008).
12. Though the music of the Gambuh does not use the Balinese metal-
lophone, a characteristic of the more contemporary dances. Thanks to
Eugenio Barba for this clarification.
13. Janica Draisma has also produced a longer documentary on the Odin
Teatret, Behind the Mask; see www.janicadraisma.com (accessed 19
October 2011).
 Notes 203

14. Away from the context of performance, Barba can be proactive and sup-
portive. Since the death of the Gambuh Desa Batuan Ensemble’s artistic
leader, Cristina Wistari Formaggia, in August 2008 (she became ill during
that year’s Festuge), Barba and his colleagues have raised money to help
protect its work and school. Wistari Formaggia moved to Bali in 1983
and pursued training in Balinese traditional theatre forms. Her role as
Orvendil in the original Ur-Hamlet was taken over by Ni Wayan Sudiani
in the 2009 version.

Afterword: Faces of the Future

1. Both Barba (2011) and Varley (2011c) reported this to me.
2. Both Bredholt and Skeel have been awarded prizes for their work with the
local community.
3. As at October 2011.
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204
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Index

Note: Page numbers in italics refer to an illustration.

actions 40–1 and Ur-Hamlet 177, 180, 182

actors 14–15, 36–7
ageing issue 61
apprentices 63, 70–1
dramaturgy of 50–1
duties and demands on 59
and laboratory theatre 34–6
materials and development of
performance 39–44
philosophy of 63
and training see training
work as ongoing craft 76, 84
see also individual names
administrative staff 57–8
ageing issue 61, 76, 85
Agnello, Francesco 156
Anabasis 71, 88
Andersen’s Dream 3, 5, 15, 39, 44,
46, 48, 87, 88, 91, 114–21, 118,
119, 121, 169, 171
Anton, Jørgen 44, 90
apprentices 63, 70–1
Århus, University of 2, 36
aural 53–4, 55, 67–8
auteur 179
autobiographical performance 28,
87, 90, 104
autodidacticism 7, 37, 39, 47,
75, 81
avant-garde 25
Ave Maria 89, 195
Ayacucho (Peru) 34, 136
Azuma, Katsuko 72, 170
Balinese 168, 169, 176, 179, 190
dance styles 164, 179
and The Marriage of Medea 178,
187
see also Pura Desa Gambuh
Barba, Eugenio 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 13, 42
as an auteur 60, 179, 190
and Andersen’s Dream 116–17
and barter 130, 135
Burning the House 61
and Michael Chekhov 24
and The Chronic Life 124
criticism of 89, 159, 160, 162,
166–7, 168
definition of theatre 140
on devised theatre 25–6
directorial and dramaturgical
practices 20, 27, 29, 44–7, 49,
60, 190
and ‘empty ritual’ notion 95
and Ester’s Book 108
and ‘extra-daily’ 149, 152
and Festuge 146–7
formulation of identity 189
founding of Odin Teatret and
motives behind 1, 7
and Grotowski 10, 16
influences on 66, 89
interest in non-Western
forms 159–60
and ISTA 2, 18, 19, 165–6, 168
and Itsi Bitsi 104
languages spoken by 55
leadership style 7–8, 32
and The Marriage of Medea 178,
183, 185, 187
On Directing and Dramaturgy
19–20, 32, 44–5, 124
and oral/aural 67–8
The Paper Canoe 18, 24, 97, 159,
160, 166

