Antonin Artaud [The Theater and Its Double]
¾ÈÅä´Ñ
¾ÇÅä [¿¬±Ø ±×¸®°í ¿¬±ØÀÇ ´àÀº²Ã]
PREFACE : The Theater and Culture
¼¹®
: ¿¬±Ø°ú ¹®È
Never before, when
it is life that is in question, has there
been so much talk of civilization and culture. And there is a curious parallel
between demoralization and our concern for a
culture which has never been coincident with life, which in fact has been devised
to tyrannize over life.
Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀº »îÀε¥µµ ºÒ±¸ÇÏ°í »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À̾߱⺸´Ù´Â
¹®¸íÀÌ´Ï ¹®È¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À̾߱Ⱑ ¿äÁîÀ½Ã³·³ ¸¹Àº ÀûÀÌ ÀÏÂî±â ¾ø¾ú´Ù. µµ´öÀû
Ÿ¶ô(Á¤½ÅÀû ÇÇÆó)°ú ¹®È¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °ü½ÉÀº ¹¦ÇϰԵµ ¼·Î ºñ·ÊÇÑ´Ù. ±×·±µ¥ ±× ¹®È¶õ °ÍÀÌ
½ÇÁ¦·Î´Â »îÀ» ¾ï¾ÐÇϱâ À§ÇØ °í¾ÈµÈ °ÍÀÌ¾î¼ »î°ú ÀÏÄ¡µÇ°Å³ª ºÎÇյǴ °æ¿ì°¡ ÀüÇô ¾øÀÌ Ç×»ó »î°ú ±«¸®µÈ °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù.
Before speaking
further about culture, I must remark that the world is hungry and not concerned
with culture, and that the attempt to orient toward culture thoughts turned
only toward hunger is a purely artificial expedient.
¹®È¿¡ ´ëÇØ ´õ À̾߱â Çϱâ Àü¿¡, ¼¼»óÀº ±¾ÁÖ¸®°í ÀÖ°í
»ç¶÷µéÀº ¹®È¿¡´Â °ü½ÉÀÌ ¾øÀ¸¸ç »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¹®È¿¡ °ü½ÉÀ» °®µµ·Ï ¸¸µé·Á´Â ½Ãµµ´Â ±Ã±ØÀûÀ¸·Î´Â º° È¿°ú°¡
¾ø´Â ¼øÀüÈ÷ ÀÎÀ§ÀûÀÎ ÀӽùæÆí¿¡ ºÒ°úÇÏ´Ù´Â Á¡À» ÁöÀûÇØ¾ß°Ú´Ù.
What
is most important, it seems to me, is
not so much to defend a culture whose existence has never kept a man from going
hungry, as to extract, from what is called
culture, ideas whose compelling force is identical with that of hunger.
°¡Àå Áß¿äÇÑ ÀÏÀº, Àΰ£À» ±¾ÁÖ¸®Áö ¾Ê°Ô Çϴµ¥ ¾Æ¹«·± °øÇåµµ
ÇÏÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â ¹®È¸¦ º¯È£ÇÏ´Â ÀϺ¸´Ù´Â, ±¾ÁÖ¸°
ÀÚµéÀÇ ¿å±¸ ¸øÁö¾Ê°Ô °ÇÑ ¾î¶² ¿å±¸¸¦ Áö´Ñ ¾ÆÀ̵ð¾î¸¦ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¼ÒÀ§ ¹®È¶ó°í ºÎ¸£´Â °Í¿¡¼ ÃßÃâÇØ ³»´Â ÀÏÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.
We
need to live first of all; to believe in what makes us live and that something
makes us live --- to believe that whatever is produced from the mysterious
depths of ourselves need not forever haunt us as an exclusively digestive concern.
¿ì¸®´Â ¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ¿ì¼± »ì¾Æ¾ßÇÑ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®¸¦ »ì°Ô
¸¸µå´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀÌ ÀÖ¾î¼ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¿ì¸®¸¦ »ì°Ô ¸¸µç´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¹Ï¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù -- ¿ì¸® ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ³»¸é ±í¼÷È÷ ÀÚ¸®ÀâÀº ½Åºñ·Î¿î ¾î¶² °÷¿¡¼ ¹º°¡°¡ ³ª¿À´Âµ¥ ±×°ÍÀÌ ¹«¾ùÀÌµç ¿ì¸®´Â ±×°ÍÀ» ¿ÀÁ÷ ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ¸Ô°í ¼ÒÈÇÏ´Â ¹®Á¦·Î¸¸ »ý°¢ÇÒ Çʿ䰡 ¾ø´Ù´Â °ÍÀ»
¹Ï¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù.
