Inbox Theatre

MAILBOX PERFORMANCES: 1-15 OCTOBER 2020
Sydney 📮 Tokyo 📮 Shanghai
Hand to hand connection in the digital world. Embodiment as resistance to capitalism.

‘Inbox Theatre’ was a Fluxus/Situationist-like performance instigated in October 2020, during the international Covid-19 pandemic, by a group of University of Sydney Performance Studies students Dharna Chhibbar, Ira Ferris, George McMillan, Kyo Nakamura, and Yuan Xue.

The project took place in Sydney, Tokyo, and Shanghai and consisted of fifty hand-written scores, or what Liz Kotz terms “language-based events” (Kotz 2001, p82), delivered to the mailboxes of randomly picked strangers who by chance became the performance participants.

The main premise of the project was to distribute kindness, wellbeing, and physical connection in the time of pandemic, social distancing, digitalisation, and ever-increasing fear of the ‘other’.

INSTAGRAM: @inboxtheatre

KINDNESS IS/AS RADICAL

Conscious of the hostility that the world was cloaked in, the ‘Inbox Theatre’ instigators resolved to create a counterbalancing action; a theatre of kindness.

“In thinking about the performance we would devise, we contemplated the inherent responsibility that we, as performers, have when ‘messing up’ with peoples’ minds and feelings, and the consequences of those feelings. The question that arose was what kind of society we want to build, what kind of values we want to propagate. We felt that in the world where hostility is on the increase and people are constantly feeling stressed and wary, distribution of kindness is our moral responsibility. Rather than tricking people with pranks, we decided to approach strangers with well-intended messages and create situations that would encourage them to perform acts of (self)care. Sadly, it was this act of kindness that appeared to us as radically transgressive.”

PHOTO: mailbox in Sydney, Erskineville area

Most of the scores that were mail-dropped to the strangers were sensory-awareness tasks focused on bringing the receivers in contact with their bodies and their physical surroundings. This too was radical because turning back to the body was a way to resist capitalism which thrives from desensitisation, from the supremacy of rational intellect over experiencing body. Focus on the body, thus, challenged the robotisation that was on the rise as a consequence of the unprecedented digitalisation of everyday life. What is more, establishing a physical (hand-to-hand) rather than a screen-based contact was extremely unusual at the time when people found it natural to connect via online platforms such as zoom and Facebook.

“Inbox Theatre was a revolt against online connections. Rather than seeking connections with our fellow citizens through screen-based technology, we decided to connect on a more tactile level. Our notes were handwritten, delivered physically by us into the hands (via mailboxes) of randomly selected strangers, who by mere chance became performance participants. The scale of the project was small. Each of us delivered only ten letters, making it a total of fifty. At one point we contemplated whether the messages of kindness should be spread more publicly, via production of posters or graffiti, but we opted for a more intimate, less spectacular scale. It was important to us that the notes feel personally addressed; a sense of connection thus increased.”

PHOTO: mailbox in Shanghai

Despite the good intent of their action, the instigators felt a sense of danger, fear, and thrill while delivering the letters. They were worried they might be caught and met with scorn and suspicion rather than curiosity and trust. ‘No Junk Mail’ signs that covered most of the mailboxes (in Sydney) highlighted the sensation of ‘doing something problematic’ while also bringing up the question: what is deemed as junk and what as of value in our society.

“Even though we were delivering well-intended messages, we felt an acute sense of anxiety whilst placing the letters into strangers’ mailboxes. When people looked at us, rather than assuming that they are just curious, we immediately feared we might be in trouble. This reaction highlighted the general sentiment of our times which are clouded in isolation and animosity, and where everyone is on constant watch.”

PHOTO: mailbox in Sydney, Glenbrook area

The unsettling sense of potential danger of their action was also related to the aforementioned responsibility the instigators felt for ‘messing up’ with peoples’ minds.

“It was not only us who were anonymous to them, but it was them who were also anonymous to us. We did not know the context in which the notes would be received and we only hoped that the note would not make them sad, lonely, etc. Return to the body, the wellbeing, and a connection via the act of kindness can, unfortunately, also be highly dangerous.”

PHOTO: mailbox in Sydney, Glenbrook area

This sense of responsibility and the overall intention not to be offensive, frightening, or make fun of, impacted on the choice of words the instigators decided to use and this choice, as they soon discovered, was fairly limited. What became apparent was that in this day and age, when people’s perception is clouded by suspicion and hyper-vigilance, so many messages could be mistaken as ill intended or seen as punitive. Kyo Nakamura who was delivering messages in Tokyo and chose to do this on cloudy days when there were less people around, said she was putting much attention on how people may interpret the message.

”If I were them I am going to be a little scared in the sense I often try to read between the lines of every single word from the stranger's letter. If I were them I think someone may be stalking, or if I notice that not only me but some others have a letter, I am going to be so nervous. I even feared if someone actually called the police and tried to find who did this. Some of the photos I took are so blurry because I just tried not to stay long in front of their houses. As per the content of the score, I tried to write as carefully as possible to avoid misunderstandings - even if it's kind, a letter from a stranger is threatening. For instance, I was planning to write ‘Notice the sound of the bell in the shrine at 6 o'clock’ because in the neighbourhood we have shrines, but I didn't since I didn't want to be mistaken for religious solicitation. Similarly, I did not put in the words which could be related to religion such as ‘thank’, ‘meditation’, ‘yoga’, and ‘love’. I also chose not to put in a massage ‘Take a bath 15mins more than usual" because I didn't want people to think someone is watching them.”
PHOTO: mailbox in Tokyo

For similar reasons, to avoid causing worry to the receivers of the anonymous note, Dharna Chhibbar, a Sydney-based instigator, decided to draw small flowers on each of the notes.

Darna 2.png — “Like Kyo, I was worried that someone might misinterpret my intentions and think I was stalking, and they might try and track me down or confront me about the notes. I was worried that finding a strange, unfamiliar and ominous piece of paper could worry the receiver. So, I decided to paint a tiny picture of a pink flower on each of my pieces so that it would not resemble anything sinister like a threat from the mafia.”

INTIMATE, LANGUAGE-BASED EVENTS

The ‘Inbox Theatre’ took its inspiration from Fluxus and Situationist International movements. Short mundane instructions were reminiscent of Fluxus scores, which is to say “deeply prosaic everyday statements, comprised of short, simple, vernacular words, presented in the quasi-instrumental forms of lists and instructions” (Kotz 2001, p61), where the receiver of the score (in this case, the randomly picked mailbox-owner) has a choice to enact the score in real-life or in their imagination. In other words, in this type of performance, reading is already considered as an “activity of production” (Kotz 2001, p59) and performance takes place even if only as a “language-based event” (Kotz 2001, p82). The score is thought as completed because the idea (in this case, the sensorially oriented task) entered the receiver’s mind and body where it was inevitably performed, even if only as a thought or a fantasy (Kotz 2001, p83).

“In the end we were left with the curiosity of wondering how the scores were received. Did they follow the instruction or chuck the note in the garbage; we will never know. Once it left our hands, the score had a life beyond our control.”
PHOTO: mailbox in Shanghai

With Fluxus, the ‘Inbox Theatre’ also shared the “democratic premise that ‘anybody can do it’” (Buuck 2013, no page), meaning that these performances can be enacted by everyday people and not only by trained, specifically skilled actors. As such, the ‘Inbox Theatre’ pressed against the concept of virtuosity and “purge[d] the world of bourgeois sickness” (Maciunas 1963, no page). What is more, it challenged the art/life divide, and this it did not only by questioning who has the right to perform but also by "ensuring that the details of everyday life, the random constellations of objects that surround us, stop going unnoticed" (Johnson 2008, no page). The given scores treated daily life (i.e. bird songs, clouds, one’s own hand) as ready-mades, bringing the everyday occurrences into focus and encouraging the participants to pay attention to “the unseen, to the things that can pass unnoticed” (Kotz 2001, p84). Through this changed relationship to the quotidian, these performances turned the mundane into an ‘event’; what Kotz calls a “perceptual readymade” (Kotz 2001, p81).

But while Fluxus scores were very often “gag-like” (Kotz 2001, p84), Inbox Theatre took itself more earnestly.

“Our intent was not to trick or play jokes on our participants. We felt there is too much of that in the art world as it is and we were not interested in joining that club. Not to trick, offend, frighten, make fun of, were our guiding principles. Sadly, treating people with respect was much more radical anyway.”

Their interest in revolting against digitisation and desensitisation aligned ‘Inbox Theatre’ with Situationist Internationals who were known for their politically oriented refusal to participate in the capitalist machinery. Like Situationists who critiqued the society of spectacle, ‘Inbox Theatre’ enacted anarchy towards society of technology and digital culture, and the resulting alienation and desensitisation of human bodies. Through guerrilla-style interventions into the everyday life, the group constructed situations or “moments of life” (Bogdanov 1989, 3’05’’) that would destabilise the world as it was and incite the creation of new forms of living.

What is more, like Situationist actions, the ‘Inbox Theatre’ performances did not take place on an elitist stage or a podium of any sort but in the everyday. They were a sort of street actions, only on an intimate and more private scale. In this mode of performance there is no longer the separation between those who act and those who stand aside and watch; the spectator no longer exists. The enacted scores are seen by no one else but those who (privately) enact them.

“We were protesting the mass-media idea of the event. In our view, the event is valid even if only a handful of people are its witnesses and in our case this handful was really just one single individual who does not stand outside and analyse the performance but is in the performance, or better to say, is the performance.”

PHOTO: mailbox in Sydney, Erskineville area

In line with Situationists, the ‘Inbox Theatre’ performances were transient events, short interruptions of the ongoing flow of life. As such they were uninterested in preservation and consumption. However, the pressure to document the project arose and the group had a challenge to face.

DOCUMENTATION

To give the project yet another layer, the group chose Instagram as a mode of documentation, a somewhat odd choice given their stance against the screen-based culture. Instagram was however chosen with the concept of ‘detournement’ in mind - an intention to use the medium in order to disrupt it (Puchner, 2004, p9). Here is what the group said about this attempt to negotiate the mediatized culture and embodied experience.

Screen Shot 2020-12-28 at 11.49.47 am.png — “We weren’t able to evade the use of screens entirely at the Covid-time, so we looked at the ways to turn the medium against itself, to disrupt it. Working within in order to subvert, we’ve used the platform to remind those staring at the screens of their bodies, turning the passive screen-starer into a corporeally engaged participant. It is inevitable that those reading the messages on the screen will perform the instruction, even if only in their imagination.”

SEE INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT HERE

To stay close to their original intention of counteracting desensitisation and promoting embodiment, the group incorporated images of nature to the Instagram feed. The presentation style corresponded to the layout of this social media platform - i.e. a three column or a tryptic - so that each line had: 1. a photograph of a mailbox; 2. a photograph of a handwritten score, and 3. a photograph of nature.

“Images of nature are there to remind us (i.e. those who will ‘consume’ this performance via Instagram) to go outside, away from the screens. These Instagram posts are still aiming to be a poetic document of corporeality.”

PHOTO: taken in Shanghai

Inbox Theatre was a short-lived performative intervention by a group of young students who wanted to ‘infect’ the world with radical thoughts about the importance of kindness, embodiment, and physical (off-screen) connection. An invasion of the everyday with transgressive acts of kindness had in its core a vision of a truly different future.

PROJECT WEBSITE: https://inboxtheatreinbox.wixsite.com/inboxtheatre

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bogdanov, Branka. 1989. The Situationist International. Produced by The Institute of Contemporary Art and Continental Cablevision of Cambridge, MA. Available via Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncH0-q9OXco

Buuck, David. 2013. “How to make us flux: Scores/scripts/instructions.” Jacket2. Kelly Writers House, Philadelphia. Published 19 March 2013. Accessed 30 October 2020. https://jacket2.org/commentary/how-make-us-flux-scoresscriptsinstructions

Johnson, Ken. 2008. “George Brecht, 82, Fluxus Conceptual Artist, Is Dead.” The New York Times. Published 15 December 2008. Accessed 25 October 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/15/arts/music/15brecht.html

Kotz, Liz. 2001. “Post-Cagean Aesthetics and the ‘Event’ Score.” October. Vol 95 (winter, 2001). pp. 54-89. Available online: https://www.jstor.org/stable/779200

Maciunas, George. 1963. Fluxus Manifesto. Accessed through MoMA: https://www.moma.org/collection/works/127947

Puchner, Maron. 2004. “Society of the Counter-Spectacle: Debord and the Theatre of the Situaoonists.” In Theatre Research Interna7onal 29 (1): 4-15 (2004) hKp://www.people.fas.harvard.edu/~puchner/debord.pdf