This text brings together three recorded discussions from the creative workshops for I_Shenzhen in 2021. Director Sifan Shao and the participants explore how personal experiences can become theatre, questions of theatrical form, the relationship between people and the city, and the acts of telling and listening. These conversations offer a glimpse into the ideas and explorations that shaped the creation of the production.
1. Defining the Theme and the Principles of Creation
Sifan:
What I mainly want to talk about today is the direction of our work from here. We can continue discussing the details tomorrow, but since Feifei and Xiaomi may not be here, I thought we could take this opportunity, while everyone is together, to talk about the production we’re preparing for June and consider where we want to take it.
This time, the theme will definitely be the city. Our previous production, SUNNY, was about our everyday lives during that particular period in 2020.
A play, whether long or short, needs a very clear theme. Otherwise, it’s easy to lose our way. We may not know exactly what we’re performing, and the audience may find it difficult to understand. So if we’re working towards a performance, we need to be very clear about the theme.
Today I’d like us to discuss how we want to approach the city, how we want to approach Shenzhen, and where we might begin. That will help us understand what we should be preparing.
During these workshops, besides continuing with our exercises, we also need to generate material for the production.
You all live in Shenzhen, but each of you has a different relationship with the city, a different story. As someone who doesn’t live here, I find what you share fascinating, both during our previous workshop and this time.
Your experiences, your relationships with Shenzhen, the ways you see the city, your professions, are all very different. For an outsider like me, there’s an extraordinary richness in all of this.
But within that richness, we need to identify a few themes. What exactly do we want to express? What do we, as a group, want to say through this production?
The general direction is still theatre rooted in everyday life. We’re a group of non-professional performers using theatre to express our attitudes towards life, our perspectives and our personal feelings.
As for how we’ll do it, I’ll eventually work with the material you provide and develop it into a script.
For you, the most important thing is to understand the content and the direction, to know what we’re trying to do and what we want to express.
Because this is a collective voice. What each person wants to express needs to connect with what we want to express together.
So today we can begin discussing these questions and think about how to prepare, step by step, between now and the performances in June.
If anyone has ideas or questions, particularly those who didn’t take part in the previous production, please bring them up. Those who participated last time can also share their experience.
Zhou He:
I wasn’t here for the last session, so I’m not entirely sure: are we approaching this from the broader perspective of the city, or are we still starting from ourselves?
Even though the theme is the city, are we ultimately still approaching it through our personal experiences?
Because SUNNY was built around our own true stories. Will this production take a similar form, except that the theme is now the city, Shenzhen, and our relationship with it?
Sifan:
Yes. I think I mentioned this last time. When we work with spontaneous writing, one thing we need to remember is that, whatever happens, what we’re creating will ultimately be a work of art.
Everything we produce comes from your personal experiences. But in SUNNY, we didn’t necessarily feel that a particular story belonged to one particular person. Once we brought it onto the stage, it belonged to everyone.
I don’t particularly want it to remain a purely documentary form of expression: “This is my story, and this is what happened to me.”
What we produce together in this very safe, private and free space still needs to be fictionalised, transformed into theatre.
Once that happens, you’re actually playing a character. The material is real because it comes from your own lives. But when you perform, you’re not playing yourselves. You’re playing fictional characters.
This is very important to me, especially with this way of working.
Through fiction, we can express ourselves more freely. We can take emotions and feelings to their extremes without having to explain: “In my private life, I’m actually like this, or like that.”
None of that matters. The audience doesn’t need to know.
What matters is that such a character exists, someone who offers the possibility of empathy, who makes an audience member think: “I feel as though I could experience something like that too.”
Whether the audience lives in Shenzhen or somewhere else, they may recognise that feeling.
So we’re continuing with the creative approach we developed for SUNNY.
Because at its core, the material still belongs to all of you. These are emotions and reactions that anyone might experience.
2. Finding the Right Theatrical Form
Sifan:
I have an idea at the moment. I think this production should have some visual continuity with our previous SUNNY.
For example, the long table we used last time, with a group of friends sitting around it.
I might keep that table, or perhaps use it differently.
But I think there’s something worth continuing in that theatrical form: a group of people sitting around a long table, telling their stories and sharing their experiences.