I mean that
if it is important for us to eat first of all, it is even more important for
us not to waste in the sole concern for eating our simple power of being hungry.
¹«¾ùº¸´Ùµµ ¸Ô´Â ÀÏÀÌ Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù¸é, ¸Ô´Âµ¥¿¡¸¸ °ü½ÉÀ» °®´À¶ó°í ±¾ÁÖ¸²À̶ó´Â ´Ü¼øÇÑ ÈûÀ» ³¶ºñÇÏÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï ÇÏ´Â ÀÏÀº ÈξÀ ´õ Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù´Â ¶æÀÌ´Ù.
If confusion is the sign of the times, I see at the root of this confusion a
rupture between things and words, between things and the ideas and signs that
are their representation.
È¥¶õÀÌ ÀÌ ½Ã´ëÀÇ Ç¥½Ã¶ó¸é ÀÌ È¥¶õÀÇ ±Ù¿ø¿¡ »ç¹°°ú ´Ü¾î°£ÀÇ ºÎÁ¶È°¡ ÀÖÀ¸¸ç »ç¹°°ú »ý°¢°ú ±×¸®°í À̸¦ ³ªÅ¸³»´Â ±âÈ£µé°£¿¡µµ ´ÜÀý°ú ÆÄ¿ÀÌ ÀÖÀ½À» ³ª´Â º»´Ù.
Not, of course,
for lack of philosophical systems; their number and contradictions
7
8 The Theater and Its Double
characterize
our old French and European culture : but where can it be shown that life, our
life, has ever been affected by these systems? I will not say that philosophical
systems must be applied directly and immediately : but of the following alternatives,
one must be true: öÇÐÀû ü°èµéÀÌ ¾ø¾î¼ ±×·± °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´ÔÀº ¹°·ÐÀÌ´Ù ; ±×µéÀº ¼ýÀûÀ¸·Îµµ ¸¹°í ¸ð¼øµµ ¸¹´Ù´Â Á¡Àº ¿ì¸® ºÒ¶õ¼¿Í À¯·´ÀÇ ¿¾ ¹®È°¡ Áö´Ñ Ư¡À̱⵵ ÇÏ´Ù: »îÀÌ, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »îÀÌ, À̵é ü°èµéÀÇ ¿µÇâÀ» ¹ÞÀº ÀûÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù´Â »ç½ÇÀÌ ¾îµð¿¡ ³ªÅ¸³ª´Â°¡? öÇÐÀûÀΠü°èµéÀÌ Á÷Á¢ÀûÀÌ°íµµ °ð¹Ù·Î Àû¿ëµÇ¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â ¸»Àº ÇÏÁö ¾Ê°Ú´Ù : ±×·¯³ª ´ÙÀ½ ´ë¾Èµé Áß¿¡¼ Çϳª´Â Áø½ÇÀ̾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù.
Either these
systems are within us and permeate our being to the point of supporting life
itself (and if this is the case, what use are books?), or they do not
permeate us and therefore do not have the capacity to support life (and in this
case what does their disappearance matter?).
We must insist
upon the idea of culture-in-action, of culture growing within us like a new
organ, a sort of second breath; and on civilization as an applied culture controlling
even our subtlest actions, a presence of mind; the distinction between culture
and civilization is an artificial one, providing two words to signify an identical
function.
A civilized man judges and is judged according to his behavior, but
even the term "civilized" leads to confusion: a cultivated "civilized"
man is regarded as a person instructed in systems, a person who thinks in forms,
signs, representations --- a monster whose faculty of deriving thoughts from
acts, instead of identifying acts with thoughts, is developed to an absurdity.
If our life
lacks brimstone, i.e., a constant magic, it is because we choose to observe
our acts and lose ourselves in consideration of their imagined form instead
of being impelled by their force.
And this
faculty is an exclusively human one. I would even say that it is this infection
of the human which contaminates ideas that should have remained divine; for
far from believing that man invented the supernatural and the divine, I think
it is man's age-old intervention which has ultimately corrupted the divine within
him.
All
our ideas about life must be revised in a period when nothing any longer adheres
to life; ¿ì¸®´Â Áö±Ý ¾î¶°ÇÑ °Íµµ »î°ú ¿¬°üÀÌ ¾ÈµÇ´Â ½Ã´ë¿¡ »ì°í
ÀÖÀ¸¹Ç·Î »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »ý°¢µéÀ» ¹Ù²ÙÁö ¾ÊÀ¸¸é ¾ÈµÈ´Ù. it is this painful cleavage which
is responsible for the
Preface 9
revenge of things; the poetry which is no longer
within us and which we no longer succeed in finding in things suddenly appears
on their wrong side: consider the unprecedented number of crimes whose perverse
gratuitousness is explained only by our powerlessness to take complete possession
of life.
