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The Visual Poetics of Dmitry Krymov's Theatre
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James M. Thomas
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Contemporary Theatre Review, Vol. 21(3), 2011, 340 – 350
The Visual Poetics of
Dmitry Krymov’s Theatre Laboratory
James M. Thomas
Dmitry Krymov is a Russian artist who, since only
2004, has built an international reputation through
performances that are directed, devised and performed, perhaps surprisingly, by stage designers.
He uses motifs from the well of his imagination and
those of other designers (often his present and past
students) and brings them together with assorted
images from paintings, poems, prose, plays and
popular culture to create phantasmagorical, one-off
performances. Following no obvious linear narratives, no literary dramaturgy as such, the intense
visual and thematic images and sensations built up
on Krymov’s stage may be seen as dynamic
montages. Montages because they combine visual
and aural elements from various sources; dynamic
because the designers construct and deconstruct
them literally before our eyes.
Newspaper, magazine and Internet articles –
nearly all in Russian, but a few in English – have
already been written about Krymov, including
interviews with him and his students and coworkers, as well as reviews of his performances.1
And in 2009, Maria Punina, art historian and
cultural editor for Radio Russia, wrote a dissertation about Krymov for her PhD from the Russian
Academy of Theatre Arts.2 Until now, however,
there has been no serious attempt in English to
study Krymov’s work. This article attempts to
provide an introduction to his work for an
English-language readership and to point to the
importance of his teaching and directing practices.
1. Russian-language commentary, interviews, videos and
reviews about Krymov and his work are too numerous to list
here. However, a representative sampling can be found by
searching for Dmitry Krymov on the Internet.
2. Maria Punina, ‘Teatr Vizualnovo Obraza: Laboratoria
Dmitria Krymova’ [The Theatre of Visual Images: Dmitry
Krymov’s Theatre Laboratory], (unpublished doctoral thesis,
Russian Academy of Theatre Arts, 2009).
Artistic and Contextual History
Dmitry Krymov was born in Moscow in 1954, the
only child of famous parents – the director Anatoly
Efros (1925–87) and the theatre critic and historian
Natalia Krymova (1930-2003). Because of the
complicated history associated with the name of
Anatoly Efros in the Soviet era (not least its
distinctively Jewish denotation), his parents
decided that their son should take the last name
James M. Thomas, Wayne State University, Theatre, 4841 Cass Ave., Detroit, 48202 United States.
Email:
[email protected]
Contemporary Theatre Review ISSN 1048-6801 print/ISSN 1477-2264 online
Ó 2011 Taylor & Francis http://www.informaworld.com
DOI: 10.1080/10486801.2011.585982
of his mother to avoid potential obstacles in his
future career path. In 1976, Krymov graduated
from the Stage Design programme of the Moscow
Art Theatre School. During the next nine years, he
worked primarily in support of his father’s performances at the Malaya Bronnaya Theatre, Moscow
Art Theatre and Taganka Theatre, where the latter
was artistic director between 1985 and 1987. After
Efros’s death in 1987, and for the next twenty
years, Krymov designed over one hundred productions for an assortment of directors and theatres in
Moscow, St. Petersburg, Riga, Tallinn, Sofia,
Tokyo and Paris.
In 1990, in the midst of the economic meltdown
that accompanied the collapse of Communism,
Krymov left theatre behind and turned instead to
the art world for a living. The decision was a
profitable one. For the next twelve years, his
distinctive neo-Impressionist paintings and drawings and imaginative installations built a considerable reputation for him and were shown in many
personal and group exhibitions in Russia, France,
England, Germany, Israel and other countries.
His paintings and drawings were also shown at
the Russian State Museum in St. Petersburg, the
Russian Exhibition Hall in Moscow, and the
Historical Museum of the Citadel Vauban in
Belle-Île-en-Mer, France. At the present time, his
works can be seen at the Tretyakov Gallery and
Pushkin Fine Arts Museum in Moscow, the State
Art Museum and State Theatrical Museum in St.
Petersburg, the Klingspor-Museum in Frankfurt,
the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, the
Vatican Museum, and the World Bank Collection
in Washington, DC, as well as in many private
collections.3
Krymov returned to theatre in 2002, when he
was invited to join the Stage Design Programme of
the Russian Academy of Theatre Arts (RATI).4
Later that same year, he staged his first performance
as a director with a production of Hamlet at the
Stanislavsky Theatre. He called this effort ‘simply
a try’.5 In 2004, he was asked to head his own
five-year course in stage design, which allowed him
to develop an innovative curriculum anchored
in project-performances with his students. Their
3. Krymov’s portrait of John Paul II was commissioned by the
Vatican as a birthday present for the Pope and is now part of
the permanent collection at the Vatican Gallery.