The table can be used for eating, or someone can stand on it and turn it into a stage. There are many possibilities.
So that’s one direction I’m considering.
As for lighting, I’ll be working with the same lighting designer as last time.
And speaking of music, does anyone here play an instrument?
Xiaoxue:
I haven’t practised much, but I can play some popular piano pieces, things like Richard Clayderman.
Xue Yang:
I could contribute some dance.
Xiaotian:
I used to play the piano… I’m probably not very good anymore.
Leilei:
I’ll have to practise my guitar first.
Sifan:
This morning we also tried some contact improvisation.
Yesterday we talked about bringing more artistic forms into the production. I think we can develop the physical side further.
Today we saw some really beautiful moments. If we brought them onto the stage, they could become beautiful theatrical images.
Those of you who performed in SUNNY know that it was made up of many images from everyday life.
Sometimes a single image is enough. Just a beautiful moment.
You don’t necessarily need to explain what that image means. It’s there, and it’s already beautiful.
So I’d like us to bring in more elements of this kind, music, movement and physical expression.
Leilei:
I’d like to say something.
Those of us who performed in SUNNY need to be ready to go further this time. We should prepare ourselves to make some progress.
The new participants have only just joined us, and they’ll need time to adapt. But those of us who’ve been here before should set an example.
We need to improve certain things, like getting the lines right. That should be better this time.
Sifan:
Actually, I think the most precious thing about SUNNY was precisely that it was a continuation of our workshop.
What the audience saw onstage was the state you were in during the workshop. That’s what was most captivating.
Many people have fixed ideas about theatre, even misconceptions. They don’t necessarily imagine that theatre can be like this.
So when they see people onstage in that kind of state, I think it’s something very special.
The real challenge is how to allow the audience to see that same state in a performance space, rather than here in the workshop.
Here, we’re relaxed.
But once we’re in the theatre, after several days of intense rehearsals, followed by two days working with the lighting and technical teams, everything becomes very tense.
How do we make sure that what the audience sees is still the way you are here, rather than people who are nervous and unsure of themselves?
That’s extremely difficult.
But you managed it last time, and I think that was remarkable.
So the most important thing this time is to preserve that quality, to allow people who know nothing about our way of working to see that workshop state onstage.
Zhou He:
After the performance, a friend asked me, “Zhou He, when you said ‘I’m really nervous,’ was that a line, or were you actually feeling nervous?”
Several people asked me the same thing.
I do look like someone who gets nervous easily.
I was a little nervous at the time, but not that nervous. And there was already a line about being nervous in the script.
Feifei:
That day, I really felt I was watching something very real. It completely changed my previous impression.
Sifan’s work has a particular quality. It’s very close to everyday life, but there’s also a certain sophistication to it. That’s genuinely how I felt.
Because everyone had lived through that particular period, it was easy to relate to.
I think it’s very important that the audience should be able to recognise something of themselves in the performance and feel empathy.
And the way each person embodied their character also contributed to the quality of the production. I think that’s important.
Xiaomi:
Quite a few of our members came to see the performance, and their feedback was very genuine.
But there’s something I’d like to say openly, since we’re all among friends.
Many people thought the stage was too bare.
After all, it was a ticketed performance, so the audience came with certain expectations.
As Sifan said, people have their own ideas about theatre, and those ideas can be limited. So they may have felt that the stage was too simple.
But the truthfulness of the material still moved them.
What I mean is that the production itself was already very good. If the stage setting had been more developed, perhaps the audience would have felt that the whole production had an even stronger visual quality.
Xue Yang:
I think it’s a question of perception.
Many people still imagine a stage as something grand and luxurious.
Leilei:
I think this production will certainly go a step further.
We’ve just talked about bringing different art forms together, and about some of Sifan’s ideas for the staging.
But I think we still need to build everything on solid content. We mustn’t let form take precedence over substance.
Sifan:
I understand what Xiaomi means.
Of course, our style will remain very minimalist.
That’s simply my approach. Even if a producer gave me an enormous budget, my stage design would still be minimalist.
Because I think we need to leave empty space in order to create more images.
