“…our work is mainly about circus itself, and only rarely about the world.” – Bauke Lievens, Second Open Letter to the Circus
This quote, one of the many nuggets of gold from Bauke Lievens’ open letters to the circus, puts so eloquently into words something I have often thought about. I have long wondered why the circus world at large has shied away from the realm of political and activist art, while other art forms--such as visual art, theater, dance, music, and literature--have a long tradition of challenging the status quo. Bauke Lievens talks about the myth of the circus -- it’s myth of otherness, of escaping the troubles of everyday life and running away to something different, something that exists separate from the rest of the world. Perhaps it is this mythic quality that has kept the circus world so reserved when it comes to political issues. As Bauke Lievens writes, “when we always characterise [circus] as something that is in a romantic and idealised conflict with the world surrounding the circus tent, it becomes very hard to draw this world into the tent.” Contemporary circus has changed and evolved immensely over the last half century. Its form and setting have changed, as has what it means to be a circus artist and how one becomes a circus artist. However, circus by and large continues to be an inward-looking art form. Perhaps it’s time for that to change as well.
When I’ve talked to fellow artists about doing political circus work the response has often been one of apprehension. They don’t want to go there; they don’t want to alienate their audience; they don’t want to pigeonhole themselves; they believe that people go to the circus to escape from the troubles of the world not to think about them. I think these are reactions to a narrow idea of what political work can be. The underlying sense I get from these conversations is that many people think of political or activist work as aggressive and in your face. They believe it must make people feel bad or try to shame them into agreeing with a particular point of view. But does it have to be like that? Don’t get me wrong: there is absolutely a place for unapologetic, brutally direct political commentary, but I also understand that that kind of thing isn’t for everyone. On the other hand, assuming you can avoid the political by simply ignoring it is naïve. After all, what do the arts do if not offer a reflection on society? The arts are how we tell ourselves who we are, what we value, and what we believe in. In this regard I see art as serving one of two functions: confirming culture or challenging it. And you simply can’t do either of those without being political.
But challenging culture doesn’t have to be aggressive. It doesn’t even have to be obvious or the main point of the piece. I was once working on a duo piece, and at the outset my partner said both, “I don’t want to make a political piece,” and, “as a feminist, I want us to be equal on stage.” To me those are two very contradictory statements. Now the point of the piece didn’t have to be a statement on gender roles or gender dynamics, but whatever dynamic we put forward would still be saying something whether that was the point or not. It would either be confirming the status quo, or it would be challenging it. Not addressing that would, to me, be missing a great opportunity and overlooking one of our most important roles as artists.
We don’t exist in isolation from the rest of the world. What we perform, even when it’s solely for the purpose of entertainment, is built on cultural values, and we get to decide what those values are. I recently spent four months performing in a variety show as part of a four-person acrobatic troupe. It was far from anything anyone would call political or activist, but the role I played in our slapstick acrobatic table act was a role I felt strongly reflected the values I believe in. I was the only woman in the team, and I got to be funny, silly, and strong. And most importantly, I was presented as completely and utterly equal to the three men I was performing with. No one would have watched that act and said, “that’s a political act,” but it was an act that was firmly rooted in values I believe in and would exist in the world I want to see. After all, the world I want to see still has entertainment for entertainment’s sake, because there’s a place and a need for that. Yet even art that is escapist or purely for entertainment’s sake isn’t free of political voice. Entertainment is still built on values, and those values either confirm or challenge our culture.
I want to see circus that looks outward. I want to see circus that considers and thoughtfully chooses the values that underpin it. I want to see circus that asks, why are we doing this and who are we doing it for? How are we treating our performance environment? Our props? Who is on stage and how are they interacting with one another and the audience? What materials are we using and where do they come from? What does all of this say about the world we live in, and does it align with a worldview we believe in?
The world is changing rapidly. As artists, we have the power to reflect on and direct this change. It’s time to think more deeply about and embrace our role, and then harness that power to create the world we want to live in.
You can find Bauke Lievens Second Open Letter to the Circus here.