Wie se fees is dit nou eintlik?

Dit bring ons dus weer in 'n groot mate terug by die dryfvere vir, en logistiek van, 'n rondreisende teatersisteem - vergelykbaar met, maar tog merkbaar anders as, die teater van die jare 1925 tot 1939.

Interessant soos dit sou wees om dié draai van die kulturele wiel hier na te spoor, wil ek dit vir later laat, of vir ander om verder te voer. (Daar is baie studente wat vandag hul aandag hierop wil vestig - dis immers hul toekomstige brood en botter.) Ek wil eerder so bietjie spekuleer oor die aard van die fees as sosiale fenomeen, en die belangrike en gemeenskaplike "drywers" wat feeste tot stand bring en onderhou. Om dit te doen wil ek begin deur aan te sluit by 'n ietwat speelse resensie oor die KKNK in die South African Theatre Journal (Volume 17, September 2003), waarin ek my eie feesgangerservaring beskryf het. Ek verskaf 'n geredigeerde weergawe van die oorspronklike Engelse artikel.

Deel een (of dan Part one): KKNK 2003
I attended the 2003 Little Karoo National Arts Festival on an impulse, having had absolutely no intention of going this year. It was a whim brought on by an excited last-minute phone call from my friend Jan Vorster, a retired academic with a restless and inquisitive spirit and time on his hands. "Surely one has to go if one had any real interest in culture or the Afrikaans language?" he argued, apparently assuming that I would agree with this. How could I not? "After all, it is April, and Oudtshoorn is the only place to be, right?" Oh, damn! Yes. Right.

So off we went to Oudtshoorn.

Jan had reserved our accommodation, so I booked our theatre tickets before setting off. This is something you have to do, for the good shows are usually sold out months ahead of time. As it was, we missed one or two of the major presentations, and missed Kaktus op die Vlaktes (and some other open-air musical extravaganzas) which all unfortunately fell outside the period of our visit.

Since Jan is a man who clearly understands the basics, we stopped en route to stock up on wine, an essential precaution against such unforeseen eventualities as snake-bite, an overdose of boeremusiek, boredom, bad theatre, late-night anxiety and the outrageous festival prices of basic foodstuffs. We reached Oudtshoorn just in time to get my press kit from the festival office and make it to our two o' clock show.

After the show we headed on to our accommodation on the edge of town, an austere but functional room in a wing of the army infirmary (snugly tucked up alongside a set of the major venues, including the South African Defence Force auditorium and their video-hall, and overlooking the parking area and artery road). Extremely basic, but really affordable and functional, it was conveniently placed and safe. Fortunately festivals are enormously exhausting affairs, so all one did in the room was to hit that bed and sleep. All in all, it was a bargain at the price. Even more so the huge breakfast, taken in the equally sparse Officers Mess, a lovely surprise awaiting us in the morning.

(To put the quality of this place into some kind of perspective, I can report that I have since had another kind of experience in the lovely and very affordable university hostel accommodation provided for the 2004 Volksbladfees in Bloemfontein, where the considerate organisers had deemed it a fine idea to place the all-night beer tent and the thunderous rock bandstand within easy walking distance for everyone - just 50 metres over the road and directly opposite our hostel.)

The provision of accommodation and food are of course two sources of real income and job creation for the inhabitants, and they are not going to let the opportunity slip of fleecing you to the bone - remember this only comes along once a year, and then only for a week. So every hostel, garden cottage, spare room, garage, toolshed, wendy-house and caravan are converted into "charming rooms for rent", with breakfast included (another gamble - this could set you up for the day or barely keep you going for an hour). All are set on making the most of their week of opportunity, and for this you pay prime rates. Furthermore, not only do you pay in Rands, but you are also expected to pay in kind, by sharing your experiences of the festival with your hosts (and any other lodgers who happen to share your lodgings). Remember, they are so busy running the temporary B&B establishment, carrying on with their daily lives and sharing their opinions of you with their neighbours, that they have no time to attend the festival fare themselves. You are their source of culture.