4. Initially established in 1878 under the sponsorship of the
Society of Music and Drama, revamped in 1922 by
Meyerhold as the State Institute of Theatre Training (aka
GITIS), and nowadays designated as the Russian Academy of
Theatre Arts (aka RATI).
5. Dmitry Krymov, personal interview with the author, 20 June
2002.
year-end final projects comprised two productions
– Untold Fairy Tales (2004, based on various
Russian folk tales), and Buritano (2004, based on
the 1936 retelling of the Pinocchio story in The
Golden Key by Aleksey Tolstoy). The avant-garde
director Anatoly Vasiliev was impressed by these
stagings and suggested to Krymov that they should
be included in the repertoire of Vasiliev’s noted
School of Dramatic Art. Thus was born the
independent, experimental, creative collective
called Dmitry Krymov’s Theatre Laboratory.
Since then, in conjunction with the productions
that he continues to produce with his students at
RATI, Krymov has added professional productions,
whose troupes have been regularly replenished with
stage-design graduates from RATI and with young
acting students from RATI, the Schukin School
of the Vakhtangov Theatre, and other Moscow
theatre schools. Anchored instructionally to RATI
and practically to Vasiliev’s School of Dramatic
Arts, Krymov’s Theatre Laboratory went on to
produce Three Sisters (2004, a RATI production
based on King Lear), Sir Vantez: Donky Hote
(2005, a RATI production based on a student’s
comical mis-hearing of the author and title of
Cervantes’ novel), and Auction (2005, a professional production based on fragments from Chekhov’s plays).
Krymov’s reputation grew appreciably when his
production of Demon: A View from Above (a RATI
production based on Lermontov’s poem of the
same name) received the prestigious Crystal Turandot Award presented by Moscow’s drama critics,
and the nationwide Golden Mask Award presented
by the Theatre Union of Russia. His next piece was
The Cow (2007, a RATI production based on a
children’s story by Andrey Platonov). The same
year, Krymov and his students were asked to
represent their country by designing the Russian
national pavilion for the Prague Quadrennial, a
competitive international exhibition of stage design
and theatre architecture. For this high-profile
project, Krymov and his students devised an
innovative, dynamic installation called ‘Our Chekhov’, which received the Golden Triga Award for
best national exhibit.6
In 2008, another shift occurred in the direction of Krymov’s career path attributable to what
some of his stage-design colleagues perceived as
his unorthodox and ineffective teaching methodology. Education in Russia is mainly provided
and prescribed by the state at all levels. At
6. Randy Gener, ‘All the World’s a Pavilion’, American Theatre
(September 2007), 30–5, 88–9 (p. 31).
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Image 1 ‘‘A Kiss before a Palette’’ (1993) (paper, gouache, mixed media. 102 cm695 cm). Courtesy of Dmitry
Krymov.
colleges, universities, and specialized institutes –
such as RATI or the Moscow Art Theatre (MAT)
School, for example – the student’s specialization
(major) is permanently fixed upon admission.
Curricula, too, are fixed for the entire duration of
study, leaving students with little say in the
planning or sequencing of their academic progress. On the other hand, specialized institutes
offer an impressive breadth and depth of subject
matter. Krymov is himself a product of such a
curriculum at the MAT School and – despite the
censorship in operation at the time – still has
fond memories of his instructors, the quality of
their teaching, the family atmosphere within the
school itself, and the creative work that he and
his fellow students managed to accomplish there.
As a member of the RATI stage-design faculty,
Krymov was naturally expected to accept the
feasibility of this sort of curriculum and make
use of its time-tested teaching methods. For a time
he effectively did so as a guest instructor in the
course led by Sergei Barkhin. But however much
Krymov valued his own education, he began to
consider a different approach for himself when it
came to teaching a new, post-Soviet generation
of stage-design students. For, as valuable as the
comprehensive training in fundamentals was at
MAT School and other theatre institutes, to him
that sort of learning experience lacked three
essential learning components: how to think as an
artist does; how to experience stage space psychophysically; and how to work collectively toward an
original performance before the public. To some
extent, of course, classroom and studio projects in
the standard curricula involved these components;
but for Krymov, the shift from small, narrowly
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Image 2 Scene from Sir Vantez: Donkey Hote (2005). Courtesy of Dmitry Krymov.
defined classroom and studio projects at the theatre
institutes to the vast and precarious world of
professional theatre ‘was like experiencing the
ocean after swimming only in a pool or a beautiful
lake or a river.’ But, he went on, professional
work ‘was like the ocean, another kind of energy’.7
Krymov was sharply aware of this ‘affective
memory’ experience of his and wanted to show
his students how to come to terms with that feeling
before they ventured into the profession.
Consequently, his courses began to focus less on
teaching isolated fundamentals and more on the
development of artistic sensibility and the collective, real-world exigencies of performance before
a paying public. Not for his students the usual
year-end exhibits of technical skills sequentially
acquired, nor even the performance of scripted
drama as such. As an alternative, his courses
develop visual, designerly performances that are
devised, executed and enacted by the students
themselves. Krymov sends his students directly into
the stage space, performing roles with both scenic
7. Dmitry Krymov, unpublished interview with the author, 22
June 2009.
and dramatic content, equipping them with found
objects as imaginative assistants. He delegates
creative authority to them, releasing them to sink
or swim while learning about their own artistic
independence. His main task is to give them the
chance to feel the stage space not simply theoretically, but mainly psycho-physically. They learn
how much is available to them as designers without
resorting to words. In doing so, he avoids the
traditional literary basis of theatre and replaces
it with purely visual signs based on the students’
own perceptions. He becomes, in effect, the
manager of his students’ creative imaginations,
allowing them to reveal their individual artistic
sensibilities.8
Readers can probably imagine the resistance
Krymov encountered from his colleagues on the
stage-design faculty about such a teaching methodology. His students were not learning the required
fundamentals, said the head of the programme. Their
basic skills were not improving at the expected pace
and therefore their progress toward graduation was
not on a par with the other stage-design students
8. Punina, ‘Teatr Vizulanovo Obraza’, pp. 17–9.
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344
who were taught in the customary manner.9 To this
criticism, Krymov responded that he was teaching
students how to think as artists in the high-pressure
collective process of theatre; they could learn design
fundamentals as they progressed through his practical, student-centred instructional programme.
Nevertheless, it seemed to his RATI colleagues that
Krymov actually wanted to be a director. Everyone
knew that his father had been a successful director
and that Krymov himself had recently directed
an innovative, empty-stage performance of Hamlet
(i.e. without scenery as such, using only chairs),
even using well-known stage and screen actors.
On the other hand, stage-design students were
clamouring to get onto his course, and there was
also the irrefutable reality of the media hype and
the prestigious awards that his performances were
receiving.
In the end, a compromise was reached. Krymov
would be transferred to RATI’s directing programme, whose faculty members in any case were
ready to accept him along with the publicity and
increased prestige his presence brought to their
faculty. He was to become head of an ‘Experimental
Theatre Project’. Stage-design students were still
allowed to study with him if they agreed to an
additional round of entrance requirements, which he
alone would specify. Interested student actors and
directors could participate now, too. Thus, for the
first time in the history of Russian theatre instruction, students began to have an opportunity to
master their profession in a unique form of coauthorship. Moreover, thanks to support from
Anatoly Vasiliev’s School of Dramatic Art, Krymov
was given access to Vasiliev’s former rehearsal and
performance venues for his teaching and independent performances – venues consisting of several
workshop spaces in a partly renovated apartment
building on Povarskaya Street and the impressive
new multi-form facility of the School of Dramatic
Art on Stretenka Street.
This potentially embarrassing change of circumstances actually worked to Krymov’s advantage. He
embraced the surrounding publicity, took advantage of opportunities for sympathetic financial
support, and rose to the challenge of competition
with his senior colleagues by significantly expanding his creative horizons. Students from his first
five-year course have gone on to work at important
Russian theatres and have already received their
own awards for scenographic design. In 2009,
students from his second five-year course opened
9. Adrian Giurgea, ‘When Designer and Actor are One’,
American Theatre (January 2009), 46–7, 146, 148 (p. 148).
their first production, Katerina’s Dreams. And
while continuing to refine his unique style of
teaching and performance, he has produced two
of his most ambitious productions to date.
