Reading Response (11.05)

Email: jp7228@nyu.edu

 

In ‘You Are Here’ H.I.J.O.S. and the DNA of Performance, Taylor examined the intricate relationship between the acts of public protest which is performance protest and the transmission of traumatic memories. She underscores the use of performance protest like the “escraches” – public denunciations carried out by the Argentine group H.I.J.O.S. – to elevate societal consciousness regarding the human rights violations perpetrated in the era of military dictatorships of the 1970s and 1980s.

 

“Why, I wondered, do so few scholars think about the way performance transmits traumatic memory? How do those of us who have not suffered the violence come to understand it? And participate, in our own ways, in further transmitting it?” (Taylor, You Are Here, pp. 164). In You Are Here, Taylor offers the reader considerable food for thought, and between pages 165 and 166, she elucidates how performance acts as a conduit for transmitting traumatic memory. Her exposition has prompted me to re-evaluate last week’s reading response through the lens of my academic background. Moreover, it has instigated a reexamination of a topic I have recently been discussing with a friend.

 

I have generally been reluctant to engage in political discourse, as I perceive myself not as a politician, and I harbor the belief that, despite harboring numerous ideas and opinions, they are unlikely to manifest in the political arena. Or, when it comes to the governance system of my country, it is exceedingly challenging for those of us not involved in political vocations to effectuate change through individual agency. On some level, this might render me somewhat self-interested, as my focus tends to gravitate more toward the quotidian aspects of personal life, which, I believe, are more pertinent to the average individual. Reverting to last week’s reading response, we delved into a book entitled Kindred, which narrates the epoch of slavery. I distinctly recall my reflections as follows, “Personally, I was not supposed to have any opinion on this historic error. When reading this novel, I am essentially an external observer, and my understanding of this period comes solely from literary works and fragmented historical knowledge. I haven’t truly experienced that era, nor have I deeply studied that history.” However, one point I believe I failed to articulate clearly is my conviction that I am not in a position to levy any accusations, as making casual judgments without a comprehensive understanding of the matter is irresponsible. Personally, through the descriptive power of the text, I was able to “feel” the experiences conveyed—an atmosphere so oppressive it almost leaves one breathless.

 

Recently, a friend posed a question to me regarding the craft of acting:

Miao asked, “Having never been a husband or a father, nor experienced the scent and ambiance of an operating room, can you truly embody a role through imagination alone?”

I replied, “I may not have lived as a father or a husband, but I have observed such roles in society and can incorporate aspects of their behaviors and habits into my portrayal.”

Miao countered, “So, it’s about ‘acting’ after all. ‘Acting’ may lack authenticity, whereas ‘being’ is more likely to resonate with people.”

I retorted, “So does everyone who plays a murderer have to go and kill someone once in order to play the part?”

…

 

However, after completing the book today that explains the relationship between performance and traumatic memory, I found myself revisiting the discussion with my friend. If I were to encounter a character with traumatic experiences, how should I go about “presenting” it? Can my own emotional memory and imagination suffice to replace the character’s traumatic experiences? And is such a substitution justifiable?

 

Personally, I think both articles have one thing in common. How to turn trauma into something that can be used as direct evidence and for people who are not part of this traumatic experience to participate in. In You Are Here, Taylor reflects on the ‘DNA of performance’ as a concept that links cultural, political, and socio-economic factors, suggesting that the practices of performance and protest have the potential to create a shared understanding and recognition of trauma, affecting not just those directly involved but also the wider community (Taylor, You Are Here, pp. 176-177). It encapsulates how the past informs the present, how memory is kept alive through active engagement, and how these performances are a living. Just as DNA can reveal truths about our biological past, performance protest reveals truths about the social and political past and carries those truths into the future. In Villa Grimaldi, the experience of Matta (Taylor, Villa Grimaldi, pp. 188-190), his practice of preserving and disseminating history, real events, and the memories of the victims hopefully in various ways, also trying to turn trauma into evidence.

 

In conclusion, returning to the questions I have reconsidered, I believe that traumatic memory is so integral to a character that it cannot be superficially substituted. What I can do, instead, is to amass these “evidences,” transform myself into both a participant and a perceiver, endeavor to understand and feel it to the fullest extent, and subsequently, represent it authentically.