Is art a hammer, or a mirror? Is it that we create in order to to change, critique, or expound upon some thing or idea? Or, is it that we simply take that thing or idea, raise it, and reflect it as a truthful, objective reflection of the “actual world,” without any intention of manifesting “change”? The answer depends on what the artist decides is of more importance: what a piece does, or how well it is made. It is the question of function vs. form, and is the preeminent ideological debate being held in theatre in the twenty-first century—not because there are consummate intellectual battles being fought and won by either side, but because it seems to be the most basic argument an artist can make. But, there is a problem: whatever its purpose, this statement carries with it a contradiction, one that can be harmful to the young artist who, for lack of ideological knowledge, slouches towards dogma. 

 

A brief epistemological background: Ethical Criticism, the study of to what extent, and in what ways one should critique art with regards to its moral versus aesthetic features, establishes Moralism as the ideological branch concerned with morality above aesthetics, and Autonomism, as its antithesis. In truth, these concepts are not entirely disparate, as Autonomism is not necessarily “anti-morality,” but, simply, of the persuasion that the moral and aesthetic features of a piece are autonomous, in the way that the merits or defects of either a piece’s aesthetic or moral features does not denigrate from the quality of the other. In reference to the allegory of the hammer and mirror, Moralists tend to find themselves on the side of the hammer, and Autonomists on the side of the mirror. However, it must be understood that it is not, I find, Autonomism that is being argued for by young playwrights and directors, but something entirely different, more akin to a form of anti-moralism, in which one vouchsafes the sanctity of a show which attempts to be entirely devoid of morality, or of any explicit attempt to change or critique any and all contemporary social dilemmas. It is a bastardization of Autonomism that we find in the theatre which I will refer to as Reflectionism, since those I speak of believe it possible to objectively reflect the truth of the "actual world" on stage without injecting the personal morality of the playwright, or creator. The Reflectionists argue that this "personal morality," or perspective, can, and does, often muddle the "truth" of a piece, superseding the reality of the given circumstances, and detracting from its aesthetic features—from its semblance to the “actual” These people are quite easy to spot by their coveted maxim, something in the vein of  “[wanting] to make good art,” and pondering as to “why [would] it have to mean anything?” This logic means well, and is an attempt at lifting up theatre as an art, as a form—but it is flawed, and a poor ideological foundation for the young actor. In this essay, I will strive to prove the importance of understanding how art cannot be without morality, and how the idea of putting the “actual world” on stage—the idea of theatre as a “mirror”—is an impossibility.

 

Let us begin by discussing the purpose of a mirror in literal terms. What does a mirror do? Well, it reflects the objective, actual world; that is, things as they truly are. When I hold my hand up to a mirror, my hand is reflected exactly as it is; the mirror does not do, change, or comment on anything, per se—it is an inert, unfeeling object that does not bend the “actual” for any purpose. Now, applied to theatre: a show which intends to be like a mirror would, then, hope to achieve an objective reflection of things as they truly are—meaning that the playwright would be disallowed from commenting or coming to any conclusion regarding any questions of morality which would, theoretically, reflect the “personal morality” of the artist rather than the “objective morality” which naturally arises from the presentation of real, human truth on stage. What does this mean? It means that the playwright who wants to reflect the “actual,” must denigrate their subjectivity—or their perspective—so that their own biases, or personal morality, do not interfere with things as they truly are. Now, I have purposely skirted around a very dangerous word here, being “reality,” choosing instead to substitute the word “actual” or “truth;” I do this in order to maintain a necessary prerequisite in order for something to be considered a mirror: objectivity. “Reality” does not mean “universality,” it is not things as they are, but things as one sees them to be; it is not the “objective truth” of the actual; rather, it is an individual, subjective understanding of things. My “reality” is different from yours in the way that we each hold things, ideas, or opinions in wildly different regards due to inherent differences in our respective experiences. In order for a show to be constituted as a mirror, it would have to reflect the “actual,” not “reality,” since the actual is the true, objective quintessence of things, while reality is a subjective, moral perspective. But, is it possible to create something which is completely devoid of perspective, something that is not marred by one's individual understanding of things? 

