[Beginning]
Part 1: The Felt Sense & the
Morphic Field
Sometimes we find ourselves walking into spaces that are unfamiliar, where we have never been before, yet there is a knowing that we can feel. We feel it in our bodies, within our felt sense.
“A felt sense is the body’s sense of a particular problem or situation. A felt sense is not an emotion. We recognize emotions. We know when we are angry, or sad, or glad. A felt sense is something you do not at first recognize—it is vague and murky. It feels meaningful, but not known. It is a body-sense of meaning. When you learn how to focus, you will discover that the body finding its own way provides its own answers to many of your problems.”[1]
We may feel better or worse, as we move towards, through or away from a specific site, an alleyway, a street in a city, an open field with rocks, an open doorway, a broken window or perhaps a building, a theatre, a church, or someone else’s home. We may very well be influenced by the visual semiotics of these spaces that we inhabit in our everyday lives, and that we may understand through our particular un/conscious socio-cultural lens. We may also recognize something that is afoot in the field that surrounds us as we physically enter into these spaces. This eventual recognition of that something other, that may at first be difficult or foggy to verbalize, can often remain invisible to the naked eye. In that instance, we might simply stay with just the knowing and the embodiment of that knowledge as an epistemic sensation. That can and sometimes is enough to offer us the wisdom of choosing whether to stay somewhere, retreat, or keep on moving.
In his seminal book, In an Unspoken Voice, trauma therapist and medical bio-physicist Dr. Peter A. Levine writes:
“William James, a century ago, had argued that a person’s passing states of consciousness create a false sense of a “I” or ego runs the show. Neuroscientist Wegner took this further, adding that the average people’s belief that they even have a self that consciously controls their actions is simply an illusion. Is this a farewell to Freud’s ego and Descartes’ cogito ego sum? Although this new credo, “I think; therefore, I am,” was an important start to freeing people from the rigidity o church doctrine, it’s in great need of revision. Today’s credo should be more like, “I prepare to move, I act, I sense, I feel, I perceive, I reflect, I think and therefore I am.”[2]
I sense, therefore I am. This phrase builds upon what Eugene T. Gendlin wrote in relation to the felt sense, in his book Focusing (Gendlin 1978), published some 30 years earlier. Both Levine and Gendlin invite the reader to reconsider that inner authority within the body, based on which one make decisions in life. It is that place from within that may guide one to choose to act from or react to. Some others may call this the gut feeling, or intuition, or even empathy, sixth-sense, or perhaps another term: morphic resonance. In an interview about his book, Morphic Resonance: The Nature of Formative Causation (1982), theoretical biologist Rupert Sheldrake says:
“Morphic resonance is the influence of previous structures of activity on subsequent similar structures of activity organized by morphic fields. It enables memories to pass across both space and time from the past. The greater the similarity, the greater the influence of morphic resonance. What this means is that all self-organizing systems, such as molecules, crystals, cells, plants, animals and animal societies, have a collective memory on which each individual draws and to which it contributes. In its most general sense this hypothesis implies that the so-called laws of nature are more like habits.”[3]
I believe site specific performance works in a similar way. Sheldrake speaks of sites that harbor these fields as fields of memory, and those sites that have had traumatic histories, are sites with field disturbances that can be felt, sensed in the body. The very idea that information can be passed through a non-linear and spatial dimension that does not adhere to chronological and tactile matter, has been one of the epistemological principles of psychotherapist Bert Hellinger’s famous spiritual-psychotherapeutic practice called Family Systemic Constellations, or sometimes referred to as Constellation Work (CW).
CW was first introduced in Germany by Bert Hellinger in the 1970s (Cohen 2006). In Germany, it was originally a method to address the traumatic effects of World War II (Ulsamer 2005). Since the 1980s, CW has grown into an internationally recognised movement (Anderson and Carnabucci 2009) and has been defined as an intergenerational healing (Payne 2005), peace building (Cohen 2009) and reconciliation process (Hellinger 2003).[4]
CW is other-worldly. If you have ever experienced one you will know that something extraordinary happens in this particular moment in time-space when twenty odd strangers gather in a circle to create sanctuary for one another, processing difficult trauma, calling upon ghosts, and embodying each other’s’ family, systemic and ancestral stories. They attempt to introduce the flow of life back into a system that might be broken, abandoned, or sick. It is a moment in material chronological time (i.e., Chronos time) when we can feel the effects of change at the speed of light (i.e., Kairos time). Hence once can feel within their body the effects of morphic resonance, of connecting with ancestors through felt sense when past, present and future co-exist in one environment and the bodies in that environment are moved from within without knowing why or how. And this, is merely one exploration of the possibilities of phenomenology.
The main objective of this paper is to explore the causal effects of healing, transformation and change of performances that take place or that are purposefully designed to take place on sites of historical, social and political contestation or trauma. Specifically, I look at these through the lens of the morphic field of resonance and the principles of Constellation Work.
Part 2: The Battle of Orgreave
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[Figure 1]
In 2001, British artist Jeremy Deller directed and staged the re-creation of the Battle of Orgreave, a violent confrontation that took place on 18 June 1984 between the miners of Orgreave and the South Yorkshire police force.
