Stray notes on Grotowski — Stephen Legawiec

I hesitate to write anything about Grotowski because, although I met him, I never worked with him, and I am not a Grotowski expert. But his work has been a philosophical reference point for me for decades, and he frequently glowers over my shoulder when I am trying to direct something.

Grotowski (pronounced Groh-TAHV-ski in Polish) is one of the four great directors and theatre innovators of the twentieth century. He went through several theatrical phases in his career, the most influential being his “Theatre of Productions” phase, during which he produced theatre pieces for audiences, roughly 1958-69. His book Towards a Poor Theatre (mostly a collection of essays, speeches and descriptions of training) is a major contribution to theatrical literature. His influence is immeasurable.

Eugenio Barba assisted Grotowski for three years during the Theatre of Productions phase in Poland and considered Grotowski one of his mentors. Barba actually used to say that Grotowski was one of his “masters.”

In Denmark in 1996, Barba talked about Grotowski’s major contributions to theatre:

Scenic Design. He not only broke the proscenium orientation but demonstrated that the spatial relation of the spectators to the actors has a crucial impact on the drama.

Dramaturgy. He changed the relationship between the director and the text. (Grotowski was the first one to say, in effect, “Just because I do a play, it does not mean that I agree with the playwright.”) Case in point: he directed Wyspianski’s Akropolis because he didn’t agree with Wyspianski’s chief proposition in the play.

Acting. He reopened the idea of training. Although claiming to be just continuing Stanislavski’s research, his actors demonstrated there were alternatives to the current American Stanislavski training - which was all that was taught at the time.

*Akropolis,* 1962 / left to right: Zygmunt Molik, Ryszard Cieślak, Mieczysław Janowski, Andrzej Bielski, Gaston Kulig, Rena Mirecka
Courtesy of Laboratorium Theater / Archive of the Grotowski Institute

However, Grotowski’s legacy to Barba was much more personal. Barba said this about Grotowski, referencing theatre as a means of rebellion. “Grotowski didn’t teach me ‘poor theatre.’ He didn’t teach me ‘via negativa.’ He taught me how to fight!”

In the early 1990s, I had contacted Grotowski’s Work Center in Pontadera, Italy while he was still alive to see if I could work with him in some way. Grotowski had fled Poland in 1982 (when martial law was instituted) and established a theatrical research center in Pontedera, where he was to work for the rest of his life. Thomas Richards (who now runs the center) informed me that all students who to come to the work center need to fully support themselves financially while they are there. Like college. This was impossible for me at the time, so it went no further. (and this is not to say that I could have worked there just because I could have supported myself. The process to become an actor at the work center was beyond rigorous.)

*The Constant Prince,* 1965 / from left to right: Rena Mirecka, Ryszard Cieślak, Maja Komorowska, Mieczysław Janowski, Antoni Jahołkowski, Gaston Kulig
Courtesy of Laboratorium Theater / Archive of the Grotowski Institute

Working with Grotowski was not for the faint of heart, body, or spirit. A story goes that Grotowski had his actors do an improvisation for eight hours straight. At the end of those eight hours Grotowski reportedly said, “Now we are ready to work.”

Grotowski thought that most actors were incapable of doing the work necessary to achieving something real and meaningful. His metaphor was of someone digging holes looking for treasure. A dilettante digs down a foot, gets bored, and then starts digging in a different place, and then another different place and so on. And so they are left with a series of shallow holes and no treasure. The real artist is capable of digging in only one place for a long time. It is a lot of work, it is a lot of boredom, but only in this way, when they go deep, does the actor have a chance of finding something.

The late Judith Mailina of The Living Theatre said this:

"And what does he ask of us? That we go deeper into ourselves before we speak. That the actor speak only her deepest truth. That we labor mightily with our resistance to that truth. That we learn to express it. Every time we make it prettier, make it easier, more palatable, more charming, we betray Grotowski and his legacy.”

In 1991, I went to the Grotowski Institute in Wroclaw, which was founded on the site of Teatr Laboratorium, where his company rehearsed and performed. I spent the evening interviewing Stefania Gardecka who worked with Grotowski’s company, initially as a secretary, and finally, at the end of the ensemble's existence, as deputy director. While I was there, I watched films of all Grotowski’s performances for hours.

As it was getting late, and I had not made lodging arrangements, Stefa kindly invited me to sleep in the theatre. That night, I didn’t sleep, but stayed awake and read Towards a Poor Theatre from cover to cover in the theatre where Grotowski’s actors rehearsed and performed. It was surreal. If ever in my life I had communed with ghosts, it was that night.

Eugenio Barba invited Grotowski to ISTA (read my blog on ISTA) in Denmark in 1996. During the closed session we had a meeting scheduled with Grotowski in one of the work rooms.

We met in a black box theatre. Grotowski talked to us about his work. He asked us not to take notes, for he said that if we took notes we were not listening. He talked about studying at the theatre school in Krakow. He also talked about getting around the censors in Poland and said in his thick Polish accent: “Eet weel not be deeficult.” He started calling his theatre a theatre laboratory, because the government censors had no jurisdiction over a laboratory. As he recounted stories from his work and his life, I was surprised at how funny he was. And how non-intellectual his explanations were. He was not academic, but as simple as Ecclesiastes.

Grotowski also showed a film of a performance that he had been currently working on called “The Action.” The film was shot by Chiquita Gregory (André Gregory’s wife) who regularly filmed for Grotowski. “The Action” was not a play per se, but consisted of eight performers who sang, and performed ritualized actions. It was mesmerizing.

At the very end of the talk, Eugenio said that each of us could say something to Grotowski individually if we wanted. We then formed a line to speak to him. He was sitting in a chair, and in order to talk to him face to face, each person had to kneel in front of him. The image of this long line of people going up to him and kneeling in front of him brought to mind pilgrims meeting the Pope, or the Dalai Lama.

Grotowski’s almost monastic approach to performance created a mystique and many people revered him as a theatre guru. Even while he was alive, he took on a mythic quality. Eugenio Barba’s Odin Theatre actors knew him and occasionally they would write to him asking him questions. But all that mail went unanswered. When I asked one of the actors why this was so, she said simply, “God does not write letters.”

Grotowski died two years later at the age of 65. The Wikipedia says that he had leukemia and a bad heart. He had been in poor health for years.

After Grotowski died, I was fortunate enough to be invited go to his (unpublicized) memorial in New York City, which was held at St. Marks Church in the East Village. About 50 of his friends and colleagues, including Harvey Lichtenstein and Judith Malina, wanted to get together to speak about him. All shared stories and personal remembrances, some with great affection. An event of such adulation was not something which Grotowski would have chosen.

At the memorial, critic Margaret Croyden said this:

"His art and philosophy influenced everyone. His ‘poor theater’ become a revolutionary force, challenging conventional concepts of theater. His method was studied, written about and emulated. People tried his body exercises, they went to Poland for his and Cieslak's workshops, they published books about him and began to worship him. Though his work was not actually adaptable, he nevertheless represented an ideal, a way, a symbol of pure theater. He was a magician who could influence many people, especially the young.”

André Gregory was the last to speak. I specifically remember when got up, the first thing he said was, “You know, Grotowski would have hated this.”