For example, some productions at the National Theatre of China or the Shanghai Dramatic Arts Centre have very elaborate, realistic sets. Sometimes they become so literal that they end up looking rather tacky.
They’re very realistic, but there’s also something about them that feels like an imitation of foreign productions. To me, it looks tacky.
So I think sometimes quality comes precisely from simplicity.
But within that simplicity, we do need to improve the quality of every element.
That’s something we need to work on.
Leilei:
I think there can be objects onstage, but every object needs to have a reason for being there.
That’s what’s important.
Feifei:
I think the most important thing is still whether the stories can resonate with the audience.
In the previous production, there were many things people could relate to, because everyone had lived through that period.
3. The Relationship with the Audience and the Performer’s Commitment
Xue Yang:
After listening to everyone’s stories today, I think this production about Shenzhen is going to be very moving.
Why?
Because I can hear how sincere everyone’s love for Shenzhen is. It comes from somewhere very deep.
I think those feelings will move the audience, because people watching may have experienced something similar.
That sense of empathy could become one of the foundations of the production, perhaps even the focus of our discussions.
Sifan:
This is something that’s actually very difficult to obtain from professional actors.
Because they can’t necessarily bring the same personal experiences that you have.
Everything you’ve shared today comes from your own feelings and experiences.
That’s what makes it so precious, and that’s why it can create empathy.
Xiaotian:
I was wondering, whether we eventually make an immersive production or something else, could we establish some kind of connection with the audience?
We all live in Shenzhen, and so do the people watching.
In that sense, we’re all the same.
So I was thinking, if we could create some kind of interaction between the audience and the stage, could that give us a feeling of moving from the individual towards the collective?
Sifan:
I’ve thought about that.
As I said earlier, an immersive form has both advantages and disadvantages.
The advantage is that it makes it easier for the audience and performers to share the same space.
For example, we could set up a large table and have everyone sit around it together.
It would be like a dinner party.
You’re the performers, they’re the audience, but you’re all sharing the same dinner.
You’re performing, and they’re like friends sitting around the table, listening to other friends tell their stories.
That’s one possibility.
But the disadvantage is that we would lose many other possibilities for theatrical expression.
Dance, multimedia, and certain kinds of staging, for example.
Once we choose an immersive form, the relationship between the audience and the performers changes.
Imagine everyone sitting around a table, and suddenly you begin to dance. Depending on where they’re sitting, some audience members might have to turn around awkwardly to see what’s happening.
So we should decide on the form only once we know what material we’re working with.
Xue Yang:
I think there are risks.
There would be many unpredictable elements, and it would place greater demands on the performers.
We might also lose something essential to theatre.
Sifan:
For you, the most difficult thing is learning how to be genuinely yourselves in an environment that isn’t real.
The stage itself is an artificial space, but within that space you need to express your most genuine emotions.
That’s very difficult.
But those of you who participated last time have already experienced this, and you did it very well.
I think that’s something you need to hold on to.
What I appreciate about them is that they have a kind of innocence and childlike quality that actors need. They don’t constantly step outside themselves to watch what they’re doing.
If you start thinking, “How am I doing this? What does it look like?”, you’re already beginning to think like a director.
And once that happens, you enter a very awkward state: you’re no longer completely inside the performance, but you’re not entirely outside it either. You’re somewhere in between.
For example, when you were dancing earlier, you couldn’t see the images you were creating.
If you tried to step outside yourselves to look at them, everything would begin to feel strange.
But if you stopped thinking about how it looked and simply committed yourselves completely, what we saw from the outside would be natural and beautiful.
So sometimes the most important thing is simply to commit yourself to what you’re doing and believe in that moment.
I always tell actors that whatever happened before, and whatever may happen afterwards, in this moment, we choose to believe.
Only then can we give our best.
We can doubt ourselves before the performance. We can reflect critically on what we’ve done afterwards.
But in that moment, here and now, you have to believe in yourself. You have to commit yourself completely.
That’s extremely important.
4. I_Shenzhen: Continuity and Creative Challenges
Sifan:
After listening to everyone today, one thing has become very clear to me.
What we’re doing now with I_Shenzhen is a continuation of our previous SUNNY, which was about everyday life in 2020.
But this production won’t be easy.