I have made some light fun of it all above, but the fact is there is a serious and effective capitalist substructure in place at the base of the accommodation issue: supply and demand governs all the festival activities (at all festivals), and no-where is it more apparent than in the need to find place for the more than 30 000 people who descend on the town to stay. (The same is true of other towns hosting large festivals, e.g. Grahamstown, Potchefstroom, Kimberley, Bloemfontein and so on). And most people do it well.

Having unpacked, we both collapsed on our narrow iron bedsteads for a brief nap and a serious planning session of our culture and entertainment for the week. We pored over the thick (112 page) programme, claiming to offer an astounding list of 839 performances, plus 38 art exhibitions, trying to fit in play attendance with meals, exhibits and lounging around at the free open-air productions, pubs, buskers, and the rest while leaving at least some time to drink our wine, socialize, and - if one must - sleep. This is almost the most difficult part of festival-going: the programme. There is just so much of everything! How do you make it all fit? The organisers do their very best to help you, offering you all kinds of schematizations of their material, scheduling plays on the hour as much as possible. Though of course they cannot prevent live shows from running the full length of the hour and sometimes overrunning the hour. Which leads to a lot of late-coming and early departures.

Years ago, when I started going to the Grahamstown Festival, I remember going to up to five or more presentations a day, getting to bed at past midnight. I could do this for a week at a stretch. And here we were surrounded by people still doing that apparently. People for whom this is their once-a-year cultural high. You recognize them immediately, sitting on the edges of their seats at shows, a programme clutched in the hand, their watches frequently consulted, sprinting to the door as the lights go down, heading for the next performance, then standing there already planning their next show and their route there. There is a slightly manic light in their eyes as they scuttle down the road.

This hysteria is a rather prominent feature of festivals (along with an apparent belief that you disturb no-one if you come in late, talk and loudly eat chips, send SMS messages, read your programme, and so on during the show), which has been exacerbated (as far as the "formal" and frequent theatre-goer is concerned) in the past few years by TV culture and the frightening informality and audience response tolerated by the non-mainstream theatre practice that developed in the old apartheid "townships" and rural areas. In fact: we have some way to go before the conflicting demands of a participatory African oral culture, the TV generation and the reactionary formal theatre practice (i.e. sit, shut-up, remain seated till the end of the play), as inherited from the imported and dominating colonial culture, will blend into something approximating a general South African theatre-going etiquette. For the moment, it is all pretty much up to circumstances, and the source of much rancour and confusion. (Witness the 2002 debates surrounding the audiences and their responses to Breyten Breytenbach's Die Toneelstuk.) And key to it must be the very premise that the contemporary South African festivals are based on: art for the people. In other words, they are for everybody - whatever their age, sex, race, language, value systems, religion, sexual orientation, social and educational status, theatrical and cultural traditions, and so on. The nature, demands and impact of the festival audience - their status as client and role-player- is clearly one of the key areas to be looked at in any proper study of the festival phenomenon.

Rested, Jan and I hit the streets of Oudtshoorn again.

We found the streets of the large Karoo town ringing with competing music and laughter, and every public space awash with stalls, advertisements, watering holes, eating places and the like (none more so than those run by the many official sponsors, juggling for advertising space, pressing free samples and competition forms on you, dragging you into their tents to view their goods, and so on!). The whole town, blanketed by a cloud of wood smoke, smelled tantalizingly of braaivleis. Following the crowd we found and grabbed a seat with a view at an open-air beer garden on the strategic corner of Baron van Reede and Voortrekker Streets. It was a people-watchers heaven, opposite three of the main venues of the festival, from which we could behold the festival unfold. People and cars milled about us, while posters, caravans, tents and stalls seemed crammed in everywhere. From the discussions around us we deduced that almost every second house in the town had apparently become a temporary bed-and-breakfast establishment and the town was bursting at its seams. A family at the next table, locals, told us that they came down simply to view the madness. We got a running commentary from them on the impact of these crowds on the town. How prices sky-rocketed (they had prepared themselves by stocking up groceries for example), how parking had disappeared (they now have themselves dropped off by one of Fanie's police colleagues), how crime rose in the town centre and dropped off in the surrounding suburbs, as criminals headed for the prime "business spot", i.e. there where the tourists and festival visitors were. As for the drunk-and-disorderly lot, why drink in a shebeen or at home if there are open pubs on the streets to enjoy? Then the police can take you home. I was a bit sceptical about this latter point, but the very next day I actually saw one such a reluctant and very far gone reveller being encouraged and worked into a police van by his friends and family, under the indulgent eye of the two constables. (What a far cry from the anger and violence accompanying such scenes in the 1970's and 1980's!) It began to dawn on me that festivals might actually affect far more than just the artists, the economy and people's cultural perceptions. This thought was going to grow over the days.

