First there was complete darkness. A moment later a large lamp was lighted on the table near which I was seated. The shade of the lamp threw the circle of the rays down on my head and hands, and made a bright light on the centre of the table, where there was a number of small things. These shone and reflected all sorts of different colours. The rest of the stage and the hall were swallowed up in darkness.
‘This lighted space on the table’, said the Director, ‘illustrates a Small Circle of Attention. You yourself, or rather your head and hands, on which the light falls, are the centre of this circle.’
The effect on me was like magic. All the little knick-knacks on the table drew my attention without any forcing or any instruction on my part. In a circle of light, in the midst of darkness, you have the sensation of being entirely alone. I felt even more at home in this circle of light than in my own room.
In such a small space as in this circle you can use your concentrated attention to examine various objects in their most intricate details, and also to carry on more complicated activities, such as defining shades of feeling and thought. Evidently the Director realized my state of mind, for he came right up to the edge of the stage and said: ‘Make a note immediately of your mood; it is what we call Solitude in Public. You are in public because we are all here. It is solitude because you are divided from us by a small circle of attention. During a performance, before an audience of thousands, you can always enclose yourself in this circle like a snail in its shell.’
After a pause he announced that he would now show us a Medium Circle; everything became dark; the spotlight then illumined a fairly large area, with a group of several pieces of furniture, a table, some chairs with students sitting on them, one corner of the piano, the fireplace with a big arm-chair in front of it. I found myself in the centre of the medium light circle. Of course we could not take in everything at once, but had to examine the area bit by bit, object by object, each thing within the circle making an independent point.
The greatest drawback was that the larger area of lighting produced reflected half-tones that fell on things beyond the circle, so that the wall of darkness did not seem impenetrable.
‘Now you have the Large Circle,’ he went on. The whole living-room was flooded with light. The other rooms were dark, but soon lamps were turned on in them also, and the Director pointed out: ‘That is the very Largest Circle. Its dimensions depend on the length of your eyesight. Here in this room I have extended the circle as far as is possible. But if we were standing on the seashore or on a plain, the circle would be limited only by the horizon. On the stage such distant perspectives are furnished by the painting on the back-drop.
‘Now let us try to repeat the exercises you have just done, except that this time we shall have all the lights on.’
We all sat down on the stage, around the large table, with the large lamp. I was just where I had been a few moments before, and felt for the first time the sensation of being alone in public. Now we were supposed to renew this feeling in full light with only a mental outline to make the circle of attention.
When we were unsuccessful in our attempts the Director explained to us why.
‘When you have a spot of light surrounded by darkness’, he said, ‘all the objects inside of it draw your attention because everything outside it being invisible there is no attraction there. The outlines of such a circle are so sharp and the encircling shadow so solid that you have no desire to go beyond its limits.
‘When the lights are on you have an entirely different problem. As there is no obvious outline to your circle you are obliged to construct one mentally and not allow yourself to look beyond it. Your attention must now replace the light, holding you within certain limits, and this in spite of the drawing power of all sorts of objects now visible outside of it. Therefore since the conditions, with and without the spotlight, are opposite, the method of maintaining the circle must change.’
He then outlined the given area by a series of objects in the room.
For instance, the round table outlined one circle, the smallest; in another part of the stage a rug, somewhat larger than the table on it, made a Medium Circle; and the largest rug in the room defined a Large Circle.
‘Now let us take the whole apartment, the Largest Circle,’ said the Director.
Here everything that had helped me up to now to concentrate, failed, and—I felt powerless.
To encourage us he said:
‘Time and patience will teach you how to use the method I just suggested to you. Don’t forget it and meantime I will show you another technical device which will help to direct your attention. As the circle grows larger the area of your attention must stretch. This area, however, can continue to grow only up to the point where you can still hold it all within the limits of your attention, inside an imaginary line. As soon as your border begins to waver, you must withdraw quickly to a smaller circle which can be contained by your visual attention.
‘At this point you will often get into trouble. Your attention will slip and become dissipated in space. You must collect it again and redirect it as soon as possible to one single point or object, such as, for instance, that lamp. It will not seem as bright as it did when there was darkness all around it, nevertheless it will still have the power to hold your attention.
‘When you have established that point, surround it with a small circle with the lamp at its centre. Then enlarge it to a medium circle which will include several smaller ones. These will not be reinforced each by a central point. If you must have such a point, choose a new object and surround it with another small circle. Apply the same method to a medium circle.’
But each time the area of our attention was stretched to a certain point we lost control of it. As each experiment failed the Director made new attempts.
After a time he went on to another phase of the same idea.