“The Battle of Orgreave encompassed the twin facets of heritage culture: the recreation of past events as part of an educational-historical methodology and the transformation of industrial heritage into a spectator experience. Since the 1980s there has been a shift away from conceptions of heritage as being solely concerned with ancient or royal sites to reflect an increased interest in vernacular and recent twentieth-century culture; ordinary, everyday or working-class culture is now seized upon and celebrated.” [5]
In the documentary bearing the same name, The Battle of Orgreave, released in 2001, the viewer witnesses a series of rehearsals and interviews of those that took part in the re-enactment of the battle. Deller discusses his intentions and fascinations with the battle, and also the unresolved feelings of having watched the protests on television in 1984, which had depicted the miners taking first-action against the police. It has been reported by several witnesses at the time that the televised coverage by the BBC chose to playback the footage from the site in a somewhat reconstructed non-chronological order, portraying the miners as undertaking first actions of violence. 30 years later, a spokesman for the BBC said: “Thirty years on, it is difficult to reach definitive conclusions, but our investigations have uncovered no evidence of any deliberate attempt to mislead viewers in the coverage of the Battle of Orgreave.”[6]
Jeremy Deller’s “staging a re-enactment of the 1984 conflict can be conceived as “performance art dealing with socio-political concerns which challenge the biased histories of the dominant power.”[7]
And so, through the re-enactment of 2001, the chronology of events was set right, or as close to the witnesses’ and miners’ memory as possible, i.e., depicting the police entering into violence before the miners taking action. Some of the collaborating participants and volunteers in the re-enactment included original members of the mining community who participated in the 1984 strike, who had decided to step into the role of the police in the re-enactment. This paints a more intricate picture regarding the power dynamics and play of identity/role-swapping that emerged from the performative space facilitated by Deller. In a later interview, Deller was quoted stating that he was “surprised people said it was a healing experience’.”[8]
![]()
[Figure 2]
And that is a key question; why was it a healing experience for the community at Orgreave, for the miners, for the members of the public involved? It is important to consider the location where the re-enactment took place, that is, right on and next to the grounds of the original strike in 1984. Situating the performance in the same geographical coordinates where the violence took place, will undoubtedly have re-surfaced memories for those who were present at both events. With the embodied memory of what happened 30 years earlier, the bodies in that space would have been confronted with something visceral, familiar, and paradoxical. Peter Levine calls the accessing of trauma memory, a piece of life-force energy that got frozen in the body due to an incomplete response to orient towards danger or successfully escape a threat. So how would those miners have discharged or thawed frozen energy, thirty years on? What would have allowed for movement to happen, renegotiating the embodied trauma of a battle? This is where we can understand the healing potential of the re-enactment through the phenomenon of timelessness that occurs in both Constellation Work and Somatic Experiencing.
In the re-enactment of the Battle of Orgreave, there were those miners representing themselves, just 30 years older, there were those miners representing the police, and then there were those volunteers representing the miners, who possibly hadn’t even been born in 1984. This experience begins to collide time into one location, where past and present begin to blur. As some of the reports from the re-enactment state. Systemic Ritual facilitator Daan van Kampenhout describes this moment of time collision as follows:
“When the linear experience of time is broken, the flow of the stories we constantly tell ourselves in our minds is disrupted…When the inner stories about ourselves and others have lost their grip on our attention, what we start to feel is the actual experience of the energy linked to these stories, the energy that is their essence…Experiencing timelessness, and in this way opening up for more essential layers of experience is a key factor in healing…”[9]
The essence of the story at hand was one of victim-perpetrator dynamics and of historical events being placed in the right chronological order through a performative re-enactment. Some of the founding principles of Hellinger’s Constellation Work are that in order to find healing we need to be in the right place, and also in the right time. In being able to set the sequence of events straight, both through a dialogical process and through the performance itself, the participants offered a movement of healing towards the harm that was caused in the misrepresentation of the mining community in 1984. In doing so, “The Battle of Orgreave opposed a heritage system in which the past is remembered through sanitized memories. Orgreave was not the past seen from a safe distance, but rather history presented as unfinished business.”[10]
Bert Hellinger once said that “everything we hate and we shun, we engage with and become”, so the danger in “living a life based on being a victim is one in which you can unconsciously live out being the perpetrator”. In a constellation process, when we are able to step into the shoes of that essence and energy that is so diametrically opposed to our inner story and truth, we can attempt to “give peace to the system”. Perhaps this is what happened with those miners that chose to step into the shoes of the police force, reclaiming their identity and agency through the discharging of unresolved energy frozen in the shape of traumatic memories of the harm done to them 30 years earlier through this quasi-shamanic experience. One can thus see the way in which The Battle of Orgreave was very much a Systemic Constellation being played out on a large scale, colliding time periods in order to bring peace to contested political agendas. The reversal of roles that took place in Deller’s work segways to the next case-study, diving deeper into the issue of traumatic sites, specifically what is needed to resolve repeated traumas that take place upon the same land.
Part 3: In and Out of the Mountain
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[Figure 3]
Between 1981 and 1986, American choreographer Anna Halprin and her husband Lawrence Halprin began a project called Search of Living Myths and Rituals through Dance and the Environment. Throughout their workshops, participants kept drawing images of Mount Tamalpais, the neighboring Mountain which hosted the well-known serial murders of David Carpenter. This trailside killer, who had taken the lives of 7 women along the trails of the mountain had not only “terrified the people in the community – he had defiled, denied, threatened the very heart of the community.”[11] That same year of 1981, the Halprins, joined by a community of workshop participants, staged a performance called In and Out of the Mountain in the theatre of the College of Marin.
“The dancers invoked the spirit of the mountain and enacted the killings. The urgency and realness were intense. Friends and family of the women who had been murdered were in the audience. Someone called the police because they imagined the killer was present. […] The next day witnesses and performers went to the mountain peak and walked down the trails where the killings had taken place.”[12]
It is significant to observe the description of the performance as ritual, and the decision to enact the killings of Mt. Tamalpais.