Why?
As Nandao said earlier, everyone who lives in a city has their own feelings about it.
And because you live here, you’ll naturally tend to look at the city with a certain generosity.
Whether you’ve had good experiences or bad ones, because this is where you live, you’ll ultimately approach it with goodwill.
It’s the same for me in Beijing. Whatever happens there, I tend to look at the city with as much goodwill as possible, because it’s where I live.
5. Theatre Is Not a Slogan or an Explanation
What makes this difficult is that the production could very easily turn into a slogan: everything is good, everything is full of positive energy.
But slogans and positive energy don’t really help us understand a city.
As I listened to you earlier, I kept thinking: what makes something theatre?
If we’re making theatre, theatre rooted in everyday life, then we’re not organising an exhibition or a conference.
We’re not trying to explain things to the audience in an illustrative way: “Look, this is what I think, and now I’m going to explain it to you.”
That’s not what theatre is.
Theatre offers experiences that are as real and concrete as possible: memories, things that have happened to us, things we want to share.
Without labels.
Without telling the audience, “This is wonderful,” “This is terrible,” “This is moving,” or “This is something you should dislike.”
Without making those judgements.
We simply share our experiences and memories, and allow other people to feel something for themselves.
Let them decide whether they like Shenzhen, whether they want to live here.
I think that’s the first thing.
6. The City as Human Experience and Connection
Of course, because you’re such genuine people, when I listen to your stories, as someone who doesn’t live in Shenzhen, I begin to develop feelings for the city.
Not the kind of absolute feeling that says, “This is the best city,” or “This is a bad city.”
What I feel is that this city has a great deal of human warmth.
Where does that warmth come from?
From the fact that the city is made up of people like you.
So I don’t think our focus should be on promoting how wonderful Shenzhen is.
We’re making I_Shenzhen because you live in Shenzhen.
If you lived in Beijing, we’d be making a SUNNY about Beijing.
We’re not trying to show how wonderful the city is. It’s the people who live here who allow us to experience its beauty.
A city is actually something rather abstract. It’s made up of people.
And because those people are you, what we experience will naturally have warmth and humanity.
As I listened to you earlier, I kept thinking that we don’t need to make everything so explicit.
Some things will emerge naturally, simply because they’re coming from you.
That’s how I feel as someone who doesn’t live in Shenzhen, listening to your stories.
I think that’s something we can hold on to in I_Shenzhen.
Because once a performance becomes nothing more than a declaration of how wonderful Shenzhen is, it loses much of its power.
Especially since most of the audience will probably be people who live here.
They already know what Shenzhen is like. They don’t need you to explain it.
What’s precious is that they may see people onstage who are very much like themselves.
Why were you all so moved when Xiaotian was sharing her story earlier?
Because you suddenly realised that we’re all connected.
Sometimes it’s just one small detail that makes you realise you have something in common.
I think that’s what we need to hold on to.
To allow the audience to find, in some small detail, a connection with you.
Isn’t that what a city is?
People connected to one another in different ways.
I think that’s something we can explore in I_Shenzhen.
7. Developing the Material: Writing as a Dramaturgical Act
Since we decided to make this production, we’ve already gathered a great deal of material.
I think there’s some very good material there, but it’s not enough yet.
We need more.
One direction I’ve been thinking about is writing.
We could take this theatre workshop a step further and ask everyone to sit down and actually write something.
We’ve already been working with spontaneous writing here, but we could also try putting things down on paper.
I think there’s something very moving about that.
How many people still take the time to sit down and write seriously?
Because when you really begin to write, you’re looking at yourself. You have to draw out your thoughts and concentrate them.
Sometimes spontaneous writing works very well. But sometimes, when you sit down and write, you can express more precisely what you really want to say.
Of course, there are different possibilities. Some people may become too elaborate in their writing, and that doesn’t necessarily work either.
But I think everyone could try.
Those of you who have decided to take part in I_Shenzhen could each write something.
It could be just one or two sentences.
If you can write more, write more. But at least put something down on paper.
It could be a letter to Shenzhen, or a letter to your younger self, to the person you were before coming to Shenzhen, or to someone who’s about to arrive here.