In the course of our sojourn we saw and discussed a number of shows. It was a theatre festival after all, so I had to do some work, and to do it we went to some strange and far-flung venues not necessarily well-equipped for such activities. But what the hell, that is what festival-going is about, not so? Actually it seems not, if you listen to the artists and some of the public. They have been spoilt it would appear, for they want more comfort, more facilities, better sightlines, air-conditioning, and so on. The time of suffering for art is passing, some might argue, and something of the pioneer spirit of the original festival has been lost. Yet there is also a point to some of the complaints. Greed seems to be a factor, organisers trying to put too many productions into the venues, allowing too little getting-in time and providing insufficient and under-trained support staff. A dangerous and debilitating trend.

There were many impressive and thought-provoking plays on offer among the "big" shows (i.e. the serious fare that is supposed to make going to festivals worthwhile), while the fringe and the musical venues offered excellent entertainment, even though many of the shows were clearly stock productions or repeats. I shall not discuss them individually here, but in the end, I felt that - theatrically speaking at least - none of the plays or musical presentations on offer this year had really managed to set the world alight. There were many very competent productions on the programme, much that was fun, but nothing truly exceptional. In fact the festival somehow appeared a rather bland affair, with none of the Sturm und Drang, excitement, public debate and disgust or outrage associated with 2002. The most sheer energy was being expended at the public stages, especially the packed Radio Sonder Grense ("Radio Without Limits") stage in front of the main buildings, and in the ubiquitous pubs and beer-gardens, offering "live-music". But as far as the plays went, it was a tame affair for the most part, at least in my experience of it. This is not necessarily a bad thing of course, for art need not be controversial to be good. And - as I came to realize increasingly as I focused on what was going on about me - a festival is a many-faceted thing, with something for everyone. Each person would have found something at this year's festival, there was enough of everything.

So, what did the 2003 KKNK festival have that really moved me to wonder and engagement? In retrospect I think there are three experiences which might be worth mentioning briefly in this regard, for they offer varied perspectives on the festival phenomenon.

The first is a simple thing, a hedonistic pleasure I allow myself every time I get to Oudtshoorn: a meal at the superb Jemima's restaurant. A remarkable indication of the impact the festival has had on this relatively obscure Karoo town is that tourism has increased so remarkably. For example, the town now boasts, and can actually support, some of the better eateries in the country. Certainly Jemima's must be up there with the very best, with De Fijne Keuken right behind it. There are quite a number more, possibly almost as good, but sadly we just did not have the time (or the money) to try them all, so Jemima's it had to be and so Jan and I went there filled with anticipation of their famous and encompassing smörgasbord. To our dismay the buffet was no more, for it had apparently been discontinued because of the nature of the festival public, who did not know how to eat from a buffet. Now there is a thought, is it not? Like with many other things, such as theatre-going, there is also a right and a wrong way to approach it, a set of conventions, even an etiquette, of buffet-eating. Easy to make fun of this, but it is a reality nevertheless, as our hostess explained. Nothing can waste food like a buffet if not properly utilized, as we learnt. Think about it in festival terms and it brings us back to the consideration of matters such as the impact of the festival, the lovely complexities of festival-going and the nature of the festival-goer.