“The mountain has always exemplified a mythic relationship between the inhabitants of the county and the natural forces at work in the environment. This relationship stretches far back to Miwok times and continues to this day. Now these murders were terrifying the people in Marin and destroying their relationship to the mountain. The need to restore peace to the mountain was strongly felt by people throughout the community.”[13]
Not dissimilar to the re-staging of the Battle of Orgreave, In and Out of the Mountain structurally followed the principles of Constellation Work. The participants had designated a sacred space where they could gather to release the stagnant and threatening energy of the mountain trails. In placing themselves in the shoes of both the women who were murdered as well as the murderer, they exposed the story, including both victims and perpetrator. As Hellinger writes:
“There’s an important law of systemic behavior that needs to be respected: A system is disrupted when one of its members is rejected or excluded from the system. […] Therefore, you have to connect yourself to those who are excluded. Unless you are able to give the perpetrators a place in your heart, you can’t work with the whole system. […] Victim and perpetrator are systemically connected, but often you don’t know in what way.”[14]
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[Figure 4]
Despite the occasional controversy of Hellinger’s writings, his reflections on what is needed to bring balance and healing to a system, that is, primarily the representation of all parties involved, a different layer of understanding can be brought to the morphic/karmic effects of the Halprins’ performance. A few days after the performance of 1981, the serial killer was captured and brought to justice. Many of the participants who visited the mountain trails after the performance had a sense of being able to “reclaim” the mountain. Halprin has refrained from offering explanations as to whether or not the ritual had anything to do with the capturing of the killer, other that naming that they had “performed a prayer and [their] prayer was answered. Why argue about the power of prayer? Rejoice and try prayer again.”[15] For the subsequent 5 years, Halprin and ritual participants would gather at the same time of year to perform other rituals: Return to the Mountain (1982), Run to the Mountain (1984), Circle the Mountain (1985), and then Circle the Earth (1986, ’87, ’88). These various rituals had eventually culminated in a touring performance named Planetary Dance, since then, happening every year, in all parts of the world, hosted by various different communities and organizations. Halprin was visited by 107-year-old Huichol Shaman don Jose a few months after the 1981 performance and had said that “This mountain is one of the most powerful places on Earth. What you did was very important, but for it to be successful you must return to the mountain every year for the next five years.”[16] Which is exactly what Halprin, and her collaborators did. In her writings, Halprin reflects that the real miracle was not the capturing of the killer but rather that the people who had performed the ritual were able to find a meaningful myth with which they could reclaim the mountain. In other words, “they had transformed themselves from victims of violence to creators of peace. It was no less and no more than an act of magic.”[17]
What is important to name in this case-study is the relationship to the specific mountain and mountain trails where the traumatic events had taken place. I conclude with excerpts from a short story by Hellinger, which reveal the dynamics at play between trauma, ritual and site-specificity. One of the guiding principles of CW is the order of belonging, that is, one must acknowledge what belongs to them and what doesn’t. That which does not belong to us, but we carry, must be returned to its rightful place. We can look at this notion of belonging when we revisit a site that was once a battlefield where “the scars of the earth are hidden. Grass has long since grown again, meadow flowers bloom, raspberry bushes are heavy, and their fruit scents the air.”[18] These are the places “where, long ago, painful things occurred. But now the sun is shining, warming the abandoned town. The streets, which once buzzed with life, are calm.”[19]Traveling to this place can evoke all sorts of emotions, pain and love. Perhaps there might be a sense of returning home, of seeing a place that has endured through both life and death, right and wrong and has healed, “releasing tensions long held that now flow away like water into the desert sand.”[20] In this place you are greeted by a guide, who offers the following sentence to you:
“Perhaps you carried something away from here that didn’t belong to you. Perhaps a guilt from someone, or an illness, or a belief, or a feeling that isn’t yours. Perhaps it’s a decision you then made that cause you harm. All these you must leave here where they belong.”[21]
And perhaps this is what In and Out of the Mountain was, the returning of grief, revenge, anger, and loss, through the act of dance to the site of hurt, preventing it from spilling outwards and onwards within the community and into the future. In re-enacting the trauma with the intention to heal, to create community, and to reclaim the trails of Mt. Tamalpais, all parties were placed where they belong, in time and in space.
Part 4: Ghosts & Hosts
![]()
[Figure 5]
A third definition of site-specificity relevant to the enquiry thus far is that of Mike Pearson and Cliff Lucas in the works of their Welsh theatre company Brith Gof. Lucas and Pearson, who created site-specific productions between 1981 and 2004, distinguished the sites where these productions took place as hosts, and the performances or ephemeral architectures created in those sites as ghosts.
“I began to use the term ‘the host and the ghost’ to describe the relationship between place and event. The host site is haunted for a time by a ghost that the theatre-makers create. Like all ghosts it is transparent, and the host can be seen through the ghost. Add into this a third term – the witness, i.e., the audience – and we have a kind of trinity that constitutes the work.”[22]
There is a paradox in many of Brith Gof’s site-specific works, as being both site-specific when created for one particular location, but then soon become site-generic the moment they begin to tour. Cathy Turner highlights this juxtaposition, that is “the suggestion of merging, of relationship, and of dissolving of boundaries.”[23] In their production, Gododdin, Lucas and Pearson create a site-specific theatre production, bearing the same name as the 12th century poem narrating the battle between the Gododdin (the Votadini of the Romans) against the Anglo-Saxons in 6th Century AD. This piece of political theatre was originally staged in a disused Rover car factory in Cardiff, and subsequently toured to a sand quarry in Italy, a disused crane factory in Germany, an empty ice-rink in Friesland and in Tramway in Glasgow.[24]
Perhaps one could draw a parallel between the decline of the Welsh culture and language and the decline of the car factories or other industrial sites, in that way layering the histories of loss, re-use and re-birth through the site-specific theatre. Every time that Gododdin would tour somewhere new, it would bring with it the histories of all the sites it had visited it before, i.e., the hosts, in turn making them into one complex mobile ghost that grows in affect and impact with every disused site that hosts it. In parallel any future event that would take place in any of those sites, the car factory, the sand quarry, etc. would retain traces of Goddodin in their earth or in their sand, in the architectures left behind.
“For Brith Gof, however, creating a deliberate disjunction between site and work has proved a fruitful methodology. To some extent, this distinction has reflected the position of the English immigrant in Wales: the careful distinction between what is ‘of’ the place and what is brought ‘to’ it has been politically important.”[25]
And while Gododdin may not have had a “healing” agenda explicitly, it did have its inception on the land from where the original poem comes from. Again, the production itself could be seen as a form of enactment of this battle 6AD, shedding light onto Welsh cultural history so as not to be forgotten. In performing Gododdin in other sites, an ethos of remembering is created, perhaps haunting to some or healing to others, audience members “discovered themselves within these places”.[26]
![]()
[Figure 6]
Similarly, if we look at In and Out of the Mountain or its subsequent iteration, Planetary Dance, through the lens of hosts and ghosts, a further observation can be made. The performance ritual that took place on Mount Tamalpais (the ghost) brought an intention of healing and justice with it when it occupied the mountain trails (the host). The score for that performance was then made available internationally, creating an arhcetyptal ghost that would be hosted by multiple sites, multiple sites where the intention to heal could be inseminated in the way that ritual is facilitated. Every time that a Planetary Dance happens, it brings with it the history of Mt. Tamalpais, it brings with it the memory of the trauma, but also the possibility of healing. The Planetary Dance is an evolution through repetition of In and Out of the Moutanin, and in that way the site-specific becomes the site-adapative, becomes the site-archetypal. In my practice, I define the archetypal field as the accumulation and layering of stories since time immemorial which are systemically bound to one another. Archetypes thus begin to function very much as fossils of the soul.
![]()
[Figure 7]
Adrian Heathfield writes that “the performing body is often presented as a site of contestation between opposing dynamics; as a passive recipient of inscription by social institutions, cultural discourses, ideologies and orders of power, and as an active agent through which identity and social relation may be tested, re-articulated and remade.”[27]In all examples named in this paper, I would like to propose that the g(hosts) of each performance, this blended hybrid of place and ritual, assume the function of Heathfield’s performing body, that is, the performance as active agent for change, for transformation, for the re-articulation of social, political and historical relations. This g(host) as performing body, constitues not only multiple human bodies and sentient life, but also that which is non-sentient, constructed architectures and time-based scores that create the theatre made of the world and more specifically of the Land. What happens in this instance is not only performance as ethnography, performance as archaeology, performance as choreotopography, performance as architecture, but ultimately performance as healing.
[END]
*This paper was first presented at the Frascari V Symposium, May 27-29, 2021, Online
Works Cited:
Correia, Alice. “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.” Manchester University Press, Visual Culture in Britain, 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2006): 93–112.
Gendlin, Eugene T. Focusing. Random House, 2010.
Halprin, Anna. “Healing The Mountain.” In Context 5 (n.d.).
Halprin, Anna. Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1995.
Heathfield, Adrian. Live: Art and Performance. Tate Publishing, 2004.
Hellinger, Bert, Gunthard Weber, and Hunter Beaumont. Love’s Hidden Symmetry: What Makes Love Work in Relationships. Zeig Tucker & Theisen Publishers, 1998.
Horgan, John. “Scientific Heretic Rupert Sheldrake on Morphic Fields, Psychic Dogs and Other Mysteries.” Scientific American Blog Network. Accessed April 22, 2021. https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/scientific-heretic-rupert-sheldrake-on-morphic-fields-psychic-dogs-and-other-mysteries/.
Mayer, Claude-Hélène, and Rian Viviers. “Constellation Work and Zulu Culture: Theoretical Reflections on Therapeutic and Cultural Concepts.” Journal of Sociology and Social Anthropology 7, no. 2 (April 1, 2016): 101–10. https://doi.org/10.1080/09766634.2016.11885706.
McLucas, Cliff, and Kaye, Nick. “Ten Feet and Three Quarters of an Inch of Theatre.” In Site Specific Art: Performance, Place and Documentation. Routledge, 2000.
“Orgreave Campaigners Call for BBC Strike Coverage Apology.” BBC News, June 18, 2014, sec. Sheffield & South Yorkshire. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-south-yorkshire-27893072.
Pearson, Mike, and Shanks, Michasel. Theatre/Archaeology. Routledge, 2001.
Turner, Cathy. “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance.” New Theatre Quarterly20, no. 4 (2004).
Van Kampenhout, Daan. Images of the Soul. 2nd ed. Germany: Carl Auer Systeme Verlag, 2016.
Images Cited:
Figure 1: The Battle of Orgreave, BBC footage, 1981
Figure 2: The Battle of Orgreave, Jeremy Deller Performance, 2001
Figure 3: In and Out of the Mountain, drawing/score by Anna Halprin, 1980s
Figure 4: In and Out of the Mountain, performance shot, 1981
Figure 5: Gododdin, Brith Gof, performance shot, 1984
Figure 6: Planetary Dance, Anna Halprin
Figure 7: In the Mountain / On the Mountain, drawing/score by Anna Halprin, 1980s
Endnotes:
[1] Eugene T. Gendlin, Focusing (Random House, 2010).
[2] Peter A. Levine, In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness (North Atlantic Books, 2010).
[3] John Horgan, “Scientific Heretic Rupert Sheldrake on Morphic Fields, Psychic Dogs and Other Mysteries,” Scientific American Blog Network, accessed April 22, 2021, https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/scientific-heretic-rupert-sheldrake-on-morphic-fields-psychic-dogs-and-other-mysteries/.
[4] Claude-Hélène Mayer and Rian Viviers, “Constellation Work and Zulu Culture: Theoretical Reflections on Therapeutic and Cultural Concepts,” Journal of Sociology and Social Anthropology 7, no. 2 (April 1, 2016): 101–10, https://doi.org/10.1080/09766634.2016.11885706.
[5] Alice Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave,” Manchester University Press, Visual Culture in Britain, 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2006): 93–112.
[6] “Orgreave Campaigners Call for BBC Strike Coverage Apology,” BBC News, June 18, 2014, sec. Sheffield & South Yorkshire, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-south-yorkshire-27893072.
[7] Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.”
[8] Correia.
[9] Daan Van Kampenhout, Images of the Soul, 2nd ed. (Germany: Carl Auer Systeme Verlag, 2016). 54-55
[10] Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.” 110
[11] Anna Halprin, Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance(Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1995). 230
[12] Halprin. P230
[13] Anna Halprin, “Healing The Mountain,” In Context 5 (n.d.). p57
[14] Bert Hellinger, Gunthard Weber, and Hunter Beaumont, Love’s Hidden Symmetry: What Makes Love Work in Relationships (Zeig Tucker & Theisen Publishers, 1998). P128-130
[15] Halprin,Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. P230
[16] Halprin, “Healing The Mountain.” P57
[17] Halprin,Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. P232
[18] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont, Love’s Hidden Symmetry. P170
[19] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P171
[20] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P172
[21] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P172
[22] Cliff McLucas and Kaye, Nick, “Ten Feet and Three Quarters of an Inch of Theatre,” inSite Specific Art: Performance, Place and Documentation (Routledge, 2000). P128
[23] Cathy Turner, “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance,” New Theatre Quarterly 20, no. 4 (2004). P389
[24] Mike Pearson and Shanks, Michasel, Theatre/Archaeology (Routledge, 2001). P106
[25] Turner, “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance.” 374-376
[26] Turner. P276
[27] Adrian Heathfield, Live: Art and Performance (Tate Publishing, 2004). P62
Sometimes we find ourselves walking into spaces that are unfamiliar, where we have never been before, yet there is a knowing that we can feel. We feel it in our bodies, within our felt sense.