Together with Vera Martinova and Maria Tregubova (recent graduates of his first course), he
created the award-winning Opus No. 7 (2008), a
two-part professional production based on musical
and visual motifs from the life and work of
composer Dmitry Shostakovich.
This was followed by another professional
production, Death of a Giraffe (2009), in which
friends gather to honour the death of their
patriarch, who happens to be a giraffe in a circus.
In 2010, the Moscow City Council commissioned
him to develop a performance in celebration of
the 150th anniversary of Anton Chekhov’s birth.
Krymov was one of several directors invited to
present shows for a special ‘Chekhov Days’ festival
in association with the bi-annual International
Chekhov Festival. He decided to work on this
project in tandem with composer Alexander Bakshi,
who was also a contributor to Opus No. 7. The
result of their collaboration was Tararabumbiya
(2010), ‘an unorthodox look at Chekhov’s characters’ in which they were ‘blown up out of
proportion’ by being viewed ‘through the prism
of the century that has passed’.10 Not so long ago,
Krymov’s name was invariably accompanied by the
phrase ‘son of the outstanding Russian director
Anatoly Efros’. But nowadays, that stipulation is
immaterial. Krymov is absolutely himself and ‘one
of the most notable figures in the sphere of
contemporary Russian theatre’.11
Artistic and Contextual History
That said, members of the GITIS design faculty
could hardly be faulted for thinking Krymov
actually wanted to be a director. After all, Anatoly
Efros was part of a long tradition of outstanding
twentieth-century Russian directors. Among the
most highly recognizable, of course, were Stanislavsky, Meyerhold, Vakhtangov and Tairov. But
after them, a group of younger, correspondingly
talented directors emerged, although they are
not as well known in the West – namely, Georgi
10. John Freedman, ‘Chekhov Days Fest for 150th Birthday’,
Moscow Times, 27 January 2010, http://rbth.ru/ articles/
2010/01/27/27110chekhov.html
11. Marina Davydova, ‘RTLB.RU’, Russian Theatre Life in
Brief, January 2008, http://www.rtlb.ru/page.php?id¼634
[accessed 26 November 2010].
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Image 3 Scene for Katerina’s Dreams (2009). Courtesy of Dmitry Krymov.
Tovstonogov, Yuri Lyubimov, and Efros. At
GITIS, Efros was a student of Maria Knebel
(1898–1985), who had studied with all the
principal figures of the Moscow Art Theatre.
Sharon Carnicke rightly said that through synthesizing their work, Knebel became ‘arguably the
most important theatrical voice of Russia’s Soviet
era’.12 Knebel was a member of MAT’s First and
Second Studios, which were later merged to form
the Second Moscow Art Theatre. After the Soviet
government dissolved MAT II and reformed it as the
Central Children’s Theatre, Knebel joined the
Moscow Art Theatre. Later, in a fateful turnabout,
she became artistic director of that same Central
Children’s Theatre. Thanks to her support, it was
there that Efros first gained the public’s attention.
Subsequently, he went on to become artistic director
of the Lenkom Theatre, chief director at the Malaya
Bronnaya Theatre, and artistic director of the
Taganka Theatre. His penetrating, lyrical-psychological approach to production acquired wide appreciation, especially among the Russian intelligentsia,
and he accumulated more than a little respect whilst
12. Sharon Carnicke, ‘The Knebel Technique: Active Analysis in
Practice’, in Actor Training, ed. by Alison Hodge, 2nd edn.
(London: Routledge, 2010), pp. 99–116.
enduring a career path that was far from troublefree.13 In short, Efros was not only an outstanding
director, he was also one of the few important
Russian artists who managed to maintain his integrity
despite oppressive Soviet disapprobation. More to
the point here, Efros was also one of the principal
heirs of Stanislavsky, in particular of his comprehensive final work, Active Analysis. It is not an overstatement to say that Efros forms a vital link between
Stanislavsky and the contemporary theatre as a
whole.14
No less important in this family portrait was
Krymov’s mother, the theatre historian, critic,
journalist and teacher, Natalia Krymova. She too
was a graduate of GITIS, where she studied under
Pavel Markov, literary manager of the original
Moscow Art Theatre. From 1956 to 1972, she was
a contributor to and later a member of the editorial
13. See Anatoly Smeliansky, The Russian Theatre after Stalin
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 58–
70, 110–25.