212

personal mythology 19–20
political stance 89
preparation 46
publications by 16–18, 19–20
and rehearsal 52–3, 54–5
reliance on assistants 55, 89
and ritual 157
and text 48
and Theatre Anthropology
159–61, 162, 165–8, 188
and Third Theatre 166
and training 37, 65, 69, 85
and UK tour (2005) 13–14
and Ur-Hamlet 175–6, 177, 179,
182
working methods 7–8, 20, 49
barter 1, 23, 34, 38, 59, 129–42,
141, 158, 163
in Cuba 136–8
definition 130, 132
and Festuge 131, 147, 149
in Italy 130, 135, 138–9, 141–2
origins 130, 133–6
preparation of 138
theatre and form 140–2
Barzaghi, Mario 130, 152
Basho group 35
Behrndt, S. 27, 28
Bharucha, Rhustom
Theatre and the World 166, 188
Billington, Michael 13
biomechanics 62, 164, 166
Bjørneboe, Jens 47, 100
Bogart, Anne 26–7
Bonifati, Giuseppi 194
Book of Dances, The 38, 69, 88
Bovbjerg lighthouse 59, 89, 152,
153, 154
Brecht 66
Brecht’s Ashes 72, 99, 101, 105
Bredholt, Kai 4, 195
and barter 130, 136, 139,
153
and The Chronic Life 20, 80, 124,
125, 125
and Circus at the Edge 152–5
Index 213
and community performances 9,
59, 152
and Festuge 146
and Itsi Bitsi 104
Bredsdorff, Thomas 55, 89, 192
Bridge of Winds, The 37, 71, 106,
136, 146
British Grotowski Project 10
Butoh 70, 165, 170
Callery, Dymphna 26
Canada Project, The 35
Candomblé 171, 172, 173
Cardiff Laboratory Theatre 136
Carlson, Marvin 149
Carpignano 64, 69, 130, 135, 138
Carreri, Roberta 3, 4, 50, 195
and The Chronic Life 125, 126, 126
and Festuge 146
injuries 61
and ISTA 103, 170–1
and Judith 90, 102–3, 170
Letter to the Wind 64
and Salt 41, 110–14, 112
and teaching 65, 81–2, 82, 195
Tracce [Traces] 22
and Traces in the Snow 6, 22, 38,
68, 103
and training 63, 70, 74
Castle of Holstebro II, The 89, 93
Centre for Performance Research
(Aberystwyth) 13
Centre for Theatre Laboratory
Studies see CTLS
Chamberlain, Franc 165
Chekhov, Michael 24
Christoffersen, Erik Exe 35, 180,
185, 189
The Actor’s Way 3, 102
Chronic Life, The 5, 15, 20, 28, 44,
45, 51, 53, 54, 56, 61, 79, 80, 89,
90, 97, 121–8, 125, 126, 175, 193
Cieslak, Ryszard 67
Circus at the Edge 152–5
‘collective mind’ 122–3
Colombia, tour of (2011) 58, 121
214 Index

commedia dell’arte 164 Ester’s Book 3, 5, 9, 28, 44, 51, 76,

composition 41 87, 90, 91, 106–10, 109
training in 67 Eurasian Theatre 163, 164, 180
Conceição da Paixão, Cleber 176 evocative dramaturgy 49, 50, 55,
Copeau 62 115, 127
Cots, Toni 70, 168 ‘extra-daily’ 76, 149, 152, 157, 159,
CTLS (Centre for Theatre Laboratory 160
Studies) 1, 2, 30, 36, 193
Cuba Farfa group 30, 35, 71, 106
barter in 136–8 Ferai 47, 69, 86, 90
Ferslev, Jan 4, 44
Dahl, Kirsten 109 and The Chronic Life 124
daily schedules 57 and Itsi Bitsi 104
‘Dance of Love, The’ 171 Quasi Orpheus 104
Danish Ministry of Culture 81 and Salt 110–14, 112
Dead Brother, The (work Festuge (Festive Week) 2, 3, 6, 59,
demonstration) 39, 40, 41, 45, 130–1, 142–52
46, 68 (1991) 147
Decroux, Etienne 72, 164–5 (1993) 147
Delgado, Maria 179 (1998) 148
devised theatre 24–8 (2001) 148
Dictionary of Theatre (2005) 148
Anthropology 16, 18, 160, 161, (2008) 6, 131, 133, 144, 148–9,
164, 165, 166 150, 155, 155–6, 178
Don Giovanni all’Inferno 88, 90 (2011) 171, 194
Doña Musica’s Butterflies 89, 93, 94, (2014) 19, 192
96–8, 99 and barter 131, 147, 149
dramaturgy 20, 25, 29, 43, 49–51, 55 content and events 143
of actors 50–1 dramaturgical and scenic tactics
in Andersen’s Dream 115, 119–20, during 143, 157
127 ethos of 142–3
Barba’s 27, 29, 48, 49, 60, 72, and interventions 131
175, 179 involvement of local organisations
evocative 40, 49, 55, 115, 127 in 157–8
narrative 50, 51 involvement of Odin’s
organic 49–50, 96 members 146
Dressed in White 72 meaning 142
origins 145–6
Echo of Silence, The (work parades 155–6
demonstration) 72 and performance 149–52
Ego Faust 3, 162 and performance of place 155–7
Eisenstein 66 sociopolitical agenda 145
elaboration 43, 72, 99 structure 146–8
embodied knowledge 75–6 themes 147–8
English language 55 as transformance 155
ensemble productions 26, 114–28, film-making 34
193 ‘filter’, introduction of the 9–10

