To Be or Not to Be: the performative experience of becoming a character

ABSTRACT

This article investigates the complex relationship between the performer and the character, focusing on the question of identification and the boundaries between art and life. Through a comparative analysis of some Western and Eastern traditions of performer training, the study explores philosophical, aesthetic, and technical perspectives that challenge the fusion between performer and role. Key references such as Jerzy Grotowski, Étienne Decroux, Peter Brook, Constantin Stanislavski, and Georges Ivanovitch Gurdjieff support the reflection on the concept of working on oneself as an ethical and artistic practice. The article argues that mastery in acting does not lie in total immersion in the character, but in the ability to maintain a conscious distance that allows the performer to develop technical precision, creative freedom, and stage presence. The notion of self-observation, understood as a tool for cultivating a lucid and integrated presence, is presented as a central principle in performer training, resonating with the Socratic ideal of self-knowledge. Through this paradoxical exercise, the article concludes that the performer not only deepens their art but also transforms themselves, contributing to a critical and humanized theatrical practice.

Keywords:
Acting; Identification; Self-observation; Presence; Grotowski.

RESUMO

Este artigo investiga a complexa relação entre o performer e o personagem, com foco na questão da identificação e nos limites entre arte e vida. A partir de uma análise comparada entre algumas tradições ocidentais e orientais de formação do performer, o estudo aborda perspectivas filosóficas, estéticas e técnicas que problematizam a fusão entre intérprete e papel. Referências importantes, como Jerzy Grotowski, Étienne Decroux, Peter Brook, Constantin Stanislavski e Georges Ivanovitch Gurdjieff, fundamentam a reflexão sobre o conceito de trabalhar sobre si mesmo como prática ética e artística. O artigo argumenta que a maestria na atuação não reside na imersão total no personagem, mas na capacidade de manter uma distância consciente, que permita ao performer desenvolver precisão técnica, liberdade criativa e presença cênica. A noção de auto-observação, entendida como ferramenta para o cultivo de uma presença lúcida e integrada, é apresentada como um princípio central na formação do performer, ressoando com o ideal socrático do autoconhecimento. Por meio desse exercício paradoxal, conclui-se que o performer não apenas aprofunda sua arte, mas também transforma a si mesmo, contribuindo para uma prática teatral crítica e humanizada.

Palavras-chave:
Atuação; Identificação; Auto-observação; Presença; Grotowski.

RÉSUMÉ

Cet article explore la relation complexe entre le performer et le personnage, en se concentrant sur la question de l’identification et sur les frontières entre l’art et la vie. À partir d’une analyse comparative de certaines traditions occidentales et orientales de formation du performer, l’étude aborde des perspectives philosophiques, esthétiques et techniques qui remettent en question la fusion entre l’interprète et le rôle. Des références majeures telles que Jerzy Grotowski, Étienne Decroux, Peter Brook, Constantin Stanislavski et Georges Ivanovitch Gurdjieff soutiennent la réflexion sur le concept de travailler sur soi-même comme pratique éthique et artistique. L’article soutient que la maîtrise du jeu ne réside pas dans une immersion totale dans le personnage, mais dans la capacité à maintenir une distance consciente, permettant ainsi au performer de développer une précision technique, une liberté créative et une présence scénique. La notion d’auto-observation, entendue comme un outil de développement d’une présence lucide et intégrée, est présentée comme un principe central dans la formation du performer, en résonance avec l’idéal socratique de la connaissance de soi. À travers cet exercice paradoxal, l’article conclut que l’interprète approfondit non seulement son art, mais se transforme également, contribuant ainsi à une pratique théâtrale critique et humanisée.

Mots-clés:
Jeu; Identification; Auto-observation; Présence; Grotowