This book is about science in theatre and performance. It explores how theatre and performance engage with emerging scientific themes from artificial intelligence to genetics and climate change. The book covers a wide range of performance forms from the spectacle of the Paralympics Opening Ceremony to Broadway musicals, from experimental contemporary performance and opera to educational theatre, Somali poetic drama and grime videos. It features work by pioneering companies including Gob Squad, Headlong Theatre and Theatre of Debate as well as offering fresh analysis of global blockbusters such as Wicked and Urinetown. The book offers detailed description and analysis of theatre and performance practices as well as broader commentary on the politics of theatre as public engagement with science. It documents important examples of collaborative practice with extended discussion of the Theatre of Debate process developed by Y Touring theatre company, exploration of bilingual theatre-making in East London and an account of how grime MCs and dermatologists ended up making a film together in Birmingham. The interdisciplinary approach draws on contemporary research in theatre and performance studies in combination with key ideas from science studies. It shows how theatre can offer important perspectives on what the philosopher of science Isabelle Stengers has called ‘cosmopolitics’. The book argues that theatre can flatten knowledge hierarchies and hold together different ways of knowing.
Art in time of war:
towards a contemporary aesthetic
In times of war
In September 1914 an agonised Hermann Hesse writes of how war is destroying the
foundations of Europe’s precious cultural heritage, and thereby the future of civilisation itself. Hesse stands proudly for what he calls a ‘supranational’ tradition of human
culture, intrinsic to which are ideals essentially humanitarian: an ‘international world
of thought, of inner freedom, of intellectual conscience’ and a belief in ‘an artistic
beauty cutting across national boundaries’.1
or aesthetic anti-war feeling –
reactions that, as we will see, were as valid and real as any of a religious or
political nature. I felt it was time to set the record straight.
Very occasionally, this humanistic anti-war feeling has been noted in ‘official’ studies. In his Pacifism in Britain 1914–1945: The Defining of a Faith, the
historian Martin Ceadel singles out what he terms ‘humanitarian pacifism’ as a
valid form of anti-war feeling, stating that it is ‘no less a dogma’ than religious
or political pacifism. However, in Ceadel’s book, humanitarian pacifism is
founded on and generating both accord and contention.
The connection between the former colony and colonial power is one
that has always been complex and it is not our intention here to track its
history. The aim of this collection of essays is, rather, to consider a series
of cultural and literary relationships that took place across the Atlantic
(and often despite it). These suggest that, in cultural terms at least, the
relationship between Britain and the United States has been a particularly
productive one, whether in antagonism or amity. The eleven essays in this
to the destructive ‘fiery conviction’ of
the war years. In addition, Russell’s concerns were echoed, often independently,
by other individuals, whether celebrated or obscure.
The ground was being laid for the organised voice of historian Martin Ceadel’s
‘humanitarian pacifism’ of the 1920s and 1930s.16 It is clear that aesthetic and
A war of individuals
humanistic anti-war feeling was not simply an inter-war ‘innovation’, but existed much earlier during the actual conflict and emanated from differing sources
on an individual basis in its expression.
Lesbian citizenship and filmmaking in Sweden in the 1970s
(1984) [‘Investigation about the situation of homosexuals in society’], would
put homosexuality on the official political agenda as a legitimate social
and civil rights issue in Sweden, paving the way for cohabitation, anti-
discrimination, parental and marital rights during the following decades.
The two rare lesbian films examined in this chapter, largely forgotten and
overlooked in Swedish film history as well as in feminist and queer historiography, anticipate these crucial shifts in the official medical, legal and
social understanding of homosexuality in Sweden
Translatina world-making in The Salt Mines and Wildness
. (1996). Reel to Real: Race, Sex, and Class at the Movies. New York: Routledge.
Jelača, D. (2016). ‘Gendered visions in As If I Am Not There and in The Land of Blood
and Honey: Female precarity, the humanitarian gaze and the politics of situated
knowledge’, Jump Cut, 57.
Juhasz, A. (1999). ‘They said we were trying to show reality –all I want to show is
my video: The politics of the realist feminist documentary’, in J. Gaines and M.
Renov (eds), Collecting Visible Evidence. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, pp. 190–215.
Keegan, C. M. (2016). ‘History
Syrian displacement and care in contemporary Beirut
Ella Parry- Davies
infrastructures of care that seek to work against this precarity. I use the term ‘infrastructure’ after AbdouMaliq Simone, whose attention to ‘people as infrastructure’ denotes intersubjective and complex ‘combinations of objects, spaces, persons, and practices, […] providing for and reproducing life in the city’ ( 2004 : 408). I trace a disciplinary history in which migration has been celebrated as a metaphor for transgression and examine the ways in which apprehending the images instead through an ‘aesthetics of care’ (Thompson, 2015 ) might defamiliarise these tropes. A
William Rawley, Bacon’s secretary
and editor, which suggests that Bacon’s original intention was ‘to
have composed a frame of Laws, or the best state or mould of a
commonwealth’,6 and that, as Rawley notes at the end, ‘The rest
was not perfected’ (488). However, some critics consider the New
Atlantis’s apparent fragmentariness to be part of its overall
design:7 its identity lies between part and whole. Significantly in
this regard, Bacon’s fable is appended to the much larger work of
natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, which comprises a compendium
of hundreds of
desire for Valentine. But desire he now
almost knows it is. His conscious control of himself is being challenged
by his presence at the front and the fragmenting effects of that existence. It is also being challenged by a defensive and grudging
acknowledgement of the psychological developments of the time (it is
undoubtedly significant here that his wife, Sylvia, pinned her ‘faith’ to
Freud (p. 37)); he is indirectly rethinking his history, and his psychological history at that.16 Learning, visibly, he is being pushed to give
tentative, linguistic life to concepts that