financial issues 58
‘fish pool’ work (fiskedam) 48, 70, 175
Fjordefalk, Tom 91
Floris, Elena 15, 37, 51
Fondazione Pontederra Teatro 110
Foreigners 162, 176–7, 181, 185
Fowler, Richard 77
Gambuh Desa Batuan
ensemble 176, 183, 187
Gospel According to Oxyrhincus,
The 48
Govan, E.H. 25, 29
Gran Baratto, Il (The Great
Barter) 141–2
Great Cities Under the Moon 15, 27,
51, 52, 89, 91, 99–102, 100, 171
Grotowksi, Jerzy 7, 10–11, 18, 23,
24, 25, 56, 57, 86
Grotowski Institute ‘Master in
Residence’ programme 122–3
guru-shishya tradition 37
Halmtorvet (‘straw square’) 143,
145, 146, 149–50, 153, 158
Hastrup, Kirsten 171, 172, 190
Have, Mia Theil 4, 37, 71, 73, 75,
99, 176
Heddon, D. 25, 28
Hodge, Alison 27
Holstebro (Denmark) 11, 13 see
also Festuge
Hotel Pro Forma 146, 147
Hunt, Deborah 196
Iaiza, Raúl 55
improvisation 26, 41, 48, 86
In Search of Theatre (film) 69, 130,
134, 140
In the Skeleton of the Whale 6, 27,
29, 56–7, 88, 94–6, 96, 99, 117,
169, 99
intercultural theatre 159–91
International School of Theatre
Anthropology see ISTA
interventions 131
Island of the Labyrinths, The 148
Index 215
ISTA (International School of Theatre
Anthropology) 2, 4, 18–19,
71–2, 159, 160–75, 188, 190
(1986) (Holstebro) 168
(1990) (Bologna) 167
(1995) (Sweden) 166
(1995) (Umeå) 142
(2000) (Bielefeld) 162–3
(2004) (Seville) 19, 163
(2005) (Wroclaw) 163, 164
and Barba 2, 18, 19, 165–6, 168
and Odin Teatret 168–75
and Omolú 171–3
and University of Eurasian
Theatre 163
Italy
barter in 130, 135, 138–9,
141–2
Itsi Bitsi 28, 44, 90, 103–6, 169
Japanese classical theatre 159–60
Jasonites 148–9, 155, 162, 176,
178, 184–5, 187, 194, 195, 196
Johan Sebastian Bach 134
Judith 70, 90, 102–3, 170
Kaosmos 2–3, 13, 93–4, 98, 99
Kaspariana 47, 67
Kathakali 36, 66, 79, 159
Killing Time 89, 91, 91–3
kinaesthetic empathy 57
Kitt, Donald 4, 14, 37, 51, 77–8,
82–3, 99, 146
knowledge-in-action 76
Kuhlmann, Annelis 115, 119–20
laboratory theatre 23, 33–6, 81
and the actor 34–6
and Odin Teatret 1, 25, 30, 33–4
Larsen, Tage 4, 9, 14, 58, 168, 187,
193
and The Chronic Life 126
and Festuge 157
and ISTA 168, 169
knee problems 61
The Starry Messenger 77
and workshops 81
216 Index
Laukvik, Else Marie 4, 9, 15, 41,
51, 66–7, 69, 75–6
LeCompte, Elizabeth 25
Lecoq, Jacques 24, 62, 165
legacy 85
Lehmann, Hans-Thies
Postdramatic Theatre 28–9
Letter to the Wind 44, 60, 64, 111
Lin, Yalan 155, 176, 182–3
Lindh, Ingemar 72
Living Theatre, The 1, 25, 86
McGrane, Sally 83, 185
Magdalena Project 34
Marriage of Medea, The 4, 6, 83,
87, 148, 161, 162, 168, 176–9,
183–8, 186, 189, 191
Marriage With God 106
Masgrau, Lluís 17
Matsui, Akira 174, 176, 181
Mermikides, A. 25
Meyerhold 6, 62, 164
‘Midsummer Dream School,
The’ 36
Milling, J. 25
Million, The 70, 134
Min Fars Hus 69
Monsalve, Sofia 15, 37, 51
The Chronic Life 122, 125, 126,
127–8
montage 27, 39, 113–14
Mr Peanut (character) 91–2, 92
Musikteatret (Holstebro) 11
My Father’s House 133–4
My Stage Children 15
Mythos 15, 87, 88, 169
Nakajima, Natsu 170
narrative dramaturgy 50, 51
New Theatre Quarterly 17, 21
New Winds 71
New York, tours of 58–9
Ni Made Partini 186, 187, 187
Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium
(NTL) 12, 35, 162, 191
North Pole performer 160
nostalgia 28
Ode to Progress 88, 89, 90, 91, 94,
98–9, 138, 169
Odin Teatret
activities map 12
diversity of work undertaken 1–2
festivals organised by 2
founding and beginnings 1, 7
and future 192–6
group nature of 32
headquarters 5, 6
historical aspects 6–8
and ISTA 168–75
as laboratory theatre 1, 25, 30,
33–4
and legacy 193
longevity of 58
organisation and process 9–10,
57–61
relations with town of
Holstebro 11, 13
relationship with the UK 13, 59
working with and for the
community 9
Odin Teatret Archives see OTA
Odin Teatret in Cuba (film) 130, 136
Odin Teatret Film 9
Odin Week Festival 2, 3, 5, 52, 83,
85
Ohno, Kazuo 170
Omolú, Augusto 4, 37, 81, 130,
171–3, 172, 174
‘On the Periphery of Transit’ 34
On the Two Banks of the River
(film) 131
Open Page, The (periodical) 21, 33
organic dramaturgy 49–50, 96
Organic Theatre 6, 14
orixá dance 81, 171, 172–3, 183
Ornitofilene 47, 51, 66, 100, 118
Orô de Otelo 87, 171–3, 172
OTA (Odin Teatret Archives) 1, 18,
30–1, 36, 193
Panigrahi, Sanjukta 142, 147, 170,
190
Pardeilhan, Francis 71
Partini, Ni Made 186, 187, 187

