In an age of populism, the progressive artist is the artist who is not afraid of silence.

The baying of an audience in pursuit of unity is a sound of despair.

In a bad time laugther is a rattle of fear.

How hard is it to sit in a silent theatre.

There is silence and there is silence. Like the colour black, there are colours within the silence.

The silence of compulsion is the greatest achievement of the actor and the dramatist.

We must overcome the urge to do things in unison. To chant together, to hum banal tunes together, is not collectivity. 

( p. 11 )

( p. 13 )

Howard Barker,  49 Asides for a Tragic Theatre in Arguments for a Theatre 1989

First published in The Guardian, 10th February 1986

Høstens rolige gang mot vinter er ikke noen dårlig tid. Det er en tid for å bevare og sikre og legge opp så store forråd en kan. Det er deilig å samle inn alt en har, tettest mulig inntil seg, samle sin varme og sine tanker og grave seg en sikker hule innerst inne en kjerne av trygghet der en forsvarer det som er viktig og dyrebart og ens eget. Så kan kulden og mørket og stormene komme så mye de vil. De famler over veggene og leter etter en inngang, men det går ikke, alt er stengt og innenfor sitter den som har vært forutseende og ler i sin varme og sin ensomhet.

Det er noen som blir og noen som drar sin kos, sånn har det alltid vært. Enhver får velge selv, men han må velge i tide og etterpå alltid stå ved det.

Tove Jansson, Sent i November

Kaffe på Røyrivann, tidlig i oktober.

Neil Gaiman
volume seven : Brief Lives

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

Our profession is the possibility, the compability to change human beings.

First of all our selves.

Eugenio Barba
19th August 2014

People silently struggle from all kinds of terrible things. They suffer from depression, ambition, substance abuse, and pretension. They suffer from family tragedy, Ivy-League educations, and self-loathing. They suffer from failing marriages, physical pain, and publishing. The good thing about politeness is that you can treat these people exactly the same. And then wait to see what happens. You don’t have to have an opinion. You don’t need to make a judgment. I know that doesn’t sound like liberation, because we live and work in an opinion-based economy. But it is. Not having an opinion means not having an obligation. And not being obligated is one of the sweetest of life’s riches.
There is one other aspect of my politeness that I am reluctant to mention. But I will. I am often consumed with a sense of overwhelming love and empathy. I look at the other person and am overwhelmed with joy. (…) This is not a world where you can simply express love for other people, where you can praise them. Perhaps it should be. But it’s not. I’ve found that people will fear your enthusiasm and warmth, and wait to hear the price. Which is fair. We’ve all been drawn into someone’s love only to find out that we couldn’t afford it. A little distance buys everyone time.
Paul Ford