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BRIEF TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART1 T H E AT R E L I T E R A C Y
1 Theatre, Art, and Entertainment 1
2 Stage versus Screen 22
3 Theatre of the People 42
4 Experiencing and Analyzing Plays 63
PART 2 THE ARTS WITHIN THE ART

5 A Day in the Life of a Theatre 88
6 The Art of Playwriting 109
7 The Art of Acting 127
8 The Art of Directing 148
9 The Art of Design 169
10 A Creative Life 194
11 The Musical 209
PART3 A C O N C I S E H I S T O RY
12 Theatre Around the World 229

13 The Greeks to the Rise of Christianity 256
14 The Dark Ages to the Dawn of the Renaissance 286
Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d

15
16
The Renaissance 306
The Restoration, the Enlightenment, and Romanticism 337
17 Modern Theatre 363
CONTENTS
PART1
T H E AT R E
LITERACY
1
Who Controls the Copyright? 38
Curtain Call 40
SPOTLIGHTS
THEATRE, ART, AND We Hate You but Please Keep Sending Us Baywatch 36
Copyright Law: Infringement, Public Domain, and
ENTERTAINMENT 1 Parody 39
3
Art, or Not Art, That Is the Question 2
The Qualities of Art 5
Human Expression 6
Subject and Medium 6
Response 7 THEATRE OF THE
Perception of Order 8
The Politics of Art 10
PEOPLE 42
Art versus Entertainment 12 Art, Entertainment, and Privilege 44
What Is Theatre? What Is Drama? 16 Theatre and Culture 45
The Common Categories of Theatre 17 Theatre of Identity 46
Curtain Call 20 Theatre of Protest 51
Cross-Cultural Theatre 53
SPOTLIGHTS
Plato, Aristotle, and the Theatre Arts 4
Seeing through Another’s Eyes 57
To Be an Artist Means Finding Form and Structure 9 Culture Wars 59
The Life and Death of Ken Saro-Wiwa 11 Curtain Call 60
SPOTLIGHTS
2
Color Consciousness 48
Karen Finley and the NEA 54
STAGE VERSUS SCREEN 22

The Audience 23 4
EXPERIENCING
Acting: Key Differences 24
Reserved. May not be copied, AND
scanned,
Directing: Key Differences 26 or d
ANALYZING PLAYS 63
Funding and Profit 27
Funding the Screen 28
A Group Activity 64
Funding Theatre and the Arts 29
Group Dynamics 64
Who Is in Control? 34 The Willing Suspension of Disbelief 66
Who Controls Content? 34
viii | CONTENTS
Aesthetic Distance 67 Assessment 76

Levels of Participation 68 Freedom of Speech 81
Sitting Quietly in the Dark 69 Censorship 82
Not Sitting Quietly in the Dark 69 The First Amendment 83
Attending the Theatre 69 Defamation 84
Finding a Play 70 Breach of the Peace 84
Getting Tickets 70 Sedition and Incitement to Crime 84
Saving Money 71 Separation of Church and State 85
Dress Codes 71 Obscenity 86
Before the Play 72 Curtain Call 86
After the Play 74
SPOTLIGHTS
Play Analysis 74 Ovation Inflation 65
Reviews 75 Audiences Behaving Badly 72
Dramatic Criticism 75 Genre 77
PART2
THE ARTS
WITHIN
THE ART
5
10 PM: Clearing Out 106
11 PM: Bringing Out the Ghost Light 106
Curtain Call 107
A DAY IN THE LIFE SPOTLIGHTS
OF A THEATRE 88
The Producers 92
The Stage Manager 94
If It Can Go Wrong, It Will 102
9 AM: Entering Springfield Ensemble Rep by Ghost Light 90
10 AM: Checking Wardrobe and Planning for Next Season 90
6
11 AM: Rehearsing and Building a Show 93
NOON: Fund-Raising, Designing, and Sewing 95
1 PM: More Rehearsing 96
2 PM: Creating Sets and Sounds, and Advising the Director 97 THE ART OF
3 PM: Attending Meetings and Creating a Mission Statement 98
4 PM: Publicizing a Play and Fitting Costumes 98 PLAYWRITING 109
5 PM: Brainstorming a Concept 98
6 PM: Preparing for the Evening Performance 99
The Playwright’s Life 110
The Playwright’s Art 113
7 PM: Opening the House 101 Theme 113
8 PM: Performing the First Act 103 Action 114
9 PM: Performing the Final Act 105
CONTENTS | ix
8
Conflict 115
Language 115
Subtext 115
Imagery 116
Rhythm, Tempo, and Sound 118
THE ART OF
Plot 119 DIRECTING 148
Formula Plots 120
Beginning 120
The Birth of Directors 149
Middle 121 Before Rehearsals Begin 152
End 121 It All Starts with the Script 152
Non-Formula Plots 123 Structural Analysis 153
Curtain Call 125 The Production Concept 156
Casting the Right Actors 156
SPOTLIGHTS
The Director’s Role during Rehearsals 157
The Life of a Playwright: Sarah Ruhl 112
Focus 157
Formula Storytelling—Star Wars compared to
Romeo and Juliet 122
Reinforcing the Story with Pictures 162
How Many Acts? How Many Intermissions? 124 Different Types of Directors 163
Interpretive Directors 163
Creative Directors 164
7
Contemporary Trends 164
Curtain Call 166
SPOTLIGHTS
THE ART OF The Life of a Director: Tisa Chang
Playwright versus Director 165
150
ACTING 127
9
Training to Be an Actor 129
Training the Body 130
Training the Voice 130
Training the Mind 130
Gurus and Mentors: Acting Teachers 131 THE ART OF
Acting Techniques We All Can Use 132
Changing How You Feel 134
DESIGN 169
Empathy and the Magic If 136 From Page to Stage 170
Substitution 137 Doing the Homework 171
Understanding a Character 139 Design Team Meetings 172
Circumstances and Objectives 140 Filling the Empty Space 178
Public and Personal Images 140 Designing the Set 178
Inner Conflicts and Character Flaws 141 Designing the Lights 184
Motivation 141 Designing the Sound 186
The Actor’s Life 142 Designing the Costumes 188
Auditions 143 Designing the Props 190
Rehearsals 143 Makeup, Wigs, and False Noses 191
Performances 145 Curtain Call 191
Curtain Call 146
SPOTLIGHTS
SPOTLIGHTS
Theatre Spaces 172
The Life of an Actor: Terri White 128 Theatrical Styles 176
An Actor’s Nightmare—Forgetting Lines 131 The Life of a Designer: Ming Cho Lee 183
Tadashi Suzuki 133
x | CONTENTS
10
SPOTLIGHTS
Identify Your Intelligences and Cultivate Your Creativity 196
Playfulness: The First Quality of Genius 199
A CREATIVE LIFE 194

Creativity Is More Than Imagination 204
Creativity 195
Creativity and Technique 196
Creativity and Talent 197
11
Creative People 198 THE MUSICAL 209
A Burning Curiosity 200
The Power of Concentration 200 The Many Types of Musicals 210
The Ability to Find Order 200 The Script 211
Mental Agility and the Ability to Find Options 201 From Ballads to Showstoppers 213
The Willingness to Take Risks and Accept Musicals: Then and Now 214
Failure 201 Opera: High Art and Comic Relief 214
Enhancing Your Creativity 202 Early American Musicals 216
Consider Your Environment 202 African American Musicals 219
Temper Your Criticism 202 Railroads, War, and Jazz 219
Assess Your Motivation 203 The Show Boat Revolution 220
Adjust Your Schedule 203 Thoroughly Modern Musicals 222
Let Your Mind Wander 203 The End or a New Beginning? 225
The Need for Solitude 205 Curtain Call 226
Change Your Life 205 SPOTLIGHTS
Creativity Is about Problem Solving 205 Stephen Sondheim 212
Curtain Call 207 Unsung Heroines of the American Musical 220
Hooray for Bollywood! 224
PART3
A
CONCISE
H I S T O RY
12
Invaders: Colonial Forms 232
Postcolonial Forms 234
Indian Theatre 235