Another kind of thought-provoking experience was provided by the Die Burger-sponsored debates which have become such an influential and indeed popular feature of the KKNK. This year the series was organised by the philosopher Johan Rossouw and the focus was on us as a nation: where we find ourselves now, who we are, where we are going, and so on. The programme contained a rather disparate mix of issues but the tone was seemingly set for much of the series by the opening session, which had been devoted to the role and definition of the so-called "coloured" community in the new South Africa (a very controversial issue and much written about in the days to follow). It was to become a theme running through much of what was written about the festival. We had tickets for the three that fell on the days we were there.

Which New Economy? offered a fascinating duel between the extremes of emotional and verbal histrionics (radical Stellenbosch economist Sampie Terreblanche in full and glorious flight) and cool-headed, data-based finesse (an unflappable Rudolf Gouws of the Rand Aksepbank deftly parrying and countering each bull-rushing attack). I understood very little, believed each speaker, but by god I was engaged in the debate! This was fun - if only we had more theatre of this calibre!

More relevant here perhaps was a thought-provoking discussion on Die Rondgaande Verhoog: Suid-Afrikaanse Teater na 1994. I think the topic had been misnamed, or the participants (Bert Olivier, Marlene le Roux, and Anthony Wilson) had been wrongly chosen for the topic, for they did not really speak about the topic per se, but rather addressed the question of absences - particularly of the "coloured" community, both as performers and audiences. Their presence at the festival was seen as peripheral, and the speakers argued persuasively that their role as artists needed to be increased and nurtured, so too their role as audiences. This became, as I have said before, an issue for some extensive debate at the festival and thereafter.

In contrast, the last debate was (theoretically) a sound idea, but ultimately it was a little ill-conceived and badly attended. It had three representative high-school leaders talking about the new South Africa. Like so many ideas that are politically and morally correct, it fell down on the realities of public performance. As shown, part of the success of these debates lies precisely in the cut-and-thrust of debate and the (often exceptional) performance abilities of the speakers. It is held in a vast auditorium, its format is theatrical, thus it needs to be dramatic and needs to be projected. Which happened in the first two debates mentioned, but not here.

The final important experience I had derived from the festival came directly from my research and the simple and practical piece of fieldwork I had come to do. I had taken along a video-camera, hoping to film the streets, tents, public events and so on of a representative festival, to use as resource material for teaching a course on festivals. Does wonders for the ego of course, but what it really did for me, was to frame everything, something I had forgotten since my faithful old Pentax camera had finally broken down a few years ago. I was actually looking for things to film, things I could discuss in class. And the camera helped me isolate them, lift them out as particular objects of study. In this way (often with Jan's help, pointing out interesting views, strange street performances, pretty girls, and so on), I was seeing many things I had not seen before - also the less engaging aspects of it all, such as the beggars, the street children, the small, hopeful-but-doomed businesses and stalls where people expose themselves and their creations, hoping for acceptance.

I mucked up the film a bit of course - shot it all in black and white. People tried to cheer me up by saying black and white is so "dramatic", that black and white movies were fashionable, gave you a "documentary feel", and so on. The problem of course is that these are precisely attributes a festival does not have - it is not black and white, nor is it "dramatic" in itself. If it is anything, it is colourful (or not) and endlessly confusing. Particularly in this country, if you think about it.

So we headed for home. On the way we once more wondered at the claim of an astounding 839 performances on offer. Could this be true? It had felt like that of course, though we realized that the actual tally of productions - as opposed to performances - was only 180, though this was still an amazing number and represented a heavy dose of culture in the course of one week. Of course the notion of "performances" was being used rather loosely in this context, referring to everything from formal plays and concerts to street events and busking. And there had been plenty of those - PLUS the numerous peripheral activities which have come to associate themselves with these festivals.