“A felt sense is the body’s sense of a particular problem or situation. A felt sense is not an emotion. We recognize emotions. We know when we are angry, or sad, or glad. A felt sense is something you do not at first recognize—it is vague and murky. It feels meaningful, but not known. It is a body-sense of meaning. When you learn how to focus, you will discover that the body finding its own way provides its own answers to many of your problems.”[1]
We may feel better or worse, as we move towards, through or away from a specific site, an alleyway, a street in a city, an open field with rocks, an open doorway, a broken window or perhaps a building, a theatre, a church, or someone else’s home. We may very well be influenced by the visual semiotics of these spaces that we inhabit in our everyday lives, and that we may understand through our particular un/conscious socio-cultural lens. We may also recognize something that is afoot in the field that surrounds us as we physically enter into these spaces. This eventual recognition of that something other, that may at first be difficult or foggy to verbalize, can often remain invisible to the naked eye. In that instance, we might simply stay with just the knowing and the embodiment of that knowledge as an epistemic sensation. That can and sometimes is enough to offer us the wisdom of choosing whether to stay somewhere, retreat, or keep on moving.
In his seminal book, In an Unspoken Voice, trauma therapist and medical bio-physicist Dr. Peter A. Levine writes:
“William James, a century ago, had argued that a person’s passing states of consciousness create a false sense of a “I” or ego runs the show. Neuroscientist Wegner took this further, adding that the average people’s belief that they even have a self that consciously controls their actions is simply an illusion. Is this a farewell to Freud’s ego and Descartes’ cogito ego sum? Although this new credo, “I think; therefore, I am,” was an important start to freeing people from the rigidity o church doctrine, it’s in great need of revision. Today’s credo should be more like, “I prepare to move, I act, I sense, I feel, I perceive, I reflect, I think and therefore I am.”[2]
I sense, therefore I am. This phrase builds upon what Eugene T. Gendlin wrote in relation to the felt sense, in his book Focusing (Gendlin 1978), published some 30 years earlier. Both Levine and Gendlin invite the reader to reconsider that inner authority within the body, based on which one make decisions in life. It is that place from within that may guide one to choose to act from or react to. Some others may call this the gut feeling, or intuition, or even empathy, sixth-sense, or perhaps another term: morphic resonance. In an interview about his book, Morphic Resonance: The Nature of Formative Causation (1982), theoretical biologist Rupert Sheldrake says:
“Morphic resonance is the influence of previous structures of activity on subsequent similar structures of activity organized by morphic fields. It enables memories to pass across both space and time from the past. The greater the similarity, the greater the influence of morphic resonance. What this means is that all self-organizing systems, such as molecules, crystals, cells, plants, animals and animal societies, have a collective memory on which each individual draws and to which it contributes. In its most general sense this hypothesis implies that the so-called laws of nature are more like habits.”[3]
I believe site specific performance works in a similar way. Sheldrake speaks of sites that harbor these fields as fields of memory, and those sites that have had traumatic histories, are sites with field disturbances that can be felt, sensed in the body. The very idea that information can be passed through a non-linear and spatial dimension that does not adhere to chronological and tactile matter, has been one of the epistemological principles of psychotherapist Bert Hellinger’s famous spiritual-psychotherapeutic practice called Family Systemic Constellations, or sometimes referred to as Constellation Work (CW).
CW was first introduced in Germany by Bert Hellinger in the 1970s (Cohen 2006). In Germany, it was originally a method to address the traumatic effects of World War II (Ulsamer 2005). Since the 1980s, CW has grown into an internationally recognised movement (Anderson and Carnabucci 2009) and has been defined as an intergenerational healing (Payne 2005), peace building (Cohen 2009) and reconciliation process (Hellinger 2003).[4]
CW is other-worldly. If you have ever experienced one you will know that something extraordinary happens in this particular moment in time-space when twenty odd strangers gather in a circle to create sanctuary for one another, processing difficult trauma, calling upon ghosts, and embodying each other’s’ family, systemic and ancestral stories. They attempt to introduce the flow of life back into a system that might be broken, abandoned, or sick. It is a moment in material chronological time (i.e., Chronos time) when we can feel the effects of change at the speed of light (i.e., Kairos time). Hence once can feel within their body the effects of morphic resonance, of connecting with ancestors through felt sense when past, present and future co-exist in one environment and the bodies in that environment are moved from within without knowing why or how. And this, is merely one exploration of the possibilities of phenomenology.
The main objective of this paper is to explore the causal effects of healing, transformation and change of performances that take place or that are purposefully designed to take place on sites of historical, social and political contestation or trauma. Specifically, I look at these through the lens of the morphic field of resonance and the principles of Constellation Work.
Part 2: The Battle of Orgreave
[Figure 1]In 2001, British artist Jeremy Deller directed and staged the re-creation of the Battle of Orgreave, a violent confrontation that took place on 18 June 1984 between the miners of Orgreave and the South Yorkshire police force.
“The Battle of Orgreave encompassed the twin facets of heritage culture: the recreation of past events as part of an educational-historical methodology and the transformation of industrial heritage into a spectator experience. Since the 1980s there has been a shift away from conceptions of heritage as being solely concerned with ancient or royal sites to reflect an increased interest in vernacular and recent twentieth-century culture; ordinary, everyday or working-class culture is now seized upon and celebrated.” [5]
In the documentary bearing the same name, The Battle of Orgreave, released in 2001, the viewer witnesses a series of rehearsals and interviews of those that took part in the re-enactment of the battle. Deller discusses his intentions and fascinations with the battle, and also the unresolved feelings of having watched the protests on television in 1984, which had depicted the miners taking first-action against the police. It has been reported by several witnesses at the time that the televised coverage by the BBC chose to playback the footage from the site in a somewhat reconstructed non-chronological order, portraying the miners as undertaking first actions of violence. 30 years later, a spokesman for the BBC said: “Thirty years on, it is difficult to reach definitive conclusions, but our investigations have uncovered no evidence of any deliberate attempt to mislead viewers in the coverage of the Battle of Orgreave.”[6]
Jeremy Deller’s “staging a re-enactment of the 1984 conflict can be conceived as “performance art dealing with socio-political concerns which challenge the biased histories of the dominant power.”[7]
And so, through the re-enactment of 2001, the chronology of events was set right, or as close to the witnesses’ and miners’ memory as possible, i.e., depicting the police entering into violence before the miners taking action. Some of the collaborating participants and volunteers in the re-enactment included original members of the mining community who participated in the 1984 strike, who had decided to step into the role of the police in the re-enactment. This paints a more intricate picture regarding the power dynamics and play of identity/role-swapping that emerged from the performative space facilitated by Deller. In a later interview, Deller was quoted stating that he was “surprised people said it was a healing experience’.”[8]
[Figure 2]
And that is a key question; why was it a healing experience for the community at Orgreave, for the miners, for the members of the public involved? It is important to consider the location where the re-enactment took place, that is, right on and next to the grounds of the original strike in 1984. Situating the performance in the same geographical coordinates where the violence took place, will undoubtedly have re-surfaced memories for those who were present at both events. With the embodied memory of what happened 30 years earlier, the bodies in that space would have been confronted with something visceral, familiar, and paradoxical. Peter Levine calls the accessing of trauma memory, a piece of life-force energy that got frozen in the body due to an incomplete response to orient towards danger or successfully escape a threat. So how would those miners have discharged or thawed frozen energy, thirty years on? What would have allowed for movement to happen, renegotiating the embodied trauma of a battle? This is where we can understand the healing potential of the re-enactment through the phenomenon of timelessness that occurs in both Constellation Work and Somatic Experiencing.
In the re-enactment of the Battle of Orgreave, there were those miners representing themselves, just 30 years older, there were those miners representing the police, and then there were those volunteers representing the miners, who possibly hadn’t even been born in 1984. This experience begins to collide time into one location, where past and present begin to blur. As some of the reports from the re-enactment state. Systemic Ritual facilitator Daan van Kampenhout describes this moment of time collision as follows:
“When the linear experience of time is broken, the flow of the stories we constantly tell ourselves in our minds is disrupted…When the inner stories about ourselves and others have lost their grip on our attention, what we start to feel is the actual experience of the energy linked to these stories, the energy that is their essence…Experiencing timelessness, and in this way opening up for more essential layers of experience is a key factor in healing…”[9]
The essence of the story at hand was one of victim-perpetrator dynamics and of historical events being placed in the right chronological order through a performative re-enactment. Some of the founding principles of Hellinger’s Constellation Work are that in order to find healing we need to be in the right place, and also in the right time. In being able to set the sequence of events straight, both through a dialogical process and through the performance itself, the participants offered a movement of healing towards the harm that was caused in the misrepresentation of the mining community in 1984. In doing so, “The Battle of Orgreave opposed a heritage system in which the past is remembered through sanitized memories. Orgreave was not the past seen from a safe distance, but rather history presented as unfinished business.”[10]
Bert Hellinger once said that “everything we hate and we shun, we engage with and become”, so the danger in “living a life based on being a victim is one in which you can unconsciously live out being the perpetrator”. In a constellation process, when we are able to step into the shoes of that essence and energy that is so diametrically opposed to our inner story and truth, we can attempt to “give peace to the system”. Perhaps this is what happened with those miners that chose to step into the shoes of the police force, reclaiming their identity and agency through the discharging of unresolved energy frozen in the shape of traumatic memories of the harm done to them 30 years earlier through this quasi-shamanic experience. One can thus see the way in which The Battle of Orgreave was very much a Systemic Constellation being played out on a large scale, colliding time periods in order to bring peace to contested political agendas. The reversal of roles that took place in Deller’s work segways to the next case-study, diving deeper into the issue of traumatic sites, specifically what is needed to resolve repeated traumas that take place upon the same land.
Part 3: In and Out of the Mountain
[Figure 3]
Between 1981 and 1986, American choreographer Anna Halprin and her husband Lawrence Halprin began a project called Search of Living Myths and Rituals through Dance and the Environment. Throughout their workshops, participants kept drawing images of Mount Tamalpais, the neighboring Mountain which hosted the well-known serial murders of David Carpenter. This trailside killer, who had taken the lives of 7 women along the trails of the mountain had not only “terrified the people in the community – he had defiled, denied, threatened the very heart of the community.”[11] That same year of 1981, the Halprins, joined by a community of workshop participants, staged a performance called In and Out of the Mountain in the theatre of the College of Marin.
“The dancers invoked the spirit of the mountain and enacted the killings. The urgency and realness were intense. Friends and family of the women who had been murdered were in the audience. Someone called the police because they imagined the killer was present. […] The next day witnesses and performers went to the mountain peak and walked down the trails where the killings had taken place.”[12]
It is significant to observe the description of the performance as ritual, and the decision to enact the killings of Mt. Tamalpais.