THEATRE AROUND Sanskrit Drama 236
One Hundred Thousand Verses 237
THE WORLD 229 The British Invasion 239
Chinese Theatre 240
African Theatre 231 The Opera of Peking 240
Precolonial Forms 232
CONTENTS | xi
14
Western Influences on Chinese Theatre 242
Japanese Theatre 242
Noh Theatre 244
Kabuki Theatre 245
The Japanese Shakespeare: Chikamatsu 248 THE DARK AGES
Western Influences on Japanese Theatre 249 TO THE DA
DAWN OF
Islamic Theatre 249
Shadow Theatre 250 THE RENAISSANCE 286
Religious Drama 251
A Dark Age for Theatre 288
Western Influences on Islamic Theatre 251
The Middle Ages 288
East Meets West 252 From the Churches to the Streets 291
Curtain Call 254 The Fall of Lucifer and Other Entertainments 293
SPOTLIGHTS Pride, Lust, Sloth, and Gluttony: Allegories 294
Masks and Theatre 233 Aristotle Rediscovered 295
Men Playing Women 246 A More Secular Theatre 297
Bunraku Puppets 248
The Renaissance Begins 298
The Printing Press and Subversive Ideas 299
13
Humanists 299
The Demise of Religious Theatre 300
Curtain Call 302
THE GREEKS TO SPOTLIGHTS

Hroswitha: The Nun Who Wrote Plays 290
THE RISE OF The Black Death Takes Center Stage 292
CHRISTIANITY 256
Aristotle and Aristotelian Scholasticism 297
15
The Birth of Tragedy 258
Before Acts and Intermissions 260
From Hubris to Catharsis 261
Tragic Trilogies and Satyr Plays 262
Playwrights of the Golden Age 264 THE RENAISSANCE 306
Aeschylus: The Warrior Playwright 265 The Italian Influence 307
Sophocles: The Wise and Honored One 265 The Rebirth of Slapstick 307
Euripides: Never Afraid to Speak His Mind 265 Classical Correctness 309
Greek Comedies 267 Italian Perspective Scenery 311
Aristotle and Alexander the Great 268 Spanish Theatre 311
Roman Spectacles 271 Elizabethan Theatre 313
The Las Vegas of Ancient Times 272 The World of the Globe 315
Roman Mimes 275 Rogues and Vagabonds 319
2,000-Year-Old Sitcoms 277 Shakespeare and His Contemporaries 321
The Singing, Acting Emperor 279 Christopher Marlowe: A University Man 321
Curtain Call 280 Ben Jonson: The First Poet Laureate 322
SPOTLIGHTS William Shakespeare: The Bard 324
From Extravagant Masques to Puritan Abstinence 328
The Cradle of Western Civilization 257
Oedipus Rex 263
The Mime Who Became an Empress 278
French Theatre 329
Pierre Corneille: The Rule Breaker 330
xii | CONTENTS
17
Jean Racine: The Rule Advocate 331
Molière: The Risk Taker 332
Curtain Call 333
SPOTLIGHTS
Women on Stage 320
MODERN THEA
THEATRE 363
The Most Famous Whodunit in Theatre 326 The Advent of Realism 364
Influences: Darwin, Freud, and Marx 364
16
Box Sets and Fourth Walls 366
Local Flavor and Real People 367
Henrik Ibsen: The Father of Realism 367
George Bernard Shaw: Cerebral and
THE RESTORAT
ORA ION,
ORAT Socially Relevant 369
THE ENLIGHTENMENT,
T
T,
Anton Chekhov: The Lazy Chaos of Life 370
Naturalism: A Slice of Life 372
AND ROMAN
M TICISM 337
MAN The Rise of the Avant-Garde 373
Symbolism to Expressionism 374
The Restoration 338 Absurdism: Beckett, Ionesco, and Pinter 377
The Age of Reason 342 Jean-Paul Sartre: Existentialism 379
Science: A Faith in Reason 343 Bertolt Brecht: Appealing to the Intellect 381
Philosophy: Embracing Doubt 344 Postwar Theatre in the United States 384
Religion: Is Nothing Sacred? 345
Off Broadway, and Off-Off Broadway 385
Theatre during the Enlightenment 346 Contemporary Theatre: It’s Alive! 387
Diderot: The Playwright Who Wrote the Encyclopedia 347
Theatre in the Digital Age 389
Lessing: The Philosopher of the Three Rings 348
Curtain Call 390
Beaumarchais: The Barber Who Started a Revolution 349
Voltaire: Honored Philosopher Who Teaches Men to Think! 350 SPOTLIGHTS
Oscar Wilde 368
Romanticism 353
Chekhov, Stanislavsky, and the Birth of
The Night Romanticism Won 354
Modern Acting 371
Goethe: The Bard of Berlin 355
The Revolt of the Beavers 376
Melodrama 357 Absurdism and Aristotle’s Final Cause 380
Curtain Call 359 McCarthyism, Lillian Hellman, and the Theatre 383
SPOTLIGHTS
Nell Gwyn 339 Glossary 396
Puritans and the Little Church around the Corner 350
Index 408
Traveling Stars and Ira Aldridge 356

PREFACE
W e live in a distracted age where technology has left a lot of digital distance
between us. Yet, in this contemporary world theatre still thrives—an
ancient art form that, at its very core, is driven by compassion and human-to-
human contact.
As theatre professors we looked for a text that would speak to this new digital
generation. Not finding one, we wrote our own. The Art of Theatre employs popular
screen entertainments as a touchstone to exploring the unique art of theatre as it
challenges students to analyze and appreciate the roles dramatic production plays
in society. From theatre’s ritual origins to modern musicals, from controversies sur-
rounding the NEA to the applicability of acting lessons to everyday life, this book
provides a first step toward a deeper awareness of theatre’s enduring significance.
The Art of Theatre is divided into 17 standalone chapters that can be taught
in any order, giving each professor unique flexibility. Using the custom option,
you can design a textbook that explores the precise subjects you wish to cover.
In addition, we have arranged the chapters into three sections, each embracing
a distinct aspect of theatre:
Part 1: Theatre Literacy

Because most theatre departments stage their first play four to five weeks into the term,
Part 1, “Theatre Literacy,” prepares students to be knowledgeable theatregoers. This sec-
tion explores the differences between art and entertainment while illustrating the many
diverse forms of world theatre: commercial, historical, political, experimental, and cul-
tural. We explain how screen entertainment differs from theatre in purpose, medium,
and financing, and describe theatre’s relationships to our many world cultures. We also
discuss theatre etiquette, play analysis, and free speech. By introducing students to these
fundamental topics early on, we provide a bridge between what students already know
about screen entertainments and what they need to know about culture and theatre.
Part 2: The Arts within the Art

Part 2 opens the door to the timelines and techniques employed in creating theatre, explor-
ing the nuts and bolts of the art form. We concentrate first on a day in the life of a typi-
cal theatre, and then move to playwriting, acting, directing, and design. We also include a
chapter on how students, like theatre artists, can employ creativity, and how they can use
acting and design techniques as well as character analysis and story structure in their own
lives. In addition, this section includes a chapter on the evolution of the musical, a fun and
popular theatrical form with which students are often familiar. By the time they are finished
with this part, students should be ready to see their second production with a richer under-
standing of the full spectrum of skills, talents, arts, and creativity needed to stage a play.
Part 3: A Concise History
Part 3 provides students with a broader understanding of theatre’s role in society. Our
approach ties the major episodes of world theatre history to the social, cultural, and
xiv | PREFACE
philosophical movements that the art has both sparked and reflected. We make the-
atre history interesting by drawing connections, making analogies, and joining together
what might seem random events into a logical, unified whole.
Features of This Book

• Thorough coverage of the many forms of theatre and the people who create it
• Broad coverage of cultural and social events that illustrate theatre’s place in
world history
• A chapter devoted to what makes theatre different from film and television
• A chapter dedicated to creativity and how students can be more imaginative
• Spotlights that highlight the people, trends, and events that have shaped theatre
• Interesting and relevant timelines
• A detailed glossary (including pronunciation) of theatre terms
• Discussions on freedom of speech, censorship, and copyrights
• A chapter on how to attend the theatre, from etiquette to criticism
• A complete examination of everything that happens during the day and
night at a typical theatre
• A wide-ranging look at the life and art of playwrights, actors, designers, and
directors
• A chapter devoted to the history and art of musicals
• Chapters that make theatre history interesting and relevant
New to This Edition

There are many new features in the fourth edition, including new photographs,
new and revised spotlights, and enhanced material:
Part 1: Theatre Literacy

Chapters 1 and 2 contain updated coverage about the art of theatre and its place
in the modern world. Included is an expanded section on the difference between
art and entertainment, updated information about the funding of theatre versus
funding of film and television, more about the media moguls that control our
screen entertainments and expanded coverage on copyrights. Chapter 3 has been
extensively updated with more information about the diverse forms of theatre and
how the theatre gives a voice to everyone, not just privileged groups. Chapter 4
has expanded information about how to find and attend the theatre, new informa-
tion on curtain speeches, and expanded coverage of censorship.