One of the harshest criticisms being thrown at the festival lately (particularly the hard-core high-cultural activists) has been that it is NOT a cultural festival but an "Afrikaner bazaar" (see for example Hanlie Stander 2003). A hugely debatable point of course, but at one level - for one week this year - it was abundantly clear that Oudtshoorn was almost brazenly and stereotypically declaring itself to be a vast and sprawling fête or bazaar. A place for speakers of Afrikaans to feel at home, to interact, laugh, argue, philosophise, eat, drink, be merry and engage with each other across their variety. This first impression had certainly been substantially confirmed by our experiences during the rest of our stay and to uncritical outsiders that quality is bound to dominate one's impressions. However, at another level we had also discovered that for others the KKNK was obviously seen as a more substantial event, one of cultural significance. This was very clear from the discussions and debates scheduled as part of the festival, in a number of the performance venues, and in the more thoughtful columns of the national newspapers. (Though this coverage is mostly limited to the Afrikaans papers from the Media24 stable - a pity.) Interestingly for me, my voyeuristic touring of the streets revealed - or at least made me sharply aware of - other motives, lying somewhere between the two views outlined above. This is to be seen in the actions and enthusiasm of the everyday citizens of the town, the performers, the sponsors, the stall-keepers and so on. In this vast middle space there lurked a whole range of other, more specific and even mundane, motives, many of them relating simply to the day to day processes of making a living, or even in some cases, mere survival.

The anomaly for me in all of this is that it questions the seeming unity of the festival. While I have previously argued for seeing the festival as a unified entity (Hauptfleisch 2001), even if one simply saw it as an "Afrikaner bazaar", I now think that there is also a sense in which this view may also be false, for the festival is in actual fact not clearly and unambiguously a single entity, but something more complex. There is the conceptual unity of the event as a whole (it takes place in one place, at a specific time, has one programme, and a very general marketing focus on Afrikaans and Afrikaans speakers) but within that frame it is really a poly-system of linked sub-festivals, each with its own aims, objectives, supporters, processes and impact - in other words, an uneasy composite of (potentially) competing activities.

There is, it seems to me, a wonderful project to be undertaken on these issues.

Deel twee: Die parameters van 'n fees
So kom ons gesels om af te sluit baie kortliks oor die "wonderlike projek" hier bo in die vooruitsig gestel, veral met verwysing na die laaste drie paragrawe. Soos gesê en gedemonstreer is enige fees beide eenheid en kompleksiteit, 'n enkel gebeurtenis, maar ook 'n polisisteem van afsonderlike - soms botsende - gebeurtenisse. Die komplekse sosiale, kulturele, politieke en ekonomiese fenomeen wat ons "die fees" noem, het verskeie kragte wat daarop inspeel, en natuurlik sekere oorkoepelende waardes en doelwitte wat dit wil saambind tot 'n groter, geïntegreerde eenheid - en terselfdertyd aan so 'n fees sy unieke karakter verskaf. Die volgende diagram (Figuur 1) probeer die verweefdheid van die subsisteme of die kragte en hulle verband met die geheel voorstel.

Figuur 1: Die parameters van 'n (kuns-/kultuur-) fees

Dis uit die aard van die saak 'n generiese en abstrakte beeld wat in die diagram voorgehou word, een wat die meeste mense selfs sou kon uitbrei. Die diagram dui vir my daarop dat die fees, in al sy kompleksiteit en verskeidenheid, tog 'n eenheid met 'n eie karakter is, en 'n eie visie het van wat dit wil bereik. Dit het vir my in hierdie verband drie besondere kenmerke:

1. Elke fees het ten minste 'n minimum teenwoordigheid van al die bogenoemde kragte, alhoewel hulle nie noodwending in 'n eweredig gebalanseerde verhouding tot mekaar staan nie. Die feit is dat geen fees kan bestaan sonder samewerking (vrywillig of gedwonge) tussen al die bogenoemde faktore nie, en elkeen van die deelnemers het beide regte en pligte vir deelname aan die totale gebeurtenis.

2. Die kragte staan egter ook in 'n besondere verhouding tot mekaar, een waarin sommiges in 'n betrokke fees merkbaar belangriker is as die ander, en dit is juis die spesifieke gewig van individuele kragte en die verhouding tussen die onderskeie deelnemers wat die unieke aard van die individuele fees bepaal. (Of dalk anders om: die spesifieke aard van 'n fees en sy doelwitte bepaal dalk die verhouding en gewig van die besondere deelnemers of kragte wat betrokke is.) Om breedweg te illustreer, kyk nou maar vergelykend na die KKNK, die Volksbladfees en die Afrikaanse Woordfees - elkeen se identiteit as 'n nasionale fees, 'n streeksfees of 'n plaaslike kunstefees (om hulle baie breedweg te tipeer) word bepaal deur 'n kombinasie van die aard van die dorp en gemeenskap, die publiek en die gehore; die doelwitte en eise van die organiseerders, borge en handelaars; en die verwagtinge van die media en kunstenaars. (Die aard van die gehore en die status aan kunstenaars verleen is byvoorbeeld twee sterk onderskeidende faktore hier.)