“The mountain has always exemplified a mythic relationship between the inhabitants of the county and the natural forces at work in the environment. This relationship stretches far back to Miwok times and continues to this day. Now these murders were terrifying the people in Marin and destroying their relationship to the mountain. The need to restore peace to the mountain was strongly felt by people throughout the community.”[13]
Not dissimilar to the re-staging of the Battle of Orgreave, In and Out of the Mountain structurally followed the principles of Constellation Work. The participants had designated a sacred space where they could gather to release the stagnant and threatening energy of the mountain trails. In placing themselves in the shoes of both the women who were murdered as well as the murderer, they exposed the story, including both victims and perpetrator. As Hellinger writes:
“There’s an important law of systemic behavior that needs to be respected: A system is disrupted when one of its members is rejected or excluded from the system. […] Therefore, you have to connect yourself to those who are excluded. Unless you are able to give the perpetrators a place in your heart, you can’t work with the whole system. […] Victim and perpetrator are systemically connected, but often you don’t know in what way.”[14]
[Figure 4]
Despite the occasional controversy of Hellinger’s writings, his reflections on what is needed to bring balance and healing to a system, that is, primarily the representation of all parties involved, a different layer of understanding can be brought to the morphic/karmic effects of the Halprins’ performance. A few days after the performance of 1981, the serial killer was captured and brought to justice. Many of the participants who visited the mountain trails after the performance had a sense of being able to “reclaim” the mountain. Halprin has refrained from offering explanations as to whether or not the ritual had anything to do with the capturing of the killer, other that naming that they had “performed a prayer and [their] prayer was answered. Why argue about the power of prayer? Rejoice and try prayer again.”[15] For the subsequent 5 years, Halprin and ritual participants would gather at the same time of year to perform other rituals: Return to the Mountain (1982), Run to the Mountain (1984), Circle the Mountain (1985), and then Circle the Earth (1986, ’87, ’88). These various rituals had eventually culminated in a touring performance named Planetary Dance, since then, happening every year, in all parts of the world, hosted by various different communities and organizations. Halprin was visited by 107-year-old Huichol Shaman don Jose a few months after the 1981 performance and had said that “This mountain is one of the most powerful places on Earth. What you did was very important, but for it to be successful you must return to the mountain every year for the next five years.”[16] Which is exactly what Halprin, and her collaborators did. In her writings, Halprin reflects that the real miracle was not the capturing of the killer but rather that the people who had performed the ritual were able to find a meaningful myth with which they could reclaim the mountain. In other words, “they had transformed themselves from victims of violence to creators of peace. It was no less and no more than an act of magic.”[17]
What is important to name in this case-study is the relationship to the specific mountain and mountain trails where the traumatic events had taken place. I conclude with excerpts from a short story by Hellinger, which reveal the dynamics at play between trauma, ritual and site-specificity. One of the guiding principles of CW is the order of belonging, that is, one must acknowledge what belongs to them and what doesn’t. That which does not belong to us, but we carry, must be returned to its rightful place. We can look at this notion of belonging when we revisit a site that was once a battlefield where “the scars of the earth are hidden. Grass has long since grown again, meadow flowers bloom, raspberry bushes are heavy, and their fruit scents the air.”[18] These are the places “where, long ago, painful things occurred. But now the sun is shining, warming the abandoned town. The streets, which once buzzed with life, are calm.”[19]Traveling to this place can evoke all sorts of emotions, pain and love. Perhaps there might be a sense of returning home, of seeing a place that has endured through both life and death, right and wrong and has healed, “releasing tensions long held that now flow away like water into the desert sand.”[20] In this place you are greeted by a guide, who offers the following sentence to you:
“Perhaps you carried something away from here that didn’t belong to you. Perhaps a guilt from someone, or an illness, or a belief, or a feeling that isn’t yours. Perhaps it’s a decision you then made that cause you harm. All these you must leave here where they belong.”[21]
And perhaps this is what In and Out of the Mountain was, the returning of grief, revenge, anger, and loss, through the act of dance to the site of hurt, preventing it from spilling outwards and onwards within the community and into the future. In re-enacting the trauma with the intention to heal, to create community, and to reclaim the trails of Mt. Tamalpais, all parties were placed where they belong, in time and in space.
Part 4: Ghosts & Hosts
[Figure 5]
A third definition of site-specificity relevant to the enquiry thus far is that of Mike Pearson and Cliff Lucas in the works of their Welsh theatre company Brith Gof. Lucas and Pearson, who created site-specific productions between 1981 and 2004, distinguished the sites where these productions took place as hosts, and the performances or ephemeral architectures created in those sites as ghosts.
“I began to use the term ‘the host and the ghost’ to describe the relationship between place and event. The host site is haunted for a time by a ghost that the theatre-makers create. Like all ghosts it is transparent, and the host can be seen through the ghost. Add into this a third term – the witness, i.e., the audience – and we have a kind of trinity that constitutes the work.”[22]
There is a paradox in many of Brith Gof’s site-specific works, as being both site-specific when created for one particular location, but then soon become site-generic the moment they begin to tour. Cathy Turner highlights this juxtaposition, that is “the suggestion of merging, of relationship, and of dissolving of boundaries.”[23] In their production, Gododdin, Lucas and Pearson create a site-specific theatre production, bearing the same name as the 12th century poem narrating the battle between the Gododdin (the Votadini of the Romans) against the Anglo-Saxons in 6th Century AD. This piece of political theatre was originally staged in a disused Rover car factory in Cardiff, and subsequently toured to a sand quarry in Italy, a disused crane factory in Germany, an empty ice-rink in Friesland and in Tramway in Glasgow.[24]
Perhaps one could draw a parallel between the decline of the Welsh culture and language and the decline of the car factories or other industrial sites, in that way layering the histories of loss, re-use and re-birth through the site-specific theatre. Every time that Gododdin would tour somewhere new, it would bring with it the histories of all the sites it had visited it before, i.e., the hosts, in turn making them into one complex mobile ghost that grows in affect and impact with every disused site that hosts it. In parallel any future event that would take place in any of those sites, the car factory, the sand quarry, etc. would retain traces of Goddodin in their earth or in their sand, in the architectures left behind.
“For Brith Gof, however, creating a deliberate disjunction between site and work has proved a fruitful methodology. To some extent, this distinction has reflected the position of the English immigrant in Wales: the careful distinction between what is ‘of’ the place and what is brought ‘to’ it has been politically important.”[25]
And while Gododdin may not have had a “healing” agenda explicitly, it did have its inception on the land from where the original poem comes from. Again, the production itself could be seen as a form of enactment of this battle 6AD, shedding light onto Welsh cultural history so as not to be forgotten. In performing Gododdin in other sites, an ethos of remembering is created, perhaps haunting to some or healing to others, audience members “discovered themselves within these places”.[26]
[Figure 6]
Similarly, if we look at In and Out of the Mountain or its subsequent iteration, Planetary Dance, through the lens of hosts and ghosts, a further observation can be made. The performance ritual that took place on Mount Tamalpais (the ghost) brought an intention of healing and justice with it when it occupied the mountain trails (the host). The score for that performance was then made available internationally, creating an arhcetyptal ghost that would be hosted by multiple sites, multiple sites where the intention to heal could be inseminated in the way that ritual is facilitated. Every time that a Planetary Dance happens, it brings with it the history of Mt. Tamalpais, it brings with it the memory of the trauma, but also the possibility of healing. The Planetary Dance is an evolution through repetition of In and Out of the Moutanin, and in that way the site-specific becomes the site-adapative, becomes the site-archetypal. In my practice, I define the archetypal field as the accumulation and layering of stories since time immemorial which are systemically bound to one another. Archetypes thus begin to function very much as fossils of the soul.