Part 2: The Arts within the Art
All of the chapters in this section have new photos and examples to help stu-
dents understand the many arts and techniques involved in producing a play.
Chapter 6 has new information about the writer’s life and expanded coverage of
PREFACE | xv
the art and craft of writing a play and structuring a story. Chapters 7, 8, and 9
have been updated with the latest examples and information about acting,
directing, and design; Chapter 10 has new information on the need for soli-
tude in order to be creative and how multitasking interferes with creativity. This
section of the book now contains the revised musical theatre chapter, which
includes a new spotlight on women and the American musical.
Part 3: A Concise History

This section of the book has been revised to be more concise. Changes include
new photos, updated timelines, and new spotlights, including one on Nell
Gwyn. In addition we look at how theatre might fare in the digital age.
Teaching and Learning Resources

Cengage Learning’s MindTap for The Art of Theatre brings course concepts to
life with interactive learning, study, and exam preparation tools that support
the printed textbook. Student comprehension is enhanced with the integrated
eBook and interactive learning tools, including learning objectives, activities,
quizzes, and videos.
The Instructor Companion Website is an all-in-one resource for class
preparation, presentation, and testing for instructors. It is accessible by logging
on to login.cengage.com with your faculty account. You will find an Instructor’s
Resource Manual, Cognero® test bank files, and PowerPoint® presentations spe-
cifically designed to accompany this edition.
The Instructor’s Resource Manual provides you with assistance in teaching
with the book, including sample syllabi, suggested assignments, chapter out-
lines, activities, and more.
Cengage Learning Testing Powered by Cognero® is a flexible online system
that allows you to import, edit, and manipulate content from the text’s test bank
and deliver tests from your LMS, your classroom, or wherever you may be, with
no special installation required.
PowerPoint® Lecture Tools are ready-to-use outlines of each chapter. They
are easily customizable to your lectures.
Acknowledgments
A very special thank you goes to Mike Earl for his help with the chapters on
design, and to Sean Warren Stone for his help with the chapter on musical
theatre. We also send our gratitude to other colleagues who gave us valuable
assistance, including the University of Wyoming’s Oliver Walter, Tom Buchanan,
Jack Chapman, Don Turner, Ron Steger, Adam Mendelson, and Ohio Universi-
ty’s Charles Smith. Special thanks to Dr. James Livingston, Linda deVries, Peter
Grego, Shozo Sato, and our amazing students, past and present, at the University
of Illinois, Colorado State, University of Colorado, University of Nevada Las Vegas,
University of California Los Angeles, University of Wyoming, and Ohio University.
Thanks also to the many reviewers of this book, including, for the fourth edition:
Robert Alford, Louisiana State University in Shreveport; Karina Balfour, West
Chester University of Pennsylvania; Wendy Coleman, Alabama State University;
xvi | PREFACE
John Countryman, Berry College; Raquel Davis, Boise State University; Rachel
Dickson, University of Houston–Downtown; Gail Medford, Bowie State University;
Iva Kristi Papailler, Georgia College & State University; Sally Robertson, Georgia
Perimeter College–Clarkston; Judith Ryerson, University of Nevada, Las Vegas;
and Stephen Thomas, Tarrant County College–Northeast.
We also want to thank all those reviewers who worked on earlier editions
with us, including: Christopher R. Boltz, Fresno City College; Mary Guzzy, Corning
Community College; Nadine Charlsen, Kean University; William Godsey, Calhoun
Community College; and Joe Jacoby, North Idaho College. For the second edi-
tion: John Bagby, State University of New York College at Oneonta; Paula Barrett,
Gannon University; Robbin Black, Utah State University; Ro Willenbrink Blair,
Edinboro University of Pennsylvania; Christopher Boltz, Fresno City College; John
R. Burgess, University of Tennessee at Chattanooga; Suzanne Chambliss, Louisiana
State University; Donald Correll, Lower Columbia College; Florence Dyer, Lambuth
University; Oliver Gerland, University of Colorado; Rebecca Gorman, Metropolitan
State College of Denver; Cleo House, The Pennsylvania State University; Dennis
Maher, The University of Texas Arlington; Leslie Martin, California State University
Fresno; Elena Martinez Vidal, Midlands Technical College; Jason Pasqua, Laramie
County Community College; Tony Penna, Clemson University; Sheilah Philip, Johnson
County Community College; Pam Reid, Copiah Lincoln Community College; Rick
Rose, Piedmont College; Korey Rothman, University of Maryland; William G. Wallace,
Hamlin University; Darby Winterhalter Lofstrand, Northern Arizona University; and
Rhea Wynn, Alabama Christian Academy. We also want to thank reviewers of the
first edition, whose influence can still be seen on these pages: Stacy Alley, Arkansas
State University; Blair Anderson, Wayne State University; Robin Armstrong, Collin
County Community College; Dennis Beck, Bradley University; Robert H. Bradley,
Southwestern Missouri State University; B. J. Bray, University of Arkansas Little Rock;
Mark Buckholz, New Mexico State University Carlsbad; Lon Bumgarner, University
of North Carolina Charlotte; Carol Burbank, University of Maryland; Katherine Burke,
Purdue University; Gregory J. Carlisle, Morehead State University; Dorothy Chansky,
College of William and Mary; Leigh Clemons, Louisiana State University Baton
Rouge; Patricia S. Cohill, Burlington County College; Anita DuPratt, California State
University Bakersfield; Thomas H. Empey, Casper College; Jeff Entwistle, University
of Wisconsin Green Bay; Rebecca Fishel Bright, Southern Illinois University; Anne
Fliotsos, Purdue University; Christine Frezza, Southern Utah State University; Keith
Hale, State University of New York Albany; Ann Haugo, Illinois State University;
Charles Hayes, Radford University; Robert A. Hetherington, University of Memphis;
Allison Hetzel, University of Louisiana Lafayette; Helen M. Housley, University of
Mary Washington; Jackson Kesler, Western Kentucky University; Yuko Kurahashi,
Kent State University; Howard Lang Reynolds, Marshall University; Don LaPlant,
California State University Bakersfield; Jeanne Leep, Edgewood College; Nina LeNoir,
Minnesota State University Mankato; Sherry McFadden, Indiana State University;
Ray Miller, Appalachian State University; Joel Murray, University of Texas El Paso;
Kevin Alexander Patrick, Columbus State University; Paula Pierson, San Diego
State University; Ellis Pryce Jones, University of Nevada Las Vegas; David Z. Saltz,
University of Georgia; Kindra Steenerson, University of North Carolina Wilmington;
Jennifer Stiles, Boston College; Shannon Sumpter, University of Nevada Las Vegas;
Stephen Taft, University of Northern Iowa; Vanita Vactor, Clemson University;
Thomas Woldt, Simpson College; Boyd H. Wolz, University of Louisiana Monroe;
and Samuel J. Zachary, Northern Kentucky University.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
W ILLIAM M ISSOURI D OWNS is a playwright and director. His plays