 

To answer this, why don’t we attempt to create a theoretical work which would hypothetically fulfill our criteria—something that is objectively true, sans perspective, personal morality, or intention. If we were to take a holistic look at art, we could point to those painters whose style can be classified as “hyper-realism,” in which the point is to paint something so precisely as to make it look like a high-definition photograph. This is the closest an artist can get to objectivity: a literal reflection of the actual. The competent hyper-realistic painter would, no doubt, satisfy the objective truth in terms of the aesthetic features of things, yet, upon further inspection, still fails when it comes to questions of personal morality, perspective, and intention. “But,” you say, “the painter has succeeded in making something which looks to be a photograph, and a photograph is simply a literal translation of any given moment in time, devoid of intention in the way that the artist is not literally attempting to do, say, or change anything by their presentation of any given subject.” It is precisely here where subjectivity is lost. I argue that the very act of choosing one’s subject is a moral designation, and a reflection of the artist’s own personal morality. Here’s my reasoning: If we ask the hyper-realistic painter why they have chosen for their subject, say, an apple, how can they answer if not with personal moral reasoning? They cannot say, “because [they] like how the apple looks”—this is to say that the "aesthetic features" of an apple are worth being looked at, raised and reflected as a truthful reflection of the actual. Worth—and I would even go so far as to say all individual perceptions of what aesthetic beauty means—is not dependent on the objective, actual beauty of things as they really are, but on the artist’s perception of beauty, or their experiences surrounding their subject such as “apples” which, then, makes them think, even subconsciously, that that thing is "beautiful," or worth choosing as a subject. Piggy-backing off of this loose metaphor, let’s say that for one hyper-realistic artist, apples were a staple childhood snack: it reminds them of home, of summer, and soccer games, and of the tree at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. That is not to say that that is what an apple actually means, but what it has meant in this artist’s individual reality. Conversely, another painter may associate negative connotations to an apple, and, therefore, will choose not to have it as their subject. The choice needn't even be a “conscious” decision, since one cannot say that one comprehends all things which one does not choose to do when choosing to do something in particular. If an artist were to say that there was no particular reason for them having chosen their subject, that is to say the subject means nothing to them—which is either very untrue or very uninteresting. 

 

“But,” I hear the Reflectionists say, “it isn’t that it is meaningless, it simply isn’t meant to do or say anything in particular. There may be moral qualities or features which spring naturally from the given circumstances, but they are (and should be) unintentional side-effects of the portrayal of the ‘real’ on stage.” This is, essentially, an attempt at asserting oneself as being “a-moral,” or “moral-less.” This is impossible since, as we have seen, the very act of choosing a subject is to say “this, not that;” not to mention that the “real” cannot be portrayed on stage, only a personal version of ones own reality, or the way one sees things. And, as previously stated, it doesn’t need to be a conscious decision: what one chooses to make and who it is about is a reflection of the personal morality of the artist. In truth, the “a-moral” playwright is, more often than not, plainly against the morals of common morality plays, and grasps at Reflectionism not because it is constructive or interesting, but, simply, because it frees them from the burden of giving answers to actual problems of reality, as opposed to the soft straw-men and theatrical conventions which topple so much more easily. Playwrights and creatives who find themselves in the “a-moral” camp are, in actuality, quite often making a moral argument against mainstream morality. 

 

From this closer inspection into contemporary moralism in theatre, it is obvious that what the Reflectionists fail to understand is that there is no such thing as a “mirror” on stage, only hammers of varying degrees. There is an argument to be made regarding “to what degree” morality belongs in theatre, but there is no room for it to be removed in its entirety. A play is a problem, and art an idea. To argue for a deconstructive idea—an idea which argues for the reduction of the perspective of the artist—is to rely not on conscious decision making, but on pure inspiration, or genius; that is, it is to say that the artist gets in their own way, that they know not what they do. We are uninterested in genius here. I write this article to push the young actor, the young artist, to trust their senses, to push for more: more opinion, more perspective, more style! Do not degrade your ideas for the sake of seeking genius, they are, in terms of numbers, the least of artists; here, we are interested in art which results from, primarily, conscious decision making as this is useful to the ninety-nine percent of us who aren't born seemingly perfect. Furthermore, to relegate personal morality to nothing more than a distraction is to debase the greatest theatrical minds of history, and supplant those very same people whom Reflectionists refer to as “geniuses.”

 

I leave you with this thought from Uta Hagen, “... Truth in life as it is, is not truth on stage... bring real snow into the theater [and] it will melt, even before the curtain goes up.”

 

 

(June 2023)