If the theater
has been created as an outlet for our repressions, the agonized poetry expressed
in its bizarre corruptions of the facts of life demnonstrates that life's intensity
is still intact and asks only to be better directed.
But no matter
how loudly we clamor for magic in our lives, we are really afraid of pursuing
an existence entirely under its influence and sign.
Hence our confirmed lack
of culture is astonished by certain grandiose anomalies; for example, on an
island without any contact with modern civilization, the mere passage of a ship
carrying only healthy passengers may provoke the sudden outbreak of diseases
unknown on that island but a specialty of nations like our own : singles, influenza,
grippe, rheumatism, sinusitis, polyneuritis, etc.
Similarly,
if we think Negroes smell bad, we are ignorant of the fact that anywhere but
in Europe it is we whites who "smell bad." And I would even say that
we give off an odor as white as the gathering of pus in an infected wound. ¸¶Âù°¡Áö·Î ¸¸ÀÏ ¿ì¸®°¡ ´Ï±×·Îµé¿¡°Ô¼´Â ½ÉÇÑ ³¿»õ°¡ ³´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù¸é, À¯·´À» Á¦¿ÜÇÑ ´Ù¸¥ ¸ðµç °÷¿¡¼´Â ½ÉÇÑ ³¿»õ°¡ ³ª´Â °ÍÀº ¹Ù·Î ¿ì¸® ¹éÀεéÀ̶ó´Â »ç½Ç¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¿ì¸®°¡ ¹«ÁöÇÑ °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
As iron can be heated until it turns
white, so it can be said that everything excessive is white; for Asiatics white
has to become the mark of extreme decomposition.
¾î¶°ÇÑ °Íµµ »î°ú ¹ÐÂøµÇÁö ¸øÇÏ°í ¸ðµÎ°¡ °Ñµµ´Â ½Ã´ë¿¡
¿ì¸®°¡ »ì°í ÀÖ´Ù¸é »î¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¿ì¸®°¡ Áö´Ñ ¸ðµç »ý°¢µéÀ» ¹Ù²ã¾ß ÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¼è¿¡
¿À» °è¼Ó °¡ÇÏ¸é ±× ¼è´Â Èò»öÀ¸·Î º¯ÇϵíÀÌ Áö³ªÄ£ °ÍÀº ¸ðµÎ Èñ´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¼ö°¡
ÀÖ´Ù; ¾Æ½Ã¾ÆÀεéÀº Èò»öÀ̶õ ¿ø·¡ÀÇ »öÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ½ÉÇÏ°Ô º¯ÁúµÇ¸é (»öÀÌ ¸ðµÎ ¹Ù·¡¾î
¾ø¾îÁö¸é) ³ªÅ¸³ª´Â °ÍÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇÑ´Ù.
This
said, we can begin to form an idea of culture, an idea which is first of all
a protest.ÀÌ Á¤µµ·Î À̾߱⸦ ÇßÀ¸´Ï ÀÌÁ¦ ¿ì¸®´Â ¹®È¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ý°¢À»
´Ù½Ã ¸¸µé¾î °¡¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ¹®È¿¡ ´ëÇÑ »ý°¢À̶õ ¿ì¼± ÀúÇ×ÀÌ´Ù.
A protest against
the senseless constraint imposed upon the idea of culture ÀÌ ÀúÇ×Àº ¹®È¶ó´Â °³³ä¿¡ ºÎ¿©µÇ´Â Àǹ̾ø°í Ȳ´çÇÑ Á¦¾à°ú
±¸¼Ó¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀúÇ×ÀÌ´Ù. by
reducing it to a sort of inconceivable Pantheon, producing an idolatry no different
from the image-worship of those religion which relegate their gods to Pantheons.
10 The Theater and Its Double
A protest against the idea of culture
as distinct from life --- as if there were culture on one side and life on the
other, as if true culture were not a refined means of understanding and exercising
life. ÀÌ ÀúÇ×Àº ¹®È¶õ »î°ú ±¸º°µÇ´Â º°°³ÀÇ °ÍÀ̶ó´Â »ý°¢¿¡
´ëÇÑ ÀúÇ×ÀÌ´Ù. ÇÑÂÊ¿¡´Â ¹®È°¡ ´Ù¸¥ ÇÑÂÊ¿¡´Â »îÀÌ ÀÖ°í ÀÌ µÑÀº ¼·Î ¾Æ¹«·± °ü·ÃÀÌ
¾ø´Â º°°³ÀÇ °ÍÀÎ¾ç »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â ÀϹÝÀûÀÎ Ãß¼¼¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ÀúÇ×ÀÌ´Ù.