‘Have you noticed’, he said, ‘that up to now you have always been in the centre of the circle? Yet you may sometimes find yourself outside. For example——’
Everything became dark; then a ceiling light, in the next room, was lighted, throwing a spot on the white tablecloth and the dishes.
‘Now you are beyond the limits of the small circle of your attention. Your role is a passive one; one of observation. As the circle of light is extended, and the illuminated area in the dining-room grows, your circle also becomes larger and larger, and the area of your observation increases in the same ratio. Also you can use the same method of choosing points of attention in these circles that lie beyond you.’
6
When I exclaimed today that I wished I need never be separated from the small circle, the Director replied:
‘You can carry it with you wherever you go, on the stage or off. Get up on the stage and walk around. Change your seat. Behave as you would if you were at home.’
I got up and took several steps in the direction of the fireplace. Everything became entirely dark; then from somewhere appeared a spotlight, that moved along with me. In spite of moving about I felt at home and comfortable in the centre of a small circle. I paced up and down the room, the spotlight following me. I walked to the window and it came also, I sat down at the piano, still with the light. That convinced me that the small circle of attention that moves about with you is the most essential and practical thing I have yet learned.
To illustrate its use the Director told us a Hindu tale, about a Maharajah who, about to choose a minister, announced that he would take only the man who could walk around on top of the city walls, holding a dish full to the brim with milk, without spilling a drop. A number of candidates, yelled at, frightened, or in other ways distracted, spilled the milk. ‘Those’, said the Maharajah, ‘are no ministers.’
Then came another, whom no scream, no threat, and no form of distraction could cause to take his eyes from the rim of the bowl.
‘Fire!’ said the commander of the troops.
They fired, but with no result.
> ‘There is a real Minister,’ said the Maharajah.
‘Didn’t you hear the cries?’ he was asked.
‘No.’
‘Didn’t you see the attempts to frighten you?’
‘No.’
‘Did you hear the shots?’
‘No. I was watching the milk.’
As another illustration of the moving circle, this time in concrete form, we were each handed a wooden hoop. Some of these hoops were larger, some smaller, according to the size of the circle to be created. As you walk about with your hoop, you get the picture of the moving centre of attention which you have to learn to carry around with you. I found it easier to adapt the suggestion about making a circle out of a series of objects. I could say to myself: from the tip of my left elbow across my body to my right elbow, including my legs that come forward as I walk, will be my circle of attention. I found I could easily carry this circle around with me, enclose myself in it, and in it find solitude in public. Even on the way home, in the confusion of the street, in the bright sunlight, I found it much easier to draw such a line around myself and stay in it, than it was in the theatre with dimmed footlights, and with a hoop.
7
‘Up to now we have been dealing with what we call external attention,’ said the Director today. ‘This is directed to material objects which lie outside of ourselves.’
He went on to explain what is meant by ‘inner attention’ which centres on things we see, hear, touch and feel in imaginary circumstances. He reminded us of what he said earlier about imagination, and how we felt that the source of a given image was internal and yet was mentally carried over to a point outside of ourselves. To the fact that we see such images with inner vision he added that the same was true of our sense of hearing, smelling, touch and taste.
‘The objects of your “inner attention” are scattered through the whole range of your five senses,’ he said.
‘An actor on the stage lives inside or outside of himself. He lives a real or imaginary life. This abstract life contributes an unending source of material for our inner concentration of attention. The difficulty in using it lies in the fact that it is fragile. Material things around us on the stage call for a well-trained attention, but imaginary objects demand an even far more disciplined power of concentration.
‘What I said on the subject of external attention, at earlier lessons, applies in equal degree to inner attention.
‘The inner attention is of particular importance to an actor because so much of his life takes place in the realm of imaginary circumstances.
‘Outside of work in the theatre, this training must be carried over into your daily lives. For this purpose you can use the exercises we developed for the imagination, as they are equally effective for concentrating attention.
‘When you have gone to bed at night, and put out your light, train yourself to go over your whole day, and try to put in every possible concrete detail. If you are recalling a meal, don’t just remember the food, but visualize the dishes on which it was served, and their general arrangement. Bring back all the thoughts and inner emotions which were touched by your conversation at the meal. At other times refresh your earlier memories.
‘Make an effort to review in detail the apartments, rooms, and various places where you have happened to take a walk, or drunk tea, and visualize individual objects connected with these activities. Try also to recall, as vividly as possible, your friends and also strangers, and even others who have passed away. That is the only way to develop a strong, sharp, solid power of inner and outer attention. To accomplish this requires prolonged and systematic work.
‘Conscientious daily work means that you must have a strong will, determination and endurance.’
8
At our lesson today the Director said:
‘We have been experimenting with outer and inner attention, and making use of objects in a mechanical, photographic, formal way.
‘We have had to do with arbitrary attention, intellectual in its origin. This is necessary for actors but not very frequently. It is particularly useful in collecting attention which has strayed. The simple looking at an object helps to fix it. But it cannot hold you for long. To grasp your object firmly when you are acting you need another type of attention, which causes an emotional reaction. You must have something which will interest you in the object of your attention, and serve to set in motion your whole creative apparatus.
‘It is, of course, not necessary to endow every object with an imaginary life, but you should be sensitive to its influence on you.’
As an example of the distinction between attention based on intellect, and that based on feeling, he said:
‘Look at this antique chandelier. It dates back to the days of the Emperor. How many branches has it? What is its form, its design?
‘You have been using your external, intellectual attention in examining that chandelier. Now I want you to tell me this: do you like it? If so, what is it that especially attracts you? What can it be used for? You can say to yourself: this chandelier may have been in the house of some Field Marshal when he received Napoleon. It may even have hung in the French Emperor’s own room when he signed the historic act concerning the regulations of the Théâtre Français in Paris.
‘In this case your object has remained unchanged. But now you know that imagined circumstances can transform the object itself and heighten the reaction of your emotions to it.’
9
Vassili said today that it seemed to him not only difficult but impossible to be thinking at one and the same time about your role, technical methods, the audience, the words of your part, your cues, and several points of attention as well.
‘You feel powerless in the face of such a task,’ said the Director, ‘and yet any simple juggler in a circus would have no hesitation in handling far more complicated things, risking his life as he does it.
‘The reason why he can do this is that attention is built in many layers and they do not interfere with one another. Fortunately, habit makes a large part of your attention automatic. The most difficult time is in the early stages of learning.
‘Of course, if you have thought up to now that an actor relies merely on inspiration you will have to change your mind. Talent without work is nothing more than raw unfinished material.’
There followed a discussion with Grisha about the fourth wall, the question being how to visualize an object on it without looking at the audience. The Director’s answer to this was:
‘Let us suppose that you are looking at this non-existent fourth wall. It is very near. How should your eyes focus? Almost at the same angle as if you were looking at the tip of your nose. That is the only way in which you can fix your attention on an imaginary object on that fourth wall.
‘And yet what do most actors do? Pretending to look at this imaginary wall they focus their eyes on someone in the orchestra. Their angle of vision is quite different from what it must be to see a nearby object. Do you think that the actor himself, the person opposite to whom he is playing, or the spectator, gets any real satisfaction from such a physiological error? Can he successfully fool either his own nature or ours by doing something so abnormal?
‘Suppose your part calls for looking over to the horizon on the ocean, where the sail of a vessel is still visible. Do you remember how your eyes will be focussed to see it? They will be looking in almost parallel lines. To get them into that position, when you are standing on the stage, you must mentally remove the wall at the far end of the auditorium and find, far beyond it, an imaginary point on which you can fix your attention. Here again an actor will usually let his eyes focus as though he were looking at some one in the orchestra.
‘When, by aid of the required technique, you learn how to put an object in its right place, when you understand the relation of vision to distance, then it will be safe for you to look toward the auditorium, letting your vision go beyond the spectators or stop this side of them. For the present, turn your
face to the right or to the left, above or sideways. Do not be afraid that your eyes will not be seen. Moreover, when you feel the natural necessity to do so, you will find that yours will of their own accord turn towards an object beyond the footlights. When this happens it will be done naturally, instinctively, and rightly. Unless you feel this subconscious need, avoid looking at that non-existing fourth wall, or into the distance, until you have mastered the technique with which it can be done.’
10
At our lesson today the Director said:
‘An actor should be observant not only on the stage, but also in real life. He should concentrate with all his being on whatever attracts his attention. He should look at an object, not as any absent-minded passer-by, but with penetration. Otherwise his whole creative method will prove lopsided and bear no relation to life.
‘There are people gifted by nature with powers of observation. Without effort they form a sharp impression of whatever is going on around them, in themselves, and in others. Also they know how to cull out of these observations whatever is most significant, typical or colourful. When you hear such people talk you are struck by the amount that an unobservant person misses.
‘Other people are unable to develop this power of observation even sufficiently to preserve their own simplest interests. How much less able, then, are they to do it for the sake of studying life itself.
‘Average people have no conception of how to observe the facial expression, the look of the eye, the tone of the voice, in order to comprehend the state of mind of the persons with whom they talk. They can neither actively grasp the complex truths of life nor listen in a way to understand what they hear. If they could do this, life, for them, would be better and easier, and their creative work immeasurably richer, finer and deeper. But you cannot put into a person what he does not possess; he can only try to develop whatever power he may have. In the field of attention this development calls for a tremendous amount of work, time, desire to succeed and systematic practice.
An Actor Prepares Page 9