Within

Marthe Koning is an performance artist who studied in ArtEZ in Arnhem and finished Performance studies at the Toneelacademie in Maastricht in 2021. In her latest performance What Pessoa Taught Me, she uses body percussion as well as her voice to interpret Pessoa’s poetry. Pessoa is one of the most notable Portuguese poets, known for using over 70 heteronyms. The spectator coming to see this performance might expect to see a play on identity, what it means to be someone who needs 70 names to express themselves. Pessoa describes one of his heteronyms in the following manner: ‘his personality, although not my own, doesn’t differ from my own but is a mere mutilation of it.‘¹ Thus the question arises, can someone even be just one thing, one personality?

Koning’s performance could be interpreted as a meditation on identity and how it is (de)constructed. The spectator finds her standing at the edge of the stage. She enters it as if moved by the sound of her voice; the energy bringing her forward comes from within. She seems to be sending a message though at first the sounds are unintelligible. Bit by bit the disconnected noises come together to form words, she repeats ‘I know only I; I know only higher; I own only I; lonely I’. This is as far as I succeeded at deciphering what Marthe was saying, the window of opportunity was short. The first part of the play seems to be answering the question of personality pretty straightforwardly, Marthe is only herself. However, her body percussion accompanying the words is violent, repetitive and controlling. Marthe masterfully deconstructs every single diphthong of the line and slowly glues them back together, creating an aural riddle for the spectator. In the process of solving this riddle the spectator is forced to think about the nature of personality.

“What Pessoa Taught Me’s strength lies in the fact that the spectator is completely engrossed in Koning’s physical anguish.”

Soon after the sounds come together, Marthe unnaturally moves backwards to the edge of the stage and stops when a glaring spotlight frames her. Like a rabbit in headlights, Marthe freezes for a moment. With simple yet powerful tools (light, breath, sound) she makes the spectator feel the shift in the mood. What follows next is intensified breathing as if she is having a panic attack. Marthe’s oesophagus seems to have transformed into a rope that she’s pulling deeper in herself or out of herself. Very much like someone having a panic attack, Marthe isn’t quite in her own body. The control that she had gained previously by gluing the syllables into words is failing her. Therefore, this ‘only I’ seems to be an illusion, a strenuous fight to ‘keep oneself together’ – a saying that in itself carries the notion of humans not being just one thing. The vowels and consonants can come into words, but the body will fight for freedom. It’s maybe a silly undertaking to try to unpack all the possible interpretations of Marthe’s performance. Especially because its strength lies in the fact that the spectator is completely engrossed in her physical anguish.

At last, Marthe breaks into a beautiful, wild, wolf-like song. This works like a release, as if previously we were watching someone shape-shifting and not quite finding the right form, the form that they fit in. Between a wolf and a woman, Marthe howls the last bars of her performance and the answer crystallizes in front of us. Pessoa seems to have taught Marthe about the multitudes of being that come within, the importance of running with the wolves. Her performance is a brave and unapologetic ode to freedom within.

© Louis Verlinde

Without

Louis Verlinde studied Fashion in KASK and has been working as a theatre costume designer for several years. Gina Beuk studied Cultural Heritage at the Amsterdam University of the Arts and in 2021 graduated from KASK’s Master’s in Drama. Their collaboration draws inspiration from Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, borrowing the cowboy setting, and the theme of searching for love in a stale society.

Upon entering the venue, the spectators are immediately placed in the middle of the play. They’re treated to a plastic flute glass of cava, the name of the play is shining in glitter letters on the actors’ T-shirts. The actors address you in bad English, encouraging you to take a picture with an inflatable cactus. I bet the cava is there to loosen up an otherwise shy Flemish crowd, to crack a smile on their faces. However, the trashy quality of everything is as amusing as it is unsettling. I keep asking myself, why is everything so bad? Some of the outfits are torn, the make-up is smudged, the actors don’t seem to know their lines, constantly looking down at their tablets for the next line, which is just generic corporate-speak. They might just as well improvise something. I shake my head and tell myself that this must be the shit part of the show.

“The trashy quality of BROKEBACK SHITSHOW is as amusing as it is unsettling.”

Through a maze of storage shelves we’re led to the catwalk. The venue is used smartly to separate the play’s different stages: the pre-drink, the photo wall, the introduction to the show and the show itself. When all of the spectators are seated, the garage door opens and the music starts, people start whooping. Gina, dressed in a stiff white and sparkly-red suit, seductively presents the lonesome cowboy in search of love. We see all the contenders walk the catwalk, and after some hesitation the cowboy chooses someone, then makes out with someone else. The play derails completely, exploding in suggestive floor twerking, loud music and, the cherry on top, a BROKEBACK SHITSHOW merch sale. Louis and Gina seem to be making fun of the high-pace entertainment of today which is made with only one goal in mind: it must sell. It’s a great, sneakily entertaining parody, but it precariously balances on the edge of what it parodies.

The play was showing in the night when the clocks were turning, and the city was bustling with people using the extra hour to party. It felt like I didn’t leave the play until the moment I reached home – the city was filled with loud noises and drunk people boasting in flemglish. I felt torn when realising that I had to make a stance regarding BROKEBACK SHITSHOW. It’s clearly aware of being without substance, of indulging in people’s weakness to glitter. Paradoxically, I felt that its absolute lack of introspection and full embrace of vanity enabled me to recognize and easily reject the omnipresent capitalist mindset of today. I’d rather live without it, yes, but seeing that I can’t, better make fun of it.