have been produced by The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, The Orlando
Shakespeare Theatre, The InterAct Theatre in Philadelphia, The San Diego Rep,
The Berkeley Repertory Theatre, the Salt Lake City Acting Company, the Actors
Theatre of Charlotte, the International Theatre Festival in Israel, the Stadt The-
ater Walfischgasse in Austria, the Jewish Theatre of Toronto, The Bloomington
Playwright’s Project, the Detroit Rep, the New York City Fringe Festival, the
Durban Performing Arts Center in South Africa, and 150 theatres worldwide. He
has won numerous playwriting awards including two rolling premieres from the
National New Play Network (Women Playing Hamlet & The Exit Interview), and
twice been a finalist at the Eugene O’Neill ((Mad Gravity & How to Steal a Picasso).
Samuel French, Playscripts, Next Stage Press, and Heuer have published his
plays. In addition, he has authored several articles and three other books, including
Screenplay: Writing the Picture and Naked Playwriting, both published by
Silman/James. In Hollywood he was a staff writer on the NBC sitcom My Two
Dads (which starred Paul Reiser). He also wrote episodes of Amen (Sherman
Helmsley), Fresh Prince of Bel Air (Will Smith), and sold/optioned screenplays to
Imagine Pictures and Filmways. He was trained in directing under the Oscar
Nominated Polish Director Jerzy Antczak and has directed over 40 college and
professional productions. Bill holds an MFA in acting from the University of Illinois,
an MFA in screenwriting from UCLA; Lanford Wilson and Milan Stitt at the Circle
Rep in New York City trained him in playwriting.
L OU A NNE W RIGHT is an actor, dialect coach, professor, and writer;

she holds an MFA in Voice, Speech, and Dialects from the National Theatre Con-
servatory and is a certified Fitzmaurice Voicework teacher. Lou Anne has served
as voice/ dialect coach for such companies as the Colorado Shakespeare Festival
and the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. Film roles include Judy Shepard
in HBO’s The Laramie Project and Nell in Hearsay. As a playwright, she authored
the play Kabuki Medea, which won the Bay Area Critics Award for Best Produc-
tion in San Francisco. It was also produced at the Kennedy Center. She is the
coauthor of the book Playwriting: From Formula to Form, and her screenwriting
credits include the film adaptation of Eudora Welty’s The Hitch Hikers, which
featured Patty Duke and Richard Hatch (for which she was nominated for the
Directors Guild of America’s Lillian Gish Award). Lou Anne teaches acting,
voice, speech, and dialects at the University of Wyoming, where she has won
several teaching awards.
E RIK R AMSEY is an Associate Professor of Playwriting in the MFA Playwrit-

ing Program at Ohio University. His plays have been developed at various the-
aters including Cleveland Public Theatre, American Stage, Victory Gardens, and
Pittsburgh Irish and Classical Theatre, and been published by Samuel French
xviii | ABOUT THE AUTHORS
and Dramatic Publishing. As a new play dramaturg, he has worked in diverse

settings from Steppenwolf Theater to WordBridge Lab. Over the past decade he
has been a guest artist and taught playwriting, new play development, and nar-
rative theory in a variety of national and international venues, including the
St. Petersburg Academy of Dramatic Arts “New American Plays” Conference and
Lubimovka Playwrights Laboratory at Teatr.doc in Moscow. Erik’s newest play, a
two-hander for actresses in their 40s, explores the intersection of rodeo clowning
and time-travel.

1
The theatre often expresses
points of view not easily
found in mainstream movies Chapter
and television. Plays will
typically explore themes
THEA RE, ART,

THEAT TT, AND
and issues that film and
T.V. gloss over or ignore
such as religion, sexuality
and politics. Pictured here
are some of the cast of the
mega hit musical The Book
ENTERTAINMEN
T
TAINMEN T
of Mormon at the Eugene
O’Neill Theatre in New York.
Sara Krulwich/The New York Times/Redux
Outline
Art, or Not Art, That Is the Question
The Qualities of Art O n a recent January morning in Washington, D.C., at the
L’Enfant Plaza Metro Station, a street musician began to play
beside a trash can. A thousand commuters rushed by over the next
Human Expression
Subject and Medium hour. Many failed to hear the recital—barely six people stopped
Response to listen, and only one person realized that the musician was no
Perception of Order ordinary violinist, but the internationally acclaimed virtuoso and
The Politics of Art heartthrob Joshua Bell. The violin he played was a one-of-a-kind
Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d Art versus Entertainment

What Is Theatre? What Is Drama?
Stradivarius made in 1713, worth over $3.5 million. Only three
days before, Mr. Bell had played to a standing-room-only crowd
at Boston’s Symphony Hall. Cheap tickets for that performance
The Common Categories of Theatre cost $100, meaning Bell’s concert raked in approximately $1,000
Curtain Call per minute. But three days later, in the cold D.C. Metro station,
2 | PART I THEATRE LITERACY
Mr. Bell’s open violin case pocketed $32.17 in donations. It would have been $12.17,
except that the one person who did recognize him tossed in a twenty.
Start with a quick warm-up Two hundred years ago, a performance by a great artist like Joshua Bell
activity and review the chapter’s would have been, for the majority of us, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Today,
learning objectives.
if you want to hear Joshua Bell you can download his music to your smartphone.
Two hundred years ago, if you wanted to see the great painting Mona Lisa, you
would have had to travel hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles. Today, in sec-
onds you can make the Mona Lisa the screen saver you never look at.
If you wanted to attend a play 200 years ago, it meant making detailed plans,
buying tickets, waiting weeks, and dressing up. Today you can push a button
and see great actors in an instant on your tablet without having to get out of bed.
Technology makes enjoying art an almost effortless activity, but has that same
technology also devalued the arts? Have we cheapened the Mona Lisa, made
dramatic performances commonplace, and made Joshua Bell playing his Stradi-
varius on the street little better than an annoyance on our rush to work?
The Washington Post staged Bell’s Metro station violin concert as an experi-
ment to test people’s perceptions and priorities. It led to many questions. Per-
haps the most important question was, “If we do not have a
moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the
world, playing some of the finest music ever written, on one
of the most beautiful and expensive instruments ever made
. . . how many other things are we missing?” The true value
of art is not its price tag, but its ability to make us feel and
think. Because of this, art can be a powerful force within our
lives, but there is one obstacle art cannot overcome: an indi-
vidual’s inability to perceive and enjoy it. Before you read
this first chapter, take a moment to watch Bell’s Metro sta-
tion concert on YouTube. Would you have been one of the
walking masses who never heard him, or one of the rare few
who knew how to appreciate fine art?
The reason most people don’t appreciate the arts is because
art takes time and education. The philosopher, mathematician,
and social critic Bertrand Russell wrote, “When the public can-
not understand a picture or a poem, they conclude that it is a
bad picture or a bad poem. When they cannot understand the
theory of relativity they conclude (rightly) that their education
has been insufficient.” There is no difference between art and
the theory of relativity in that they both take time and education
William Missouri Downs
to fully experience.
In this book, you will learn about one of the most unique
art forms humankind has ever invented, including its history,
techniques, and methods. If you take the time you will
discover an art brimming with creativity, philosophy, emotion,
Art is a puzzle that must be
intellect, and inspiration that will lead to a greater understanding of yourself and the
assembled by the individual. The
fact that millions of people think world around you.
Reserved. MayArt,
not be copied, scanned, or d
that the Mona Lisa is the greatest
painting ever made should not be
or Not Art, That Is the Question
your only justification for calling
it “art.” You must create your own
definition. Think about how often the word art appears in everyday conversation. It is
used in a wide array of contexts but generally conveys three main ideas: art as
“skill,” art as “beauty,” and art as “meaning.” Recently, a sports reporter on
CHAPTER 1 THEATRE, ART, AND ENTERTAINMENT | 3
ESPN described the American Women’s World Cup champions as “artists.” In

