‘EVEN THOSE WITH a mathematical allergy can enjoy du Sautoy’s depictions of his cast of characters,’ declared Martin Rees in The Times, and he praised Marcus du Sautoy for writing ‘an entertaining mix that renders an austere subject palatable’.
Other reviewers seemed similarly surprised to have been so entertained by the company of mathematicians, and in the Financial Times Peter Forbes was amazed that ‘as Marcus du Sautoy thrillingly shows, mathematicians love numbers so much that they invest them with the properties of things’.
In the Guardian Graham Farmelo praised ‘this delightfully entertaining book’ for ‘setting up a compelling dramatis personae of mathematicians, with every character vividly illuminated with anecdotes and felicitous comment’.
In the Independent Scarlett Thomas recommended ‘a gripping, entertaining and thought-provoking book’, telling her readers that ‘Du Sautoy is certainly a brilliant storyteller.’
By Josh Lacey
IT IS AN ABSTRACT space where you create things which are possible to imagine but impossible to build in reality. It is an art form created under huge constraints. It is an attempt to express the inexpressible. It is necessarily elitist, because it is expensive, time-consuming, mentally challenging and physically draining. Very few people have the skill or patience to follow its disciplines, and not many more will appreciate the final results. The theatre of Jerzy Grotowski is among the most interesting artistic practices of the twentieth century – and, according to Marcus du Sautoy, bears many similarities, literal and metaphorical, to the study of mathematics.
On 11 August 1933 Jerzy Grotowski was born in Rzeszow, a small town near the eastern border of Poland. His father fought in the Second World War, then fled Poland, deserting his family, and went to live in South America. Grotowski continued living in the countryside with his mother and brother, and never saw his father again. At the age of seventeen Grotowski moved to Krakow, where he won a place at the Theatre School. After graduating, he travelled to Moscow and did a year’s course at the State Institute of Dramatic Arts, devoting himself to a serious study of Stanislavsky’s theories and method.
‘The theatre of Jerzy Grotowski is among the most interesting artistic practices of the twentieth century.’
Returning to Krakow, Grotowski found work as a director. His first professional production was Ionesco’s The Chairs, followed by Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. On the basis of some favourable attention from critics, Grotowski was appointed as artistic director of a tiny theatre in Opole. Funded by a meagre public subsidy, he worked with a small group of actors, creating extraordinary performances which were seen by almost no one. He adjusted the auditorium so the theatre could seat only twenty-five spectators, but even those few seats often remained empty.
‘Grotowski saw the audience simply as privileged spectators of a mystical experience undergone by the actors.’
In 1963 international participants at a Polish theatre festival were taken to Opole to see a production of Dr Faustus. Their wildly enthusiastic reaction suddenly made Grotowski into a well-known figure. He moved to Wroclaw and started the Teatr Laboratorium, a group dedicated to exploring his artistic theories and theatrical ideals. Although they performed rarely, and always to small audiences, Grotowski’s reputation grew. He was invited to stage productions throughout Europe and the USA, and attracted enthusiastic supporters, most famously Peter Brook and André Gregory.
When Grotowski started the Teatr Laboratorium he deliberately imitated the Bohr Institute, the research centre founded at the University of Copenhagen by the Danish physicist, Niels Bohr. Grotowski tried to impose a scientific rigour on his work. He refused to view theatre as entertainment, and had little interest in the audience’s experience. Although he redesigned the theatrical space, bringing the audience and actors closer together, he saw the audience simply as privileged spectators of a mystical experience undergone by the actors. He wrote that he was on a ‘quest for what is most essential in life. Different names have been invented for it; in the past these names usually had a religious sound. I do not think it possible for myself to invent religious names; furthermore I do not feel any need for inventing words.’ He developed a theatrical method, based initially on the principles of Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Actions, which demanded extraordinary personal commitment from his actors. Borrowing actions and ideas from tribal cultures and religious rituals, he tried to re-create the transcendental experience which seems to have been prevalent in primitive cultures but unobtainable in modern society.
Grotowski travelled widely and educated himself in a broad range of approaches to theatre and performance. He put his actors through a rigorous physical training, using mime, Tai-Chi, yoga, Japanese Noh Theatre and a wide variety of other influences, searching for objective laws which governed the artistic process and the theatrical experience. These physical techniques were combined with mental and spiritual training, designed to uncover the heart of the actors and, finally, discover what Grotowski called the ‘Universal Self.’
‘Borrowing actions and ideas from tribal cultures and religious rituals, he tried to re-create a transcendental experience.’
The Teatr Laboratorium’s audiences were necessarily tiny. Grotowski’s name became famous largely through the work of his disciples and imitators, and few people actually experienced his theatre first hand. As Grotowski grew older he retreated further from the world. He had never shared the common theatrical obsessions with celebrity and cash, but he slowly lost any interest in performance or even communication with the wider world. He built a studio in Tuscany and gathered a small group of actors, who had to sacrifice almost everything – money, ambition, friends, family – in their quest for truth. There Grotowski continued his researches, and died in 1999.
‘Good maths is unambiguous, whereas only bad art lacks ambiguity.’
Like mathematics, Grotowski’s theatre is cerebral, elitist and inventive. Both demand great discipline and commitment from their practitioners, and appeal to very small audiences. The great difference between mathematics and theatre is not in the process of creation, but the final product. When a mathematician stands on a stage and presents his findings to an audience, he hopes they will follow him through every logical step of his proof. At the end of the lecture the audience will, if the mathematician has been successful, understand exactly what he wanted to say and reach an identical conclusion. There is no room for ambiguity.
In theatre the opposite is true. At the end of a theatrical performance every member of the audience will be left with completely different ideas, impressions and emotions. Only at the end of a bad play will each member of the audience be certain that they understood exactly what the author intended, or will a critic be able to write, ‘What the dramatist wanted to say is such-and-such.’ Good maths is unambiguous, whereas only bad art lacks ambiguity.