3. Elke fees het noodwendig, gegee sy struktuur, meervoudige doelwitte en verwagtings - waaronder die plaaslike doelwitte (publisiteit, toerisme, werkskepping, kulturele verryking vir die plaaslike bevolking, en die generering van inkomste) die voorrang geniet. En dit maak dat geen fees 'n spieëlbeeld is van die abstrakte (stedelike) kultuurbedryf nie, maar sterk gewortel is in sy plaaslike identiteit.

Dis natuurlik maklik om te argumenteer dat my voorstelling 'n utopiese beeld van die werklikheid is, een wat deur menslike interaksie en feesbetrokkenheid sterk weerspreek word. Soos alreeds hier geargumenteer, weet ons almal hoe verteenwoordigers van elkeen van hierdie subsisteme telkemaal die fees vir hulself wil opeis en hulself op een of ander manier as die middelpunt van alles (of ten minste as 'n belangrike rolspeler in die middel) wil sien. (Die arrogansie van organiseerders, die eise van borge, die miskenning en klagtes van kunstenaars, die invloed van die media word telkemale genoem.) Hulle sou gewis die hele sisteem anders voorstel en nie soos in die diagram nie, want min mense sien hulself werklik as gelyke genote - en daarin lê natuurlik die groot problem, of stel probleme.

Maar wat onteenseglik waar is, is dat die koms van die feesroete 'n enorme en wydlopende impak gehad het op die aard van teater in ons land. Een belangrike invloed is op die aard van die toneelstuk self ('n "vollengte" stuk is deesdae enigiets van 'n uur tot twee uur lank, maar verkieslik een uur, want dan pas dit in 'n fees-tydgleuf; 'n stuk bevat net enkele spelers en gebruik 'n eenvoudige stel, want dan toer hy maklik en kos min, en dies meer). 'n Ander is die spoed waarteen werk geskryf en opgevoer word - alles is basies kontrakwerk, gemaak vir 'n fees binne 'n spesifieke jaar.

Dan is daar die blote aantal aanbiedinge - wat alles daarop dui dat daar kunstenaars is wat werk en kan oorleef en dat daar tog nog iets soos 'n teaterbredryf is. Gesien dat die staat nie werklik bydra tot die bedryf nie, is dit 'n enorme faktor.

'n Ander, meer kommerwekkende, saak het te doen met wat ek sou noem die verlies aan kulturele geheue: die ou werke, die "klassieke" tekste, word selde gebruik; almal doen eie, nuwe werk (dit kos geen tantieme nie!). Die positiewe hieraan is dat kreatiwiteit en tittilasie van gehore steeds aangewakker word, maar die negatiewe is die oordadige herontdekking van die afgesaagde stories en tegnieke, 'n soort rigtinglose eksperimentasie wat baie voorkom. (Daarom, dalk, is die uitsonderings so wonderlik, nie waar nie?) Maar miskien was dit alles nog altyd maar so; daar is net soveel daarvan dat ons meer bewus is daarvan.

Aan gehoorkant is die interessante ontwikkelling werklik die feit dat teater weer toer, maar dat gehore ook toer - almal na die feesdorpe. Dit word uitstappies en vakansies met familie of vriende, 'n merkwaardige fenomeen wat werklik moontlikhede inhou vir sinvolle ontwikkelling van binnelandse toerisme en die verspreiding van kultuur.