[Figure 7]
Adrian Heathfield writes that “the performing body is often presented as a site of contestation between opposing dynamics; as a passive recipient of inscription by social institutions, cultural discourses, ideologies and orders of power, and as an active agent through which identity and social relation may be tested, re-articulated and remade.”[27]In all examples named in this paper, I would like to propose that the g(hosts) of each performance, this blended hybrid of place and ritual, assume the function of Heathfield’s performing body, that is, the performance as active agent for change, for transformation, for the re-articulation of social, political and historical relations. This g(host) as performing body, constitues not only multiple human bodies and sentient life, but also that which is non-sentient, constructed architectures and time-based scores that create the theatre made of the world and more specifically of the Land. What happens in this instance is not only performance as ethnography, performance as archaeology, performance as choreotopography, performance as architecture, but ultimately performance as healing.
[END]
*This paper was first presented at the Frascari V Symposium, May 27-29, 2021, Online
Works Cited:
Correia, Alice. “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.” Manchester University Press, Visual Culture in Britain, 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2006): 93–112.
Gendlin, Eugene T. Focusing. Random House, 2010.
Halprin, Anna. “Healing The Mountain.” In Context 5 (n.d.).
Halprin, Anna. Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1995.
Heathfield, Adrian. Live: Art and Performance. Tate Publishing, 2004.
Hellinger, Bert, Gunthard Weber, and Hunter Beaumont. Love’s Hidden Symmetry: What Makes Love Work in Relationships. Zeig Tucker & Theisen Publishers, 1998.
Horgan, John. “Scientific Heretic Rupert Sheldrake on Morphic Fields, Psychic Dogs and Other Mysteries.” Scientific American Blog Network. Accessed April 22, 2021. https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/scientific-heretic-rupert-sheldrake-on-morphic-fields-psychic-dogs-and-other-mysteries/.
Mayer, Claude-Hélène, and Rian Viviers. “Constellation Work and Zulu Culture: Theoretical Reflections on Therapeutic and Cultural Concepts.” Journal of Sociology and Social Anthropology 7, no. 2 (April 1, 2016): 101–10. https://doi.org/10.1080/09766634.2016.11885706.
McLucas, Cliff, and Kaye, Nick. “Ten Feet and Three Quarters of an Inch of Theatre.” In Site Specific Art: Performance, Place and Documentation. Routledge, 2000.
“Orgreave Campaigners Call for BBC Strike Coverage Apology.” BBC News, June 18, 2014, sec. Sheffield & South Yorkshire. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-south-yorkshire-27893072.
Pearson, Mike, and Shanks, Michasel. Theatre/Archaeology. Routledge, 2001.
Turner, Cathy. “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance.” New Theatre Quarterly20, no. 4 (2004).
Van Kampenhout, Daan. Images of the Soul. 2nd ed. Germany: Carl Auer Systeme Verlag, 2016.
Images Cited:
Figure 1: The Battle of Orgreave, BBC footage, 1981
Figure 2: The Battle of Orgreave, Jeremy Deller Performance, 2001
Figure 3: In and Out of the Mountain, drawing/score by Anna Halprin, 1980s
Figure 4: In and Out of the Mountain, performance shot, 1981
Figure 5: Gododdin, Brith Gof, performance shot, 1984
Figure 6: Planetary Dance, Anna Halprin
Figure 7: In the Mountain / On the Mountain, drawing/score by Anna Halprin, 1980s
Endnotes:
[1] Eugene T. Gendlin, Focusing (Random House, 2010).
[2] Peter A. Levine, In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness (North Atlantic Books, 2010).
[3] John Horgan, “Scientific Heretic Rupert Sheldrake on Morphic Fields, Psychic Dogs and Other Mysteries,” Scientific American Blog Network, accessed April 22, 2021, https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/scientific-heretic-rupert-sheldrake-on-morphic-fields-psychic-dogs-and-other-mysteries/.
[4] Claude-Hélène Mayer and Rian Viviers, “Constellation Work and Zulu Culture: Theoretical Reflections on Therapeutic and Cultural Concepts,” Journal of Sociology and Social Anthropology 7, no. 2 (April 1, 2016): 101–10, https://doi.org/10.1080/09766634.2016.11885706.
[5] Alice Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave,” Manchester University Press, Visual Culture in Britain, 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2006): 93–112.
[6] “Orgreave Campaigners Call for BBC Strike Coverage Apology,” BBC News, June 18, 2014, sec. Sheffield & South Yorkshire, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-south-yorkshire-27893072.
[7] Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.”
[8] Correia.
[9] Daan Van Kampenhout, Images of the Soul, 2nd ed. (Germany: Carl Auer Systeme Verlag, 2016). 54-55
[10] Correia, “Interpreting Jeremy Deller’s The Battle of Orgreave.” 110
[11] Anna Halprin, Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance(Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1995). 230
[12] Halprin. P230
[13] Anna Halprin, “Healing The Mountain,” In Context 5 (n.d.). p57
[14] Bert Hellinger, Gunthard Weber, and Hunter Beaumont, Love’s Hidden Symmetry: What Makes Love Work in Relationships (Zeig Tucker & Theisen Publishers, 1998). P128-130
[15] Halprin,Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. P230
[16] Halprin, “Healing The Mountain.” P57
[17] Halprin,Moving Toward Life: Five Decades of Transformational Dance. P232
[18] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont, Love’s Hidden Symmetry. P170
[19] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P171
[20] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P172
[21] Hellinger, Weber, and Beaumont. P172
[22] Cliff McLucas and Kaye, Nick, “Ten Feet and Three Quarters of an Inch of Theatre,” inSite Specific Art: Performance, Place and Documentation (Routledge, 2000). P128
[23] Cathy Turner, “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance,” New Theatre Quarterly 20, no. 4 (2004). P389
[24] Mike Pearson and Shanks, Michasel, Theatre/Archaeology (Routledge, 2001). P106
[25] Turner, “Palimpsest or Potential Space? Finding a Vocabulary for Site-Specific Performance.” 374-376
[26] Turner. P276
[27] Adrian Heathfield, Live: Art and Performance (Tate Publishing, 2004). P62