I think the act of writing is already something deeply sincere. If we bring that act onto the stage, it becomes a theatrical event.
Just like the long letter Xiaotian wrote today and shared with us.
That in itself is a theatrical event.
We found it sincere and moving because she took the time and made the effort to do it.
I think that’s very moving.
So those of you who haven’t written anything yet could try writing a few lines.
8. Creative Direction: Utopia, Form and Working Conditions
There’s something else.
We have many different people in this workshop, people of different ages, backgrounds and professions.
That allows us to see Shenzhen from many different perspectives.
But as a play, the work will eventually need to arrive somewhere.
I think we could move towards something a little utopian.
If we could make this city develop in the direction we imagine, what would it become?
What would I be willing to do to make that happen?
Perhaps it’s entirely utopian.
But I think there’s something beautiful about a play about a city ultimately arriving at a kind of utopia.
Since I live in this city, what would my ideal city look like?
What could I do to help create it?
Or perhaps there’s nothing I can do at all?
I think that’s another interesting direction.
So between the end of today’s workshop and the moment when the script takes shape, we’ll need to continue working along these lines.
To give the production more layers.
The performance doesn’t need to be very long.
I’d like it to be around an hour, like our previous SUNNY.
We need to select and concentrate the strongest material.
I don’t want it to become a long play.
I’d rather the audience experience these things over a relatively brief but beautiful period of time, about an hour.
As for the number of participants, I don’t think that’s a major problem.
The one thing we need to pay attention to is attendance during the rehearsals leading up to the performance, particularly for the new participants.
Those who took part last time already have some idea of how the process works.
But if someone has only attended one workshop and then disappears until a few days before the performance, I wouldn’t really recommend that.
It would be very difficult for that person to develop a shared state with the rest of the group in such a short time.
For the previous SUNNY, we met many times before the performances, and the group was relatively stable.
Although people came and went, those who remained were the ones who had continued participating.
9. Telling and Listening: The Foundations of the Workshop
Sifan:
Actually, something as simple as this is already theatre.
One person speaks. Another person listens.
How we speak, how we listen, these things are already theatrical.
We’re now making a production about Shenzhen, so we need to generate a lot of material.
Each person’s relationship with Shenzhen, little stories, memories.
But at the same time, this is also a theatrical exercise.
How do you tell a story about yourself?
And how does another person listen to that story?
The process itself is already theatrical.
At this stage, I don’t think we need to worry too much about how to turn all of this into a play.
Because for the person generating the material, whether through spontaneous writing or by telling a personal story, it’s much like the improvisation exercises we’ve done before.
You need to be completely immersed in what you’re doing.
In that state, it’s very difficult to think like a director or a playwright at the same time.
Because once you begin thinking that way, what you say starts to become shaped or embellished.
It may become more exciting, more rhythmic, but it may also lose its sincerity.
We begin to sense the technique behind it.
And at this stage, we don’t need that technique.
Technique can come later.
For example, before the performance, we’ll certainly need to work on rhythm.
I’ve always said that rhythm is important. There shouldn’t be unnecessary pauses.
But that’s for the next stage.
Right now, during the creative process, I’d like everyone to express themselves more directly.
Some of what comes out will be sincere. Some of it may be dull, or even unclear.
Because we’re not selecting anything yet.
We’re simply saying what we want to say.
So for now, you don’t need to worry too much about these things.
But we can still set limits on time.
For example, you could give yourself ten minutes to say what you want to express.
There’s another important question: how does the person listening actually listen?
When I hear what you’re saying, how do I respond?
Am I really listening?
What does what I’m hearing make me feel?
We’re all listening, aren’t we?
And the person listening onstage also represents the audience, in a way.
So how do we make listening an active rather than a passive act?
Sometimes when we listen to someone speaking, we’re actually passive.
We don’t particularly want to listen, but the other person keeps talking.
So what does it mean to listen actively?
It means genuinely listening to what the other person is saying and establishing a relationship with them.
Listening and responding are not the same thing.
But the response needs to emerge naturally from the exchange.
If we deliberately produce reactions to demonstrate that we’re listening, then that becomes another kind of performance.
And there’s no need for that.
So I think the question of how to listen is something we can continue to experience and explore.