this sense, the word art means “skill,” and it is derived from the Latin word
ars, synonymous with the ancient Greek word techne, which means “skill” or Read, highlight, and take notes
“technique.” An artist is a person who has a great deal of skill or talent or online.
whose work shows considerable technical proficiency or creativity. This is why
we have phrases such as “the art of war” or the “mechanical arts.”
We use art in the second sense when we make such comments as “The sunset Art is not supposed to repeat
at the beach was a work of art.” When we use the word art to describe something what you already know. It is
of great beauty, whether it’s a real and magnificent sunset or an exact watercolor supposed to ask questions.
replica of that same sunset, we are talking about aesthetics. Aesthetics is the Kutluğ Ataman,
branch of philosophy that deals with the nature and expression of beauty. Aes- Filmmaker, artist
theticians ask questions such as: Does beauty have objective existence outside
the human experience? What environmental factors or moral judgments affect
our perception of beauty? What purpose does art serve other than to delight the
eye, please the ear, and soothe the senses? The highest level of aesthetic beauty is “Beauty is no quality in things
often called the sublime. This happens when beauty is so intense that it gives us themselves: It exists merely in
the sense of awe and grandeur, as if we are in the presence of the divine. the mind which contemplates
In the third sense, art can be defined as conveying “meaning.” Artists com- them; and each mind perceives
monly view their art as their own interpretation or judgment of existence, rather
a different beauty.”
than simply as an act of skill or a work of beauty. When the word art is used
David Hume,
in this way, the implicit meaning is “this is life as I, the artist, see it. This is my
Philosopher
personal take on things.” Certainly, when artists set out to create meanings, they
may choose to do so in a socially acceptable manner. They may even choose to
support their meanings with great skill and beauty. However, an artist may also
choose to ignore, challenge, or utterly defy traditional social values and disre-
gard common standards of technique and beauty. The idea that art can reflect no
skill, contain little beauty, and be unpleasant is hard for some to comprehend.
Theatre, or any kind of art that confronts or violates the popular under-
standing of skill, aesthetics, and meaning, can be dangerous to create. What if
Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d According to most dictionary

definitions, only humans can

make art. This untitled painting
was created by “Add,” a nine-year-
old elephant in Thailand. Would
you call it art?
SPOTLIGHT ON Plato, Aristotle, and the Theatre Arts
T
he debate over the purpose of theatre has been Socrates (ca. 469–399 BCE) that playwriting was
going on for centuries. Over two thousand years a waste of time, so he burned all of his plays. Later
ago great philosophers like Plato and Aristotle he wrote a series of dialogues between Socrates
pondered the subject—their arguments sound and others. These dialogues, conversation-like plays
a lot like those we hear today in the modern media. meant to be read rather than performed, deal with
Plato (427–347 BCE) was a teacher, a philoso- art, metaphysics, immortality, religion, morals, and
pher, and an amateur playwright. However, early drama. Plato also founded “The Academy,” which is
in his career he was persuaded by the philosopher often called the first university. His most famous stu-
dent was Aristotle.
The philosopher Aristotle (384–
322 BCE) wrote on such diverse topics
as logic, natural philosophy (what we
would call physics today), astronomy,
zoology, geography, chemistr y,
politics, history, psychology, and
playwriting. His treatise Poetics is
the first known text on how to write
a play. Aristotle founded a rival
school to Plato’s Academy called the
“Lyceum.” His most famous student
was Alexander the Great (356–323
Ted Spiegel/Fine Art Premium/Corbis
BCE).
Plato accused those involved
with the theatre of promoting
“vice and wickedness.” In his book
The Republic he says that people
forget themselves and are highly
manipulated—even irrational—
Plato and Aristotle (l to r), detail from Raphael’s The School of Athens (1510–1511) when under the influence of the arts.
the audience disagrees with the artist’s interpretation, finds it offensive, or sim-
When people are confronted ply refuses to pay attention? For example, when playwright and filmmaker Neil
with a real work of art, they LaBute was a student at Brigham Young University, he directed David Mamet’s
discover that they don’t controversial play Sexual Perversity in Chicago. The strong reaction made him
believe what they thought they think that the purpose of drama is to confront the audience. He now often writes
believed all along. In a way, the plays and movies about homophobes and misogynists. His play Filthy Talk for
great art, the great subversive
Troubled Times was so controversial that some audience members shouted,
“Kill the playwright!” Later LaBute said that performance was one of the best
art, is art that makes you real-
theatre experiences he has ever had. Many audience members disagreed.
ize that you don’t think what
This is nothing new. For millennia people have been debating whether art
you thought you did.
David Hare,
is simply a means to create objects of beauty, a tool to educate, or designed to
incite. Two thousand and four hundred years ago the Greek playwright Aris-
Playwright tophanes (ca. 450–ca. 388 BCE) argued that, “The dramatist should not only
offer pleasure but should also be a teacher of morality and a political adviser.”
Yet his near contemporary, Greek astronomer and mathematician Eratosthenes
He felt that the danger of the theatre is its power Over the centuries, other philosophers have
to instill values hostile to the community, so occasionally agreed with Plato. Blaise Pascal (1623–
he banished the poets (by which he meant 1662) disliked the theatre because he felt that the
“playwrights,” but the word did not yet exist) consciences of audience members stop functioning
from the ideal state in order to protect citizens during performances. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–
from being mindlessly spellbound. He worried 1778) said that the arts “spread flowers over the
that when people join together in an audience, chains that bind people, smothering their desire for
particularly young people, their thoughts can liberty.”
be swept away by the power of the crowd and Aristotle disagreed with his mentor, Plato. He
as a result they lose the ability to reason for felt that art and theatre do not stir undesirable pas-
themselves. He said, “The poet is a sophist, a maker sions, but rather they awaken the soul. He argued
of counterfeits that look like the truth.” that seeing a play in which a son marries his mother,
If there had to be theatre, Plato felt that it must be as in the ancient Greek tragedy Oedipus RexRex, doesn’t
subservient to the state and to society: playwrights cause the young men in the audience to run out
should be of high moral character, appointed by and propose marriage to their mothers. (As mod-
official decree, and their writing should be closely ern independent film director John Waters once
supervised and their plays checked by a govern- said, “No story is that good.”) Instead, he believed
ment-appointed panel of judges. He said, “The poet that good theatre fortifies us because it allows us to
shall compose nothing contrary to the ideas of the release repressed emotions in a controlled, thera-
lawful, or just, or beautiful, or good . . . nor shall he peutic way.
be permitted to show his composition to any pri- Nature, according to Aristotle, tends toward per-
vate individual, until he shall have shown them to fection but doesn’t always attain it. We tend to be
the appointed censors and the guardians of the law, healthy but we become sick. We tend to be nonvio-
and they are satisfied with them.” Plato justified this lent but there is war. We tend toward love but there
call for censorship by asserting that man is an imita- is hate. Therefore, we need art and theatre to correct
tive animal and tends to become what he imitates. the deficiencies of nature by clarifying, interpreting,
He cautioned, therefore, that if we allow theatre we and idealizing life.
should ensure that it only contains characters that
are suitable as role models.
(276–194 BCE), said the function of the theatre arts was to “charm the spirits
of the listeners, but never to instruct them.” Similarly, Greek philosophers Plato
(427–347 BCE) and his student Aristotle (384–322 BCE) disagreed about the
nature of theatre. Aristotle believed theatre is a creation meant to interpret the
world and awake the soul, but Plato maintained that art should be a tool of
the state and promote the well-being of the body politic. The debate over what
art is has been going on for centuries and will continue for centuries to come.
(See Spotlight, “Plato, Aristotle, and the Theatre Arts.”)
The Qualities
Reserved. May ofnot
Art be copied, scanned, or d
A few years ago, a janitor in a modern art gallery accidentally left his grimy
mop and bucket on the gallery floor overnight. The next morning the gallery
manager was shocked to find patrons gathered around the mess, admiring it as
a work of art. This story illustrates how difficult it is to provide an exact defini-
Art was basically functional tion of a word like art. In fact, defining any abstract word can be a challenge,
in far earlier times, a tool by as you’ve probably noticed when you’ve looked up certain words in the dictio-
which people could express nary and found that they mean a number of different things. In his book Phil-
their inner feelings. Just as osophical Investigations, British philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889–1951)
they might demonstrate certain points out that trying to find all-encompassing definitions is not only difficult
desires through dance, or voice
but also introduces boundaries that limit our imagination. Instead, he suggests
we define words by pointing out their “family resemblances,” or the ways in
joy or sorrow though song, so
which the many different meanings of a word resemble one another. So rather
the mystical, unknown world
than nailing down the exact definition of the word art, let’s list the five basic
of these early artists came alive
qualities that all works of art share to a certain extent: human creation, subject
in their drawing and paintings. and medium, structure, and reaction.
This search into the visible and
unknown worlds was mirrored Human Expression
in their artist creations; not art
Human beings and only human beings can make art. The American Heritage
for art’s sake, perhaps, but a
Dictionary says art is “a human effort to imitate, supplement, alter, or coun-
tool to find a way, a connec-
teract the work of nature.” Webster’s Deluxe Unabridged Dictionary says that
tion, to the unknown.
art is “the disposition or modification of things by human skill . . .” (emphasis
Rabbi Moshe added). From these definitions it is easy to see how the word art springs from
Carmilly-Weinberger the same root as the word artificial. It is not the real thing but rather a human
creative endeavor that involves the perceptions and imagination of an artist
who is trying to say something in his or her own particular way. And so every
work of art has an individual style that reflects a person’s talent, technique,
historical period, and unique way of looking at the world. Therefore, the snow-
capped Rocky Mountains, no matter how beautiful, meaningful, or inspiring,
are not art because humans did not create them, and those same mountains
cannot become art until a person interprets them through a medium such as oil
paint on canvas.
Subject and Medium