The library
at Alexandria can be burnt down. There are forces above and beyond papyrus:
we may temporarily be deprived of our ability to discover these forces, but their energy will not be suppressed. ¾Ë·º»êµå¸®¾ÆÀÇ µµ¼°üÀº ºÒ¿¡ Ÿ ¾ø¾îÁú ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. ±×·¡µµ Á¾ÀÌ À§¿Í Á¾ÀÌ ³Ê¸Ó¿¡´Â ÈûÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù: ¿ì¸®´Â ÀϽÃÀûÀ¸·Î´Â À̰°Àº ÈûÀ» ¹ß°ßÇÏ´Â ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ´É·ÂÀ» »©¾Ñ±æ ¼öµµ ÀÖ´Ù, ±×·¯³ª ±× ÈûÀÌ ¹ß»êÇÏ´Â ¿¡³ÊÁö´Â ¾ï´©¸¦ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. It is good that our excessive facilities are no longer available, that forms fall into oblivion; a culture without space or time, restrained only by the capacity of our own nerves, will reappear with all the more energy. It is right that from time to time cataclysms occur which compel us to return to nature, it.e., to rediscover life. The old totemism of animals, stones, objects capable of discharging thunderbolts, costumes impregnated with bestial essences --- everything, in short, that might determine, disclose, and direct the secret forces of the universe --- is for us a dead thing, from which we derive nothing but static and aesthetic profit, the profit of an audience, not of an actor.
Yet totemism is an actor, for it moves, and has been created in behalf of actors; all true culture relies upon the barbaric and primitive means of totemism whose savage, i.e., entirely spontaneous, life I wish to worship.
What has lost us culture is our Occidental idea of art and the profits we seek to derive from it. Art and culture cannot be considered together, contrary to the treatment universally accorded them!
True culture operates by exaltation and force, while the European ideal of art attempts to cast the mind into an attitude distinct from force but addicted to exaltation. It is a lazy, unserviceable notion which engenders an imminent death. If the Serpent Quetzalcoatl's multiple twists and turns are harmonious, it is because they express the equilibrium and fluctuations of a sleeping force; the intensity of the
Preface 11
forms is there only to seduce and direct a force which, in music, would produce an insupportable range of sound.
The gods that sleep in museums : the god of fire with his incense burner that resembles an Inquisition tripod; Tlaloc, one of the manifold Gods of the Waters, on his wall of green granite; the Mother Goddess of Waters, the Mother Goddess of Flowers; the immutable expression, echoing from beneath many layers of water, of the Goddess robed in green jade; the enraptured, blissful expression, features crackling with incense, where atoms of sunlight circle -- the countenance of the Mother Goddess of Flowers; this world of obligatory servitude in which a stone comes alive when it has been properly carved, the world of organically civilized men whose vital organs too awaken from their slumber, this human world enters into us, participating in the dance of the gods without turning round or looking back, on pain of becoming, like ourselves, crumbled pillars of salt.
In Mexico, since we are talking about Mexico, there is no art: things are made for use. And the world is in perpetual exaltation.
To our disinterested and inert idea of art an authentic culture opposes a violently egoistic and magical, i.e., interested idea. For the Mexicans seek contact with the
Manas, forces latent in every form, unreleased by contemplation of the forms for themselves, but springing to life by magic identification with these forms. And the old Totems are there to hasten the communication.
How hard
it is, when everything encourages us to sleep, though we may look about us with
conscious, clinging eyes, to wake and yet look about us as in a dream, with
eyes that no longer know their function and whose gaze is turned inward.
This is how our strange idea of disinterested action originated, though it is action nonetheless, and all the more violent for skirting the temptation of repose.
12 The Theater and Its Double
Every real effigy has a shadow which is its double; and art must falter and fail from the moment the sculptor believes he has liberated the kind of shadow whose very existence will destroy his repose.
Like all magic cultures expressed by appropriate hieroglyphs, the true theater has its shadows too, and, of all languages and all arts, the theater is the only one left whose shadows have shattered their limitations. From the beginning, one might say its shadow did not tolerate limitations.
Our petrified idea of the theater is connected with our petrified idea of a culture without shadows, where, no matter which way it turns, our mind (esprit) encounters only emptiness, though space is full.