Die feit is natuurlik dat 'n fees - om 'n fees te kan wees - uiteindelik getrou moet wees aan sy wesensaard. Soos Wilmar Sauter dit stel, die fundamentele oorsprong van die fees is die spelende kultuur, want die aard van daardie kultuur bepaal die wyse waarop feeste sal ontstaan en bedryf word. Om fees te vier is om te lag en te sing en partytjie te hou, soos met 'n basaar of 'n kermis. 'n Byeenkoms van mense - en as dit mense met dieselfde taal of kultuur of geloofsoortuigings is, soveel te beter. Hoe mense - individue en groepe - dit sal bedryf en benut, is iets wat tyd en die lewe wys. Baie daarvan is nie vir bestuur vatbaar nie, dit gebeur net. (Dit het natuurlik sy irriterende probleme: As bier en braai 'n kenmerk van 'n streek is, hoe kan mens verwag dat dit nie ook 'n kenmerk van 'n fees in die streek sal wees nie? As die fees oorval is deur jongmense, hoe hou jy die poporkeste weg? As mense oorwegend televisie- en rugbykykers is, hoe kan jy verwag dat hulle oor tradisionele teateretiket sou beskik? Ensovoorts.)

Dat daar ook kuns na vore kom, kunsgebeurtenisse plaasvind, gesprekke oor kuns gevoer word, is net 'n bonus. 'n Groot en soms verrassende bonus, maar nie noodwendig een wat ons kan (of ooit kon) beheer, stuur of bestuur nie. Al wat ons en die besture van die tientalle feeste (met hul borge, kunskabinette, raadgewers en dies meer) eintlik kan doen, is om die geleentheid om te speel daar te stel, met 'n speelruimte, 'n paar spelers en 'n gehoor - enige beskikbare gehoor …

Klink ook maar baie na 'n beskrywing van die aard en geskiedenis van die teater oor die eeue, nie waar nie?







*Temple Hauptfleisch is 'n teater- en taalnavorser, teaterkritikus, -historikus en -dosent, en dramaturg. Gebore op 27 Junie 1945 in Bloemfontein. Voltooi sy hele skoolloopbaan op Grey Kollege, waarna hy 'n BA (Engels en Latyn), BA Hons (Engels) en Onderwysdiploma aan die UOVS behaal. Word 'n onderwyser aan Grey Kollege, en speel deeltyds toneel en dien as voorhuisbestuurder vir SUKOVS. In 1972 voltooi hy 'n Meestersgraad in Engelse letterkunde (Greek Dramatic Conventions in Modern Drama) en sluit by die Instituut vir Taal, Lettere en Kuns van die Raad vir Geesteswetenskaplike Navorsing (RGN) in Pretoria aan as 'n sosiolinguis (waar hy aan taalpatrone en taalhoudings in Suid-Afrika werk). In 1978 verwerf hy die graad Litt et Phil by UNISA (The Play as Communication: A Study of the Language of Drama) en word hy die hoof van die Nasionale Dokumentasiesentrum vir die Uitvoerende Kunste, met die uitdruklike opdrag om dit te omskep van argief wat primêr dokumentasie-aktiwiteite onderneem, tot 'n volwaardige navorsingsentrum. Die Sentrum se naam verander na die Sentrum vir Suid-Afrikaanse Teaternavorsing (SESAT), en dit is in hierdie sentrum waar hy talle artikels en boeke geskryf het oor die beginsels van teaternavorsing en die geskiedenis van die Suid-Afrikaanse teater. Hy en Ian Steadman het in 1987 die enigste vaktydskrif op die gebied - die South African Theatre Journal - gestig, en hy bedryf dit tans nog as alleeenredakteur en uitgewer. Hy het in dié jare ook verskeie bundels toneeltekste, veral eenbedrywe vir skole, saamgestel en geredigeer, en 'n aantal Afrikaanse toneelstukke geskryf. 'n Eenbedryf (Wie is Leopold) het in 1971 die ATKV Prysvraag vir Drama gewen, terwyl 'n politieke stuk, Bloedlyn, met sukses in 1974 deur Dinkteater opgevoer is. Twee ander stukke is later ook in Pretoria deur opleidingsinstansies opgevoer, naamlik Onder die Brandberg deur die Onderwyskollege (1982) en Op Salvokop deur Wits by Kampustoneel in 1985. In 1988 word hy senior lektor en navorser by die Universiteit van Stellenbosch se Dramadepartment en in 1994 stig hy die Sentrum vir Teaternavorsing daar. In 1994 word hy bevorder tot medeprofessor (ad hominem) en in 1995 tot vol professor en voorsitter van die Departement Drama, en direkteur van die H.B. Thom Teater by die Universiteit van Stellenbosch, poste wat hy tans nog het. Hy werk die afgelope agt jaar al aan 'n bondige ensiklopedie oor Suid-Afrikaanse teater (A Companion to South African Theatre) en doen navorsing oor feeste in Suid-Afrika vir 'n internasionale publikasie. 'n Nuwe toneelstuk - 'n Loopsopie op die Damaskuspad - oor Langenhoven en Mark Twain is in 2002 geskryf met 'n toekenning van die Nasionale Kunsteraad. Hy is lid van die Nasionale Navorsingstigting se paneel van deskundiges oor die kunste, en 'n lid van die bestuur van die International Federation for Theatre Research.