14. See Anatoly Efros, The Joy of Rehearsal (Amsterdam: Peter
Lang, 2006); The Craft of Rehearsal (Amsterdam: Peter
Lang, 2007); Beyond Rehearsal (Amsterdam: Peter Lang,
2009) (my translations). See also Maria Shevtsova, The
Theatre Practice of Anatoly Efros, Theatre Papers, 2nd series
(Devon: Dartington College of the Arts, 1978).
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Image 4
Scene from Opus No. 7 (2008). Courtesy of Dmitry Krymov.
board of Teatr, Russia’s leading theatre journal. For
the next thirty years, while contributing to various
newspapers, magazines, journals and anthologies,
she worked as an interviewer and broadcast
journalist covering issues about theatre, literature
and concerns of Russian culture in general. In
1989, she began teaching in the National Theatres
Programme at GITIS and was the head teacher of
several courses there. Krymova was also author of
three volumes of theatre profiles and a theatre
appreciation textbook, and was widely considered
to be one of the leading theatre critics of her time.
Equally relevant here was her editorial work on the
writings of two hugely influential figures in the
Russian theatre: the aforementioned Maria Knebel
and Michael Chekhov.15 The influence of Efros and
Krymova on their son must have been substantial to
say the least, at any rate on the subjects of literary
analysis and aesthetics, if not in actual practice.
15. Natasha Krymova’s two-volume Mikhala Chekhova:
Literaturnoye Naslediye [Michael Chekhov: Literary
Heritage] (Moscow: Isskustvo, 1995) contains Chekhov’s
entire written legacy, the majority of which has not been
translated into English at the time of this writing (January
2011).
Influences on Krymov’s practice in itself can be
traced more profitably to a previous generation of
Russian stage designers. Ever since the appearance of
the Russian avant-garde (1890–1935), Russian art
and stage design has been regarded as imaginative
and ground-breaking. Between the years 1913 and
1935, the avant-garde reached its peak of creative
and popular success with artists and designers such as
Marc Chagall, Wassily Kandinsky, Kazimir Malevich,
Varvara Stepanova, Lyubov Popova and Vladimir
Tatlin; composer Alexander Scriabin; directors
Vsevelod Meyerhold, Evgeny Vakhtangov and
Alexander Tairov; and film makers Vsevelod Pudovkin and Sergei Eisenstein. Stalinism ruptured this
unique and vibrant tradition for the next generation,
however, by installing a deadening, state-supported
artistic style known as Socialist Realism. Oriented
toward the advancement of socialism and communism, Socialist Realism was a government-enforced
policy that suppressed any form of art, whether
literary or visual, which did not conform to the
‘dictatorship of the proletariat’. After the death of
Stalin in 1953, a gradual slackening of government
control over the arts began to take place. During this
period, known in Russia as the Thaw, new artistic
themes began to emerge, and the influence of the
early avant-garde, formerly hidden underground,
began to make itself felt once again.
Sergei Barkhin and David Borovsky were among
the first stage designers to show signs of this
influence. Barkhin (b. 1938) was the earliest Russian
designer to reveal a postmodernist spirit in his work.
His designs are open and engaging, playing with
different historical styles, containing decorative
forms from historical theatres, combining images
and real objects with frankly theatrical props, and –
most importantly – making use of natural, untreated
materials. For many years, Barkhin’s name was
associated with the most important Moscow theatres
– the Maly Theatre, Moscow Art Theater, Mossoviet
Theatre, Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko
Musical Theatre, and Bolshoi Theatre (chief designer, 1995–2000). All the same, some of his most
notable recent designs were done at the Moscow
Theatre for Youth (TYUZ) in association with the
eminent directors Henrietta Yanovskaya and Kama
Ginkas. Barkhin’s designs had a measurable influence on an entire generation of designers, not least
on Krymov. More to the point at this juncture,
Barkhin is the founder (in 1992) and head of the
stage design programme at RATI. He was the single
person most responsible for inviting Krymov to
teach in the stage design programme, and later for
exiling him to the directing programme.
To Barkhin’s penetrating artistic images and
utilization of unfinished materials, David Borovsky
(1934–2006) added earthiness and striking dynamism. Like Barkhin, he also worked with many
prominent directors – notably, Anatoly Efros.
However, Borovsky was primarily distinguished
for his productive thirty-year association with
director Yuri Lyubimov at the Taganka Theatre.