Every work of art has a subject and a medium. The subject of the work is what
that work is about, what it reflects or attempts to comprehend. The medium is
the method, substance, style, and technique used to create the work. In other
words, the medium is the vehicle for communication. For example, the subject
of a painting may be a flower, but the medium is paint on canvas. The subject
of a dance might be the beginning of spring, and its medium is choreographed
physical movement. The subject of a song might be an “Achy Breaky Heart,” but
the medium is a combination of words, tone, pitch, and volume. Every genre of
art has a different medium that defines it and makes it unique. The spatial
arts, such as sculpture and architecture, are created by manipulating material in
space. The pictorial arts, such as drawing and painting, are created by applying
line and color to two-dimensional surfaces. The literary arts are created with
written language. Theatre is classified as a performing art, as are music, opera,
and dance. The medium of the performing arts is an act performed by a per-

son. In this way the performing arts are unique because they exist only in the
time it takes an actor, singer, musician, or dancer to complete a performance.
Therefore they also have a beginning, middle, and end. Once a performance
ends, the work of art no longer exists, leaving behind no tangible object such as
a painting or a statue.
Theatre is unique because it is the only art for which the medium and sub-
ject are exactly the same: the subjects of a play are human beings and human In one sense the aim of the sci-
acts, and the mediums of a play are also human beings and human acts. The entist and the aim of the artist
actors’ bodies are like canvas and paint to the painter—they are the mediums are the same since both are in
of the art. But you might ask yourself: what about the musical Cats? That’s not pursuit of what they call truth;
about humans and human acts; it’s about felines, right? Actually, the emotions, but the difference between
thoughts, and actions staged for the musical are purely human—invented by them may be said to consist
humans to represent an idea of what cats might think and feel. Ultimately, peo-
in this, that while for science
ple can only experience the world through their own senses and thoughts, and
there is only one truth, for the
therefore any “animal,” “monster,” or even a child dressed up like a “tornado”
artist there are many.
in a school play is really a human idea of how an animal, monster, or tornado
might think, feel, and behave. Joseph Wood Krutch,
Author and philosopher
Response
The power of art comes from its capacity to evoke a response. Art does not
come to life until a spectator, a listener, or an audience breathes life into it by
experiencing it. Art provokes in us a reaction that causes us to consider, judge,
emote, or perceive meaning in some way. This reaction may be spiritual, emo-
tional, intellectual, rational, or irrational. And that reaction, whatever it may be,
often lingers long after the initial encounter. Yet each person views a work of
art through the lenses of his or her own experiences, education, preconceptions,
assumptions, and interests. And because each of us is unique, what constitutes
art for one person may not be art for another. This is at the root of the difficulty
in finding a definition of art on which most can agree. But it also means that
arts education is critical. According to the educator and art philosopher Harold
Taylor (1914–1993), the spectator must know how to “respond to other people
Like many artists, playwright

and Nobel Prize winner Wole
AP Images/Keystone/Georgios Kefalas
Soyinka has played an active role

in politics. His efforts to broker a
peace agreement during the 1967
Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d Nigerian Civil War resulted in his
arrest and 22 months in solitary
confinement. Today, Soyinka
continues to be an outspoken
critic of political tyranny.
and other ideas, different from his own,” rather than react against them. Specta-
Life is very nice, but it lacks tors must “learn to accept difference as natural rather than as a threat to their
form. It’s the aim of art to give whole style of life.” In essence, Taylor is saying that art depends on the open
it some. minds of those who experience it. We need not approve of any given piece of
Jean Anouilh,
art, yet we must attempt to understand the perspective of the artist who created
Playwright it before we can dismiss it or judge it.
Perception of Order
The world of the theatre is
It is often said that artists “select and arrange” their perceptions of the world
a world of sharper, clearer,
and in doing so find or create a structure—a meaningful order or form. “It is the
swifter impressions than the function of all art to give us some perception of an order in life, by imposing
world we live in. order upon it,” said poet T. S. Eliot.
Robert Edmond Jones, American philosopher and novelist Ayn Rand (1905–1982) interpreted the
Set designer notion of structure in art quite elegantly with the following example. Imagine
that a beautiful woman in a lovely evening gown enters a ballroom. She is per-
fect in every way except for the fact that she has a rather large, ugly cold sore on
her lip. What do we make of it? What does it mean? Not much—many people
are afflicted with cold sores, and they are perhaps unfortunate but have little
meaning. However, if a painter paints a picture of a beautiful woman in a lovely
evening gown and portrays her with the same ugly cold sore, the blemish sud-
denly takes on great importance.
This minor imperfection, says Rand, “acquires a monstrous significance by
virtue of being included in the painting. It declares that a woman’s beauty and
her efforts to achieve glamour are futile and that all our values and efforts are
impotent against the power, not even of some great cataclysm, but of a miser-
able little physical infection.”
By including the cold sore—by emphasizing certain parts of life and
de-emphasizing others—the artist finds order and imposes meaning.
This editorial process troubles some who believe the artist’s duty is, as
Shakespeare’s Hamlet says, to hold a “mirror up to nature.” Some people
believe art should merely imitate life, nothing more. Yet, if art simply imitates,
then it would serve only to reflect what we already see and experience, not
help us understand it. Additionally, the process of “holding up a mirror” is
inherently editorial anyway—even if one does set out to simply hold up a
mirror to nature, what one chooses to reflect in the mirror is, in itself, an
editorial process or value judgment that focuses our eyes on one particular
setting or idea instead of another.
Art is never a slavish copy. It always is a selective re-creation that is given
form by the artist’s individual view of existence. Perhaps the Polish sociologist
Zygmunt Bauman said it best: “To be an artist means to give form and shape
to what otherwise would be shapeless and formless. To manipulate probabili-
ties. To impose an ‘order’ on what otherwise would be ‘chaos’; to ‘organize’
an otherwise chaotic—random, haphazard and so unpredictable—collection
of things and events by making certain events more likely to happen than all

others.” When artists find order they also cultivate insight and understanding
about our world and ourselves. (See Spotlight, “To Be an Artist Means Finding
Form and Structure.”) This means that inherent in any work of art are the art-
ist’s opinions, interpretations, philosophy, and beliefs. In short, art is inherently
political and often has political consequences.
SPOTLIGHT ON To Be an Artist Means Finding Form and Structure
F
rench novelist Gustave Flaubert said that emotions have no meaning. But as you walk to work the next
are important in art, but that feelings are not everyday and the next, the walk develops a structure. The
thing: “Art is nothing without form.” Our need for red door means you are at the beginning of your walk;
form and structure is really the need to simplify. At the tree denotes the midway point, while the bench
nearly fifteen hundred pages, War and Peace is a con- signifies the end. If you begin to dislike your employ-
densed version of the French invasion of Russia, the ment, the door, tree, and bench can take on new sig-
play Long Day’s Journey into Night is an edited version nificance. The red door symbolizes how you hate to
of Eugene O’Neill’s family traumas, and E = mc2 is an leave your house, the tree the missed opportunity
abbreviated version of Einstein’s insights. Why do we to take the “Y” in the road, and the park bench your
need a simplified structure? The great Russian writer desire to retire. Your walk now has structure, and, as a
Dostoyevsky said humans “crave miracles, mystery, and result, theme and meaning. Years later, long after you
authority.” In other words, we crave a well-structured have left the job, when you see a similar door, tree, or
map through the confounding experiences of life. bench you will read meaning into it even though no
Our need for structure shows itself in common inherent meaning, theme, or structure exists.
phrases like “Everything happens for a reason,” “What Humans need structure and theme because the
goes around comes around,” or “God helps those world in which we find ourselves appears to be dis-
who help themselves.” Each statement takes the raw organized or at least lacking in purposeful design.
data of nature, edits it, and adds structure. The result Nature, says Adam Phillips in his book Darwin’s
is theme. Theme comes when one begins to see pat- Worms, does not “have what we could call a mind of
terns in nature and life—whether those patterns are its own, something akin to human intelligence. Nor
imagined or real. Anthropologist Pascal Boyer called does nature have a project for us; it cannot tell us
this the “hypertrophy of social cognition,” which is what to do; only we can. It doesn’t bear us in mind
our tendency to see purpose, intention, and design because it doesn’t have a mind. . . .” Some argue that
where only randomness exists. there is a chaos to nature, others that nature has too
For example, the first day you walk to your new much structure. Either way, we must simplify in order
job, it is novel. Perhaps you pass a house with a red to find meaning or to create it.
door, a tree shaped like a Y, and a park bench near Art, along with science and religion, helps us find
a bus stop. At first the door, the tree, and the bench structure; with structure comes meaning.

