"From breath to rhythm, from rhythm to movement, from movement to voice, song, chant, from sound to silence, to stillness, and so on, always. And through all these, to find one's presence, to find one's self, in the empty space where we perform. The fundamental question then, is 'what is presence?'"
Being a student of the anglo-saxon world, and in an absence of anything else, allow me to piss around with the very word that presents itself.
In terms of tense, we know of past, present and future. It means something on stage for the actor. It means something else entirely, for the writer – whatever the writer may be writing.
In terms of tension, past, present and future, each bring different extension to the body/voice/character.
Attention – arguably a derivative of tense and tension [etymologically] is something else altogether.
But while we are at etymology and meaning, there is one word about past/present/future in tense [intensity?] that we miss often. That is of the derivative ‘present’ as a noun, and not a verb. Present as object, and not action. It is about the thing that is unwrapped, that mysterious gift given – the Present.
A parent gives a present to a child. The child lives its very presence every instant, and that itself is a gift to the parent.
An actor [or troupe] lives out its presence, presenting a gift to an audience. The audience, for a brief period, is transfixed only to the actor, the stage and the action [the presence of the moment], and lets the past repast on itself, knowing that the future is imperfect.
A true child lives in the present. A true adult navigates the past and future. A true dying man looks at the past.
In that manner of speaking, seeking presence as an actor is akin to seeking the child in us [a child that is a bastard of our past and future], and showing it to our current present [an audience], to linger in the very moment that is being exhibited [which, incidentally, is a Present].
So long, and thanks for all the Katla.