Borovsky generally created his designs from a
limited number of simple elements – very often,
household things from everyday life, things that
spectators could recognize and which often held
deeply personal or historical associations in addition. On stage, these everyday objects acquired a
totally new and philosophical character. For example, ordinary, shabby stuffed chairs in Vladimir
Vysotsky (1981) and a camouflaged World War II
flatbed truck in The Dawns are Quiet Here (1971).
Most famously, for Lyubimov’s production of
Hamlet (1971), Borovsky created a full stage
‘living curtain’, fabricated from roughly sewn
burlap, leather and wool, and which moved around
the entire space according to the action, a dynamic
participant in the performance as a whole. ‘Eventually, [Borovsky’s dynamic] understanding of
theatre became known as ‘‘active design’’. His
work was not so much the creation of a place where
things happened – it was the action itself. Design
became as important to the production as the work
of the actors. It was an action shaped by content, a
physical transformation of the play’s ideas and
narrative.’16 Although Borovsky never studied or
taught design, he considered Krymov to be ‘one of
his two true pupils’, and conversely, Krymov
considers himself to be a faithful disciple of
Borovsky.
In his work, Krymov has synthesized the
interpretive and textural ideas of Barkhin, the
dynamism and earthiness of Borovsky, and
the innovatory raison d’être of the original Russian
avant-garde. Maria Punina has suggested that other
influences might also be at play in this synthesis specifically, Eisenstein, Picasso and Meyerhold’s
concept of montage (the collision of independent
elements in which, according to Russian film
director Vsevelod Pudovkin, each sequential element is perceived not next to the other, but on top
of the other); Marcel Duchamp’s concept of the
‘readymade’ (ordinary manufactured objects that
the artist selects and modifies); and Ilya Kabakov’s
concept of the ‘total installation’ (site-specific
three-dimensional work, with narrative connotations, wherein the spectator enters into the space
and becomes an active participant; also works where
something unknown and important either just
happened or is about to happen, as in Edward
Hopper’s paintings). What makes Krymov’s work
distinctive is that he manages to mix so many
diverse elements into original, consistently surprising, wholly devised performances. He ‘creates a
designer’s theatre that posits the element, and the
very act, of design as being equal to performance
and directing’.17
Performance and Pedagogy in
Perspective
Indeed, it is possible to see that Krymov has
developed something new here. Seeing specifically
what this new thing is, however, requires an
additional perspective. Freedman perceptively acknowledged both impulses when he said:
In some small but I suspect significant way,
Dmitry Krymov has created a kind of theatre
16. Giurgea, ‘When Designer’, p. 47.
17. John Freedman, ‘Dmitry Krymov Designer’s Theatre,’
TheatreForum 32 (2008), 13–8 (p. 15).
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that hasn’t existed before. At least not quite
like this. He applies the same laws and employs
the same devices that everyone always has,
yet he rearranges the equation, making the
product of the sum the process of the
performers making it. In doing so, he achieves
something that resembles only itself.18
Consequently, at this point, it is tempting for the
bewildered critic to retreat into selective contextualizing. Seeing that Krymov’s performers are not
actors or characters as such, his theatre could be a
manifestation of ‘the death of character’.19 As his
performances are basically translating the linear
logic of words into visual hieroglyphics and
imagistic signs, Krymov’s theatre could be a
manifestation of postmodernism. Seeing the performances as illustrations of the ‘increasing tension
between the formal requirements of Aristotelian
drama and the demands of the modern epic’, one
might consider Krymov’s work as a manifestation of
what Szondi terms the ‘crisis of drama’.20 Seeing
them as performances wherein the ‘master signifying systems in the theatre, such as those associated
with the actor and speech, give way to an allencompassing event defined by a thorough-going
relativism of definitive signification, in which the
actor is as important as the gestures, the set, or the
lighting’, one might recognize them as ‘postdramatic’.21 Or, recognizing the performances as
assertively nonrealistic, which they clearly are, one
could advocate the need for an entirely new critical
vocabulary, because otherwise one might, in the
words of Tori Haring-Smith, ‘distort its method of
meaning-making’.22
On the other hand, as I have argued elsewhere,
even novel and unusual theatrical developments,
such as those of Dmitry Krymov’s Laboratory,
continue to employ the basic features of dramatic
form, although in non-standard ways.’23 If this is
18. Ibid., p. 18.
19. Elinor Fuchs, The Death of Character: Perspectives on Theater
after Modernism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1996).