Paths of Thought, The 73
Pattanaik, Annada Prasanna 176
Pavis, P. 191
pedagogy 2, 50, 81–3
Per gli anziani 130
performance
development of 39–44, 45
and Festuge 149–52
phases in evolution of 46–7
and training 64–5, 66–7, 69, 72,
78
Performance Group, The 25
performance of place 155–7
performances 86–128
aesthetic 87
biographical and
autobiographical material
in 28, 87, 90, 104
context and aesthetic 87–91
ensemble 26, 90, 114–28, 193
high number of 88
and languages 88
Mr Peanut character 91–3, 92
multicultural 87–8
scenographic 91
solo and smaller cast 102–15
and technique 90
see also individual titles
Physical Training at the Odin Teatret
(film) 53
Piccolo Teatro (Milan) tour to
(2010) 58
Playback Theatre 140
Pompa, Pierangelo 55, 195–6
postdramatic theatre 28–9
postmodern 27
Pound, Ezra 100
pre-expressive 71, 142, 159, 160,
163, 167–8, 173
psychophysical 23
Pura Desa Gambuh 4, 148
Quasi Orpheus 104
Rasmussen, Iben Nagel 4, 8, 9, 35,
39, 94, 192, 193
and The Blind Horse 21
Index 217
and Bridge of Winds 37, 146
and The Chronic Life 123, 127
and Ester’s Book 44, 76, 89,
106–10
and Farfa 35, 71, 106
and Itsi Bitsi 44, 103–6
and training 66, 69, 72, 80–1
vocal development 68–9
and White as Jasmine 68, 105
Ravenna Festival (Italy) 176
Rebellato, Dan
Contemporary European Theatre
Directors 179
rehearsal 51–5, 59–60, 61
repetition 52, 74, 152
residences 195–6
rhapsodic 28
Ricciardelli, Sylvia 71
Risum, Janne 161, 163, 166–7
ritual 157
‘river’ staging 56
Rooms in the Emperor’s Palace 89
Ruffini, Franco 168
Ruzza, Luca 91, 117
Salt 3, 5, 28, 44, 51, 54, 87, 88, 89,
90–1, 110–14, 111, 112
Sardinia 134, 135
Sarrazac, Jean-Pierre 28
sats 41, 174
Savarese, Nicola 168
scenic bios 40, 96, 159, 163
scenic space and spectators 55–7
Schaufuss, Peter 11
Schechner, Richard 25
Schino, Mirella 35
score 24, 41, 43
script 46
self-reflexivity 27–8
Shakescenes 194
Shakuntala 147
Shank, Theodore 25
Shevtsova, M. 8
Skaløe, Eik 103, 104
Skeel, Ulrik 144, 195
Smart, J. 25
South Pole performer 160
218 Index
spectators 13–14
and scenic space 55–7
Stanislavski 23–4, 66
Starry Messenger, The 77
Stewart, Nigel 175
street performances 88, 131, 134, 139
subscore 42, 50
Tabucchi, A. 114
Talabot 27
Taviani, Ferdinando 14, 73, 75, 89,
168, 179, 188, 189
Teatr Laboratorium 56
Teatr Zar 136, 146, 150
Teatrets Teori og Teknikk (periodical)
33
Teatro Atalaya 148
Teatro Potlach 148
Teatro Proskenion 163
Teatro Taller 148
Teatro Tascabile 148
technique 90
Tempo, I Made Pasek 190
text 47–9, 113
‘Theatre Anthropology’ (work
demonstration) 173–5, 174
Theatre Anthropology 18, 159–62,
175, 188
and Barba 159–61, 162, 165–8,
188
critique of 165, 166, 188–9
focus on the pre-expressive 159,
160, 163, 164–5, 167–8
and multicultural
performance 168
neglect of certain aspects 188–9
see also ISTA
Théâtre du Soleil 1
‘Theatre as Interference’
programme 155
Theatre Meets Ritual (film) 130
Theatrum Mundi 2, 4, 161,
175–88, 190 see also Marriage of
Medea, The; Ur-Hamlet
Third Theatre 33–4, 59, 166
Tian, Mian 165
tours 58–9
Traces in the Snow (work
demonstration) 6, 38, 68, 70,
103
training 3–4, 7, 23, 24, 26, 37–9,
59, 60, 62–85, 86
acrobatic-based 69
ageing issue 76–7
and autodidactism 37, 39, 65–6
and Barba 37, 65, 69, 85
and barters 38
composition 67
development of individual
emphases 38, 62–3
features of 62
‘fish pool’ work 48, 70, 175
and how the actor can be in the
present 38, 73
influence of ISTA 72
invention of own exercises by
actors 64
‘learning to learn’ 75
in the new millennium 73–81
and performance 64–5, 66–7, 69,
72, 78
phases of 64
and philosophy of the actor 63
slow motion feature of 66–7
sources and influences 62
teacher-pupil arrangement 71
vocal 67–9, 84
vœksthus 78-81, 79
and workshops 81–3
transformance 131, 155
Transit Festival 2, 34, 195
transmission 85
Turner, Cathy and Behrndt, Synne
Dramaturgy and Performance 27
Turner, Jane 95, 147, 162, 166,
168, 175
Eugenio Barba 3
UK
Odin Teatret tour of (2005)
13–14, 21
reception of Odin Teatret 13, 59