But the true theater, because it moves and makes use of living instruments, continues to stir up shadows where life has never ceased to grope its way. The actor does not make the same gestures twice, but he makes gestures, he moves; and although he brutalizes forms, nevertheless behind them and through their destruction he rejoins that which outlives forms and produces their continuation.
And the fixation of the theater in one language --- written words, music, lights, noises --- betokens its imminent ruin, the choice of any one language betraying a taste for the special effects of that language; and the dessication of the language accompanies its limitation.
For the theater as for culture, it remains a question of naming and directing shadows: and the theater, not confined to a fixed language and form, not only destroys false shadows but prepares the way for a new generation of shadows, around which assembles the true spectacle of life.
Preface 13
To break through language in order to touch life is to create or recreate the theater; the essential thing is not to believe that this act must remain sacred, i.e., set apart --- the essential thing is to believe that not just anyone can create it, and that there must be a preparation.
À̰ÍÀº Àΰ£°ú ±× Àΰ£ÀÇ ´É·Â¿¡ ÈçÈ÷ ºÎ¿©µÇ´Â Á¦¾à°ú Á¦ÇÑÀ» °ÅºÎÇÏ°í ¿ì¸®°¡ Çö½ÇÀ̶ó°í ºÎ¸£´Â ¹Ì°³Ã´Áö¸¦ ¹«ÇÑÈ÷ È®´ëÇØ³ª°¡¾ß ÇÑ´Ù´Â ¶æÀÌ´Ù. This leads to the rejection of the usual limitations of man and man's powers, and infinitely extends the frontiers of what is called reality.
¿ì¸®´Â ¿¬±Ø¿¡ ÀÇÇØ »õ·Ó°Ô ´Ùµë¾îÁø »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ °¨°¢À» ¹Ï¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »õ·Î¿î °¨°¢Àº ¿ì¸®·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý µÎ·Á¿ò¾øÀÌ ÀÚ½ÅÀ» ¾ÆÁ÷Àº Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â ¾î¶² °ÍÀÇ ÁÖÀÎÀÌ µÇ°Ô ÇÏ°í ±× Á¸ÀçÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â °ÍÀ» Á¸ÀçÇÏ°Ô ¸¸µç´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ ´Ü¼øÈ÷ ³²ÀÇ »ý°¢°ú ¸»À» ³ìÀ½±âó·³ µû¶óÇÏ´Â À¯±âü·Î ¸Ó¹°·¯Àִµ¥ ¸¸Á·ÇÏÁö ¾Ê°í ³ª¼¼ ³ë·ÂÇÑ´Ù¸é Å¿©³ªÁöµµ ¾ÊÀº ¸ðµç °Í¿¡ »ý¸íÀ» ºÒ¾î³Ö¾î »ì¾Æ³ª°Ô ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. We must believe
in a sense of life renewed by the theater, a sense of life in which man fearlessly
makes himself master of what does not yet exist, and brings it into being. And
everything that has not been born can still be brought to life if we are not
satisfied to remain mere recording organisms.
¶ÇÇÑ ¿ì¸®°¡ »îÀ̶ó´Â ´Ü¾î¸¦ ¾ð±ÞÇÒ ¶§, ÀÌ ´Ü¾î´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ Ç¥ÇÇÀûÀ¸·Î ¾Æ´Â »îÀ» ÀǹÌÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó Çüüµµ ¾ø°í ¿¬¾àÇÏ°í º¯È¹«½ÖÇÑ »îÀÇ ÇÙ½ÉÀ» ÀǹÌÇÑ´Ù´Â Á¡À» ÀÌÇØÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ¿ì¸® ½Ã´ë¿¡ Á¤¸»·Î ÀúÁÖ¹Þ¾Æ ¸¶¶¥ÇÒ ÀÏÀº ÈÇüÀ» ´çÇÏ¸é¼ ºÒ±æ¼Ó¿¡¼ ½ÅÈ£¸¦ º¸³»´Â Èñ»ýÁ¦¹°ÀÌ µÇ´Â ´ë½Å¿¡ Çü½ÄÀ» °®°í ¿¹¼úÀû Àå³À» ÇÏ¸ç ½Ã°£À» ³¶ºñÇÏ´Â ÀÏÀÌ´Ù. Furthermore, when we speak the
word "life," it must be understood we are not referring to life as
we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center
which forms never reach. And if there is still one hellish, truly accursed thing
in our time, it is our artistic dallying with forms, instead of being like victims
burnt at the stake, signaling through the flames.