Shozo Sato
On the right is a photo of Sawtooth Mountain in Colorado, on the left Sumi-E artist Shozo Sato’s painting of the same
mountain. An artist takes the raw data of life and edits it into order to find or impose order and meaning.
The Politics of Art

Every time artists make a choice about what aspect of existence to select and
arrange, they express a value judgment and reveal their beliefs. In this way art
is like politics in the broad sense: it reflects people’s conflicting ideas about how
we should live, how society should be organized, and how the world is. Artists
select those aspects of existence they believe are significant, isolate them, and
stress them to create meaning. The result is that artists’ fundamental views of
life are embodied within their art. Therefore, at the core of every artist is a polit-
ical individual who states an opinion that may challenge an audience’s values
and shatter their preconceptions.
This is probably why many artists eventually become political leaders, join
political causes, or simply stand up and publicly state their opinions. In the
United States, most artists have particular political causes that they support—
we see them standing on the platforms during national political conventions,
testifying before Senate committees, doing public service announcements, and
lending their names to political causes, organizations, and campaigns. Bands
from Rage Against the Machine to the Dixie Chicks are well known for their
political opinions. South African playwright Athol Fugard has spent his life writ-
ing plays that attack apartheid, or state-sponsored racial segregation.
Taking the connection a step further, Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, director of the
Reykjavík Theatre Company, was elected president of Iceland, and movie stars
N. T. Rama Rao of India and Joseph Estrada of the Philippines both became
successful politicians in their respective countries. Artists turned politicians
represent all political parties. Singer Sonny Bono (Sonny Cher), actor Fred
Sonny and Cher
Grandy (Love Boat), actor Ben Jones (The Dukes of Hazzard), and movie star
Arnold Schwarzenegger (The Terminator) all served in the national and local
The Terminator
governments as Republicans. And, of course, we cannot overlook the former
actor, movie star, and president of the Screen Actors Guild who became presi-
dent of the United States, Ronald Reagan.
Art and politics are often closely

related and it is not uncommon
for actors, directors and writers to
enter politics. In the U.S., actors
such as Ronald Reagan and Arnold
Schwarzenegger have been
Pascal George/Getty Images

elected to office. Pictured here is
activist-playwright Vaclav Havel
who became the first elected
president of post-communist
Czechoslovakia.
SPOTLIGHT ON The Life and Death of Ken Saro-Wiwa
D
uring his lifetime, Nigerian author Ken Saro- movement called the Survival of the Ogoni People
Wiwa (1941–1995) wrote twelve children’s (MOSOP), which called for social and ecological justice
books, eight plays, five novels, two memoirs, for the people of the Niger Delta. When asked why a
and many poems. But it was his outspoken writer of children’s books and comic plays was doing
criticism of the Nigerian government, environmental this he said, “The writer cannot be a mere storyteller;
pollution, and the unfair business practices of Shell he cannot be a mere teacher; he cannot merely X-ray
oil company that got him into trouble. Nigeria is the society’s weaknesses, its ills, its perils. He or she must
sixth-largest producer of crude oil in the world, but be actively involved shaping its present and its future.”
the people of Nigeria have little to show for their In order to silence his voice, the military govern-
country’s wealth. Most people ment of Nigeria arrested
still live in poverty; the infant Saro-Wiwa on trumped-up
mortality rate is one of the murder charges and, despite
highest on the planet; and the international protests, he
average life expectancy is only was executed by hanging
fifty-four years. eight days later along with
Most of Nigeria’s oil rev- eight of his compatriots.
enues lined the pockets of the Saro-Wiwa wrote before his
military regime while Shell Oil execution, “The men who
was allowed to pump crude ordain and supervise this
oil from the Niger Delta with show of shame, this tragic
few, if any, environmental charade, are frightened by
regulations. Saro-Wiwa began the word, the power of ideas,
campaigning to share the the power of the pen; by the
government’s wealth with its demands of social justice
people. He also called for clean and the rights of man. Nor
air, land, and water. Then he do they have a sense of his-
organized peaceful protests, tory. They are so scared of
Reuters/Corbis
wrote pamphlets on minor- the power of the word that

ity and environmental rights, they do not read. And that is
and launched the grassroots, their funeral.”
community-based political Ken Saro-Wiwa (1941–1995)
Yet the road for artists into politics has often been perilous. For example,
before Czechoslovakian playwright Václav Havel (1936–2011) became president
of the new Czech Republic in 1993, he was arrested so often by the former
communist regime that he carried his toothbrush with him—ready to go to jail
at a moment’s notice. Nigerian writer and playwright Wole Soyinka, the first
African writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature (1986), spent two years in
solitary confinement—secretly writing on toilet paper and discarded cigarette
wrappers—after he was arrested for his political views during Nigeria’s civil
war. In 2007, art students at Maharaja Sayajirao University in India were jailed
for making art that “attacked Indian culture.” In 2004, filmmaker Theo van Gogh
was murdered in the streets of Amsterdam for making Submission: Part 1, an
11-minute movie critical of the treatment of women by Islam. And in 1995,

playwright and author Ken Saro-Wiwa was executed for his outspoken views
about the military government of Nigeria and the environmental and economic
practices of the Shell oil company. (See the Spotlight, “The Life and Death of
Ken Saro-Wiwa.”) As Polish actor Zygmunt Hubner, former director of the Pow-
szechny Theatre in Warsaw, said, “Beware of underestimating the theatre! The
theatre is . . . a lens that focuses the rays of many suns. And a lens can start a
fire.” That lens is the artist’s interpretation of how the world is or should be.
Often it is the artists who get burned, but on occasion art can also stoke an
inferno that reduces tyranny to ashes.
Art versus Entertainment

The fundamental difference between art and entertainment is that artists create
The presentation of something primarily to express themselves, making little compromise to appeal to public
besides mere entertainment taste, whereas entertainers create primarily to please an audience. Entertain-
and spectacle is the great func- ment is designed to amuse us and make us feel good about who we believe we
tion of the legitimate theatre of are and the values we hold. Entertainment, according to Dana Gioia, former
the world today. head of the National Endowment for the Arts, “exploits and manipulates who
we are rather than challenging us with a vision of who we might become.”
Lillian Hellman,
Entertainment satisfies a consumer demand by providing commercialized sto-
Playwright
ries that make us forget our troubles for a few popcorned minutes. Entertain-
ment is designed from the beginning to reinforce the consumer’s values and
beliefs.
Art may also confirm our values and beliefs, but artists do not necessar-
ily seek to confirm them. True, artists often desperately want their audience to
understand and appreciate their creation, which is why they may pay attention
to criticism and audience reaction. But artists do not always take an audience’s
opinion into consideration when creating work. They do not compromise to
make their work line up with public taste. Writer Mark Slouka put it best, “Art is
a supremely individual expression. It doesn’t ask permission; it doesn’t take an
exit poll and adjust accordingly . . . Once artists start asking how many “likes”
they’ve garnered, or listening to customer-satisfaction surveys to increase their
sales, they’re no longer making art; they’re moving product.” Entertainers are
always willing to adjust, change or rewrite their product to please the audience.
Many, if not most, major movie and television producers show works in prog-
ress to test with audiences before formally releasing the “product.” These test
audiences, usually recruited from a targeted age or social group, fill out ques-
tionnaires after the showing about what they liked and didn’t like, what they
thought about the story and the characters, after which the producers, writers,
and directors rewrite and edit to make it more audience friendly. In essence, a
test audience is a tool for producers to match the values of the product to the
consumer, thereby making the product more entertaining and marketable.
What are values? Values are the principles, standards, or qualities consid-
ered worthwhile or desirable within a given society. Entertainers want to con-
firm our values because they want to make us feel good about who we are
and what we believe so that we buy their product. Otherwise, we may change
the channel or spend our money on a different movie. When entertainment
fails to reinforce the audience’s values, it is often suppressed. For example, the
A billboard on Times Square