Bronnelys:

Afrikaanse Woordfees. Program 8-14 Maart 2004.

Hauptfleisch, Temple. 2001. The Eventification of Afrikaans Culture - Some thoughts on the Klein Karoo National Arts Festival. South African Theatre Journal (SATJ) Vol. 16.

Hauptfleisch, Temple. 2003. The Cultural Bazaar: Thoughts on festival culture after a visit to the 2003 Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees (KKNK) in Oudtshoorn. South African Theatre Journal (SATJ) Vol. 17.

Hauptfleisch, Temple. 2003. Eventification: Utilizing the Theatrical System to Frame the Event. In: Theatrical Events - Borders Dynamics Frames. (Eds Vicky Ann Cremona, Peter Eversmann, Hans van Maanen, Wilmar Sauter and John Tulloch.) Rodopi Publishers, Amsterdam, pp. 278-302.

Kamp, Michael. 2003. Festivalisering: Een culturele stem van het Zuid-Afrika van vandaag. In een politieke, economische, culturele en kunsten context. Unpublished Masters dissertation. University of Amsterdam.

Kaptein, Paul. 1996. De beginperiode van het Holland Festival. Festivals en festivalisering. In: R.L. Erenstein (ed), Een theater geschiedenis de Nederlanden. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, pp. 672-680.

Kitshoff, Herman. 2004. Claiming Cultural Festivals: Playing for Power at the Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees. (KKNK) (Ongepubliseerde artikel, aanvaar vir SATJ).

KKNK 2003. Feesgids. Oudtshoorn: KKNK.

Krit. 2003. Die uitgawes van Saterdag 29 Maart tot Woensdag 2 April 2003.

Stadler, Hanlie. 2003. Die ABC van die KKNK is dat dit 'n groot F is. Rapport, 6 April 2003, p. 3.

Kruger, Loren. 1999. The Drama of South Africa. Plays, pageants and publics since 1910. Londen: Routledge.

Martin, Jacqueline et al. 2003. The festival as theatrical event. In: Theatrical Events - Borders Dynamics Frames. (Eds Vicky Ann Cremona, Peter Eversmann, Hans van Maanen, Wilmar Sauter and John Tulloch.). Rodopi Publishers, Amsterdam, pp. 91-110.

Merrington, Peter. 1999. The "New Pageantry" and Performance Studies. Paper read at the SASTR Conference, Stellenbosch 11-12 September. (Unpublished)

NACSA - Arts and Culture Events Database. 2004.

Nieuwoudt, Stephanie. 2001. Die feeste is die nuwe teaterseisoen. Die Burger, 20 Oktober 2001.

PANSA 2004. Special Newsletter. Report on PANSA forum on 29 July re National Arts Festival.

Rautenbach, Elmari. 2001. KKNK Feesgids. 7-14 April 2001.

Staub, August. 1992. The social uses of festival: Transformation and disfiguration. South African Theatre Journal. 6/1, pp. 4-24.

Volksbladkunstefees. Program 13-18 Julie 2004.



23 September 2004

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