University of Eurasian Theatre 2,
163, 191
Ur-Hamlet 4, 6, 9, 142, 161–2, 168,
171, 175–6, 177, 177, 179–83,
185–6, 189, 190, 191
Varley, Julia 3, 4, 9, 32, 38, 39–40,
42, 43, 50, 172–3, 174, 194–5
and barter 138
and The Chronic Life 122, 123–4,
127, 193–4
The Dead Brother 39, 40, 41, 46
and Doña Musica’s Butterflies 21,
97–8
and Festuge 155–6
future projects 195
and The Marriage of Medea 184,
187
and Mr Peanut character 93
Notes from an Odin Actress: Stones
of Water 21, 39–40
performances 89
and rehearsals 52
and training 38, 63, 71, 72, 76–7
and Ur-Hamlet 180, 181
Wind in the West 21, 97
Index 219
vocal 53–4
vocal training 67–9, 84
Vocal Training at the Odin Teatret
(film) 53, 68
vœksthus sessions 78-80, 79
Watson, Ian 47, 88, 132, 140, 166,
178
Towards a Third Theatre 2–3
Wethal, Torgeir 6, 9, 34, 51–2, 69,
72–3, 86, 116, 118–19
Whispering Winds, The 1, 73
White as Jasmine 68, 105
WIN (Workout for Intercultural
Navigators) 196
Winther, Frans 4, 14, 130, 156,
176, 195
Woolf, Ana 54
Wooster Group, The 25
work demonstrations 57, 60, 88 see
also individual titles
workshops 65, 81, 85
Yuyachkani 147
Zarrilli, Phillip 23, 26, 166, 179, 190