20. Peter Szondi, Theory of Modern Drama (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1987 [1965]).
21. Quoted in David Barnett, ‘Christoph Marthaler: The
Musicality, Theatricality and Politics of Postdramatic
Direction’, in Contemporary European Theatre Directors, ed.
by Maria M. Delgado and Dan Rebellato (Abingdon:
Routledge, 2010), pp. 185–203 (p. 185).
22. Tori Haring-Smith, ‘Dramaturging Non-Realism: Creating
a New Vocabulary’, Theatre Topics 13.1 (2003), 45–53
(p. 46).
23. James Thomas, Script Analysis for Actors, Directors, and
Designers, 4th edn. (Boston: Focal Press, 2009), pp. x-xi.
true, then Aristotle’s basic terminology should be
capable of providing ways to understand them.
Furthermore, there should be no need to change
the standard vocabulary or other means of coming
to terms with such plays/productions. The degree
of involvedness is without doubt greater than with
more conventional stage works, but the danger of
being ‘out of sync’ with contemporary mentality is
a worse problem.
As is well known, Aristotle’s Poetics privileged
plot as the ‘first principle and, as it were, the soul’
of drama and, by logical extension, the soul of
production as well’.24 And plot, it will be remembered, was for Aristotle not simply a mechanical
engineering of events so as to produce entertainments, but a special arrangement of those events in
such a way as to express a ‘complete action’. This
complete action Francis Fergusson explained as ‘the
movement of the psyche toward the object of its
desire’, which is the source of the play/production’s internal unity and therefore its artistic
significance.25 In those plays Aristotle knew, all
the other elements of theatre derived their distinctiveness from that of plot, and their kinship to plot
determined the order of their importance in the
dramatic work/production as a whole. Accordingly, ‘plot begets character, which begets idea,
which begets dialogue, which begets spectacle
(production values), which begets ‘‘music’’ (tempo/rhythm/mood)’.26 It is not hard to see how
the balance among these elements (the style of the
play/production) has varied greatly over time,
sometimes leaning more toward character (Chekhov, Williams), or toward idea (Brecht, Pinter,
Asian theatre), or toward language (Shakespeare,
Shaw), or toward music (tempo-rhythm-mood)
(Maeterlinck, Eliot, musicals and opera). Moreover, the underlying principles of the Independent
Theatre Movement (Théâtre-Libre, Freie Bühne,
Moscow Art Theatre, Theatre de l’Oeuvre, and
many others since then) were based on a ratio of
formal elements intentionally different from that
advocated by Aristotle.
Whenever the balance has tended measurably
more toward production values in themselves,
however, the results have commonly been criticized
for being too ‘theatrical’ or ostentatious (lacking in
artistic seriousness). Krymov’s Theatre Laboratory
has changed all that. Although his work retains
connections with the historical avant-garde, and
24. Aristotle, Poetics, ed. by Francis Fergusson, trans. by S. H.
Butcher (New York: Hill and Wang, 1961), p. 63.
25. Ibid., p. 85.
26. Ibid., pp. 61–4.
even employs certain features of Stanislavsky’s
system, it is nevertheless a genuine ‘paradigm shift’
in theatre performance: not a theatre with production values but a theatre of production values.
Contra Aristotle, plot and character are present but
negligible and laconic; idea is present too, but
oblique, not explicit; dialogue by itself is practically
nonexistent; music (tempo-rhythm-mood) is present but restrained. On the other hand, spectacle is
of paramount importance. Here are found memories of Roger Planchon’s écriture scenique (scenic
writing), Robert Wilson and Richard Foreman’s
‘theatre of images’, and Tadeusz Kantor’s use of
actors as archetypes in his performance art. There
are, however, significant differences.27 Krymov’s
theatre does not present a sequence of images
ready-made, but actually creates (and destroys)
those images before our eyes. Furthermore, rarely
does his theatre use performers as conventional or
archetypal characters, typically using them instead
as disinterested building blocks in an intricate and
dynamic visual system. Indeed, his use of performers as nonfigurative ‘somebodies’ is one of the
main characteristics of his work. Punina cleverly
observed that an unusual relationship develops
between performer and image similar to that of
M. C. Escher’s Drawing Hands, which depicts two
hands facing each other in the act of drawing one
another into existence.28 In Krymov’s performances, however, the hands are alive; and what
appears in Escher’s work to be a visual paradox
becomes in Krymov’s work a series of living,
breathing events.