advertises the many musicals
available on Broadway. These
musicals can be both art and
entertainment.
producers of the raucous animated sitcom Family Guy made an episode in which
the mother (Lois Griffin) has an unwanted pregnancy and contemplates abor-
tion. The episode was so full of frank discussions and outrageous comedy that
Fox Network executives felt was a “fragile subject matter at a sensitive time,” so
they pulled it off the air. Other episodes of Family Guy have been rejected even
before they made it into production, including one in which the father (Peter
Griffin) pushes for his son to convert to Judaism so that he would be “smarter.”
At other times Fox has insisted that the writers edit individual jokes, including
one that contained the phrase “World Trade Center.” Fox censored these jokes
and episodes because they consider Family Guy not a work of art, but pure
entertainment, and good entertainment does not make the audience think too
Art is an individual experience. much, nor does it challenge the audience’s values.
It forces us to examine our- In his book Life: The Movie—How Entertainment Conquered Reality, Neal
selves. It broadens perspective. Gabler describes entertainment as a “rearrangement of our problems into shapes
Entertainment masquerading as which tame them, which disperse them to the margins of our attention.” In other
art, by contrast, herds viewers words, entertainment is the art of escape. Stephen Sondheim, one of America’s
and audiences into the collec-
leading writers of musical theatre, tells a story about a man walking out on the
musical West Side Story when it was first produced: “He wanted a musical—
tive. It limits perspective to that
meaning a place to relax before he has to go home and face his terrible dysfunc-
experienced by the masses.
tional family. Instead of which he got a lot of ballet dancers in color-coordinated
Chris Hedges, sneakers snapping their fingers and pretending to be tough. His expectation had
Journalist and author
been defeated.” Entertainment fulfills your expectations, it makes you believe
that change is not needed, that your way of life is justified; it makes you think
that you are thinking. Writer Don Marquis said, “If you make people think they’re
thinking, they’ll love you; but if you really make them think, they’ll hate you.”
Experimental plays test the In short, entertainment fulfills our expectations. Art, on the other hand, makes
bounds of theatre. One of the no compromise for public taste as it inspires us to consider life’s complexities
most famous experimental plays and ambiguities. Art is the opposition testing the strength of societal and cultural
is Paradise Now (1968), which values—values that are thoughtlessly adopted by the mass of individuals living
was staged by The Living Theatre
unexamined lives and all who cannot imagine a different way of seeing life.
during the Vietnam War. This play
All this is not to say there is anything wrong with entertainment—we all
directly confronted the audience
by staging an “aesthetic assault” need and enjoy entertainment. From sitcoms and amusement parks to the Ice
on their culture and values. Capades, entertainment is a wonderful way to relax. It adds to the enjoyment of
life and is often worth the price of admission. To most people,
a life devoid of entertainment seems hardly worth living. Even
in the harshest environments, people long to be entertained.
For example, the USO (United Service Organizations) has been
bringing entertainment to American soldiers on the front lines
for more than 60 years, evidence of entertainment’s ability to
be therapeutic and increase morale.
Never in history have there been so many ways to enter-
tain yourself as there are today, including movies and TV on
demand, social media, video games, YouTube, and innumer-
able websites and other services on the ever-evolving Inter-
net. There are hundreds of thousands of titles that you can
rent or download from Netflix, and YouTube has billions of
video views per day. According to the Bureau of Labor Sta-
tistics, the average American family spends more money on
entertainment than on gasoline, clothing, and household fur-
nishings. In addition, Americans watch billions of hours of
television every year, even though TV is often not viewed on
a television set any more. To get an idea of how much time
that is, let’s compare it to the amount of time it took to cre-
ate the popular web encyclopedia Wikipedia. Clay Shirky, in
his book Cognitive Surplus, estimates that it took about one
hundred million hours for human beings to build Wikipedia
Courtesy, Living Theatre
into what is today—the largest encyclopedia in the world.

That means that if Americans turned off the TV for one year
they would have enough time to create 2,000 Wikipedia-
sized projects.
With a flick of a remote or a mouse, we can usually find a TV program,

movie, or song that makes us feel good about who we are and what we believe.
But what happens when we indulge in a diet dominated by entertainment?
What happens when we watch and listen only to what confirms our values?
We may become apathetic and convinced of our own point of view, but more
importantly, we can become intolerant of new ideas and alternative opinions
of how the world is or should be. Seth MacFarlane, creator of Family Guy, said,
“People in America, they’re getting dumber, they’re getting less and less able to
analyze something and think critically, and pick apart the underlying elements.
And more and more ready to make a snap judgment regarding something at
face value, which is too bad.” This same sentiment was paralleled by the great
philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who said that philosophical illnesses usually
stem from dietary insufficiency. A diet of only one philosophy, religion, or way
of looking at the world leads to philosophical illness and a limited view of the
world. Art and theatre help balance our diet. They challenge us, teach us, and
sometimes even insult us by calling our values into question. In short, here are
the differences between art and entertainment:
Art
• Lets us see another’s point of view
• Is directed toward the individual
• Makes us think
• Demands an intellectual effort to appreciate it
• Requires active viewing
• Requires self-examination
• Has great potential as an agent of social change
• Challenges the audience
• Offers edification, transcendence, and contemplation
• Does not compromise for public taste
Entertainment
• Pulls us into ourselves, reaffirms our point of view
• Targets the largest possible number of people
• May make us think we’re thinking
• Is about sameness
• Makes few intellectual or other demands on the viewer
• Can be done with passive viewing
• May examine life but does not lead to criticism

•
•
Is easily digested
Has little potential as an agent of social change
• Flatters the audience
• Is about gratification, indulgence, and escape
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DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI
Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)
The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.
NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA
I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.
MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]
MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY
With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
“We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
BRAZIER
Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT
SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB
CUTTING THE EDGE

FINISHING THE BOTTOM
LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING
FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE
TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL
NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK
DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG
REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

BEATING THE BARK
WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT
MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN

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PART 2 THE ARTS WITHIN THE ART

12 Theatre Around the World 229

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STAGE VERSUS SCREEN 22

Aesthetic Distance 67 Assessment 76

A CREATIVE LIFE 194

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THE GREEKS TO SPOTLIGHTS

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Part 1: Theatre Literacy

Part 2: The Arts within the Art

Features of This Book

New to This Edition

Part 1: Theatre Literacy

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Part 3: A Concise History

Teaching and Learning Resources

W ILLIAM M ISSOURI D OWNS is a playwright and director. His plays

L OU A NNE W RIGHT is an actor, dialect coach, professor, and writer;

E RIK R AMSEY is an Associate Professor of Playwriting in the MFA Playwrit-

and Dramatic Publishing. As a new play dramaturg, he has worked in diverse

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THEA RE, ART,

Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d Art versus Entertainment

ESPN described the American Women’s World Cup champions as “artists.” In

Reserved. May not be copied, scanned, or d According to most dictionary

definitions, only humans can

SPOTLIGHT ON Plato, Aristotle, and the Theatre Arts

Subject and Medium

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Like many artists, playwright

Soyinka has played an active role

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SPOTLIGHT ON To Be an Artist Means Finding Form and Structure

William Missouri Downs

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The Politics of Art

Art and politics are often closely

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SPOTLIGHT ON The Life and Death of Ken Saro-Wiwa

wrote pamphlets on minor- the power of the word that

11-minute movie critical of the treatment of women by Islam. And in 1995,

Art versus Entertainment

A billboard on Times Square

into what is today—the largest encyclopedia in the world.

With a flick of a remote or a mouse, we can usually find a TV program,

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Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG