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The study of bodies in motion
研究天体的运动
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IS THERE a yawning gap between the arts and the sciences? C.P. Snow, a physicist and novelist, certainly thought so when he coined the phrase “two cultures” back in 1959, and spoke gloomily of the “gulf of mutual incomprehension” between them. But are they truly incompatible?
“Performing Medicine”, a new series of performances, workshops and lectures, considers the question but does not claim to answer it. Organized by Suzy Willson, a British theatre director (pictured below), the season centers on the theme of anatomy—what we know about it, how we treat it and whether medical practices can gain anything from the arts. Taking place in venues as diverse as Sadler’s Wells and the Anatomy theatre of King’s College, London, the season intends to bring together audiences and practitioners of various disciplines into some form of conversation. When "Performing Medicine” had its first outing in 2008, Ms Willson explains the “themes were much more general: power, ways of seeing, human rights”. The more specialized theme of anatomy offers a better way to unify a complicated subject, and has encouraged artists to create lyrical and haunting hours of performances.
Ms Willson, who co-founded the theatre company The Clod Ensemble with Paul Clark, a conductor, began this ambitious project after training medical students in basic performance skills around six years ago. But it is not that she wants “doctors to be all-singing, all-dancing health workers,” she says. Rather, Ms Willson argues that medical students can learn from the type of training she herself received at the Jacques Lecoq school in Paris, which is famous for its emphasis on mime and what is often described as “physical theatre.”
It is an intriguing idea. Writing about the value of the arts in medical training in the journal the Lancet in 2006, Ms Willson observed that medical students “do things to other people’s bodies rather than gathering an awareness of their own.” So too do audience members witness other bodies at a remove from their own. The performance that launched the season—the Clod Ensemble’s own “An Anatomie in Four Quarters”—was an effort to blur this divide. The show managed to include the audience, all 400 members, and had everyone move until ultimately they joined the dancers on stage.
Such a bold and eccentric approach to performance characterizes the work of Ms Willson’s Clod Ensemble, whose previous projects include a series of identical “Red Ladies” actors trawling across London, or the piece “Under Glass”, where performers could be seen in large-scale test tubes or jam jars. Ms Willson’s background in experimental theatre means the strongest aspects of “Performing Medicine” are the theatrical woq�ky"http://kaoyan.koolearn.com/zhuanshuo/mt/" target="_blank">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"s performance, “I’m not sure how much you’ll learn about the human body, but you’ll learn that you have one.” As I found myself alternating between delight and squirms of horror, I found that this was accurate.
But speaking with two medical students from UCL in the audience of “Anatomy Lessons” gave me hope. Taking pains to separate themselves from other students—they were different, by virtue of being in a theatre that evening that didn’t have an operating table in it—they both seemed enthused by the night’s performances. “It is good to see something we learn about being made entertaining,” one of them said. It is hard to say whether or not that’s enough to bridge the gulf C.P. Snow spoke of. But it’s a start. |
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