No less innovative, and perhaps even more
significant in the long run, is Krymov’s pedagogy.
Some of his teaching is not unconventional by
standards in the West, where stage-design students
tend to be involved in practical work as designers or
designers’ assistants on a regular basis. Devised
theatre (collaborative creation) is not necessarily a
new phenomenon either. Its roots can be traced as
far back as commedia dell’arte and more recently to
the work of Jerzy Grotowski, Théâtre de Complicité, Peter Brook, the Wooster Group, and Pina
Bausch, among others. But there are differences
from Krymov here, too, since existent devised
theatre practices, books, and programmes are
intended primarily for actors and directors.
27. Significantly, Krymov, Wilson and Kantor were visual artists
before and/or during their work in the theatre.
28. Punina, ‘Teatr Vizulanovo Obraza’, p. 47. Also worth
mentioning in this context is the resemblance between
Krymov’s painting, A Kiss before a Palette (Figure 1) and
Escher’s Drawing Hands January (1948), http://
www.mcescher.com/ [accessed 10 February 2011].
What distinguishes Krymov’s teaching is that
practical work and devised performance are tailored
specifically for the distinctive mentalities of visually
and spatially oriented artists, rather for than actors
or directors. Krymov understood that, correctly
employed, Active Analysis can be an invaluable
teaching tool for stage designers because it takes
the form of physical action in three-dimensional
space, which in turn requires the students to
experience the essence of their work psychophysically instead of merely intellectually (e.g. at
the table, spoon-fed by a director). Students
approach their work step by step and logically
through physical actions expressed not by acting
but by ‘cobbling together props, costumes, and
other objects using hammers, scissors, knives,
cardboard, shocks of cloth, wire, string, felt pens,
paint, clay, and a host of other materials, objects
readily at hand in any stage design shop or
studio’.29 Except there is even more to Krymov’s
teaching than the collection of free-form visual
improvisations that Freedman’s account may call to
mind. It is also founded on the comprehensive
theoretical foundation of Eisenstein, Picasso and
Meyerhold’s concept of montage referenced earlier.
Working in an analogous manner, except with
actors, is Eugenio Barba (b. 1936), founder of the
Odin Theatre and the International School of
Theatre Anthropology. He writes about two sorts
of montages at work in the development of his
devised performances: ‘the performers’ montage
and the director’s montage.30 Krymov’s stagedesign students develop such performers’ montages
improvisationally, and eventually they find themselves working inside a performance system codified
by a ruling montage built up by Krymov from their
work. His is a director’s montage that weaves
together the individual montages of the performers
into a succession in which each performers’
montage seems to act in response to another and
in which all the montages derive an internal unity
from the fact of their mutual existence. Unsurprisingly, the actual process is not quite as amorphous
as this intellectual summing-up implies. Krymov
and his students spend days, sometimes months, of
preliminary discussion searching for precisely what
it is that they wish to explore in their evolving
performances. And then for a teacher there is always
the skill levels of individual students to take into
29. Freedman, ‘Dmitry Krymov’, p. 4.
30. Eugenio Barba, ‘Dramaturgy and Montage’, in The
Routledge Drama Anthology and Sourcebook, ed. by Maggie
B. Gale and John F. Deeney (Abingdon and New York:
Routledge, 2010), pp. 816–28 (pp. 820–21).
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account. In any case, Krymov’s is clearly a radical
and time-consuming form of pedagogy. Only time
will tell whether other stage-design teachers will
come to recognize the remarkably effective outcomes of this approach.
Krymov has expanded the range of resources
theatre artists can use. His performances and pedagogy have revealed new processes that allow actors,
directors, designers, devisers of new works, and
teachers to reach toward an idea, a play, a course of
instruction, or other creative construct and express
that idea with a wider variety of means. He has also
opened up new possibilities. What may have traditionally been considered a limit – as between
performance and design, text and design – is shown
to be something that can be overcome – for example,
the premeditated presence of designers within the
performance itself, not merely as non-representational stagehands like those found in Asian theatre,
but as active contributors to the concept of the overall
production.
Dmitry Krymov’s importance lies not only in a
new type of visual expressiveness, but also in the
rehearsal and teaching processes, and in the use of
production values to connect theatrical images
together in fresh and sharply contemporary ways.
Without a doubt, he is one of the most innovative
theatre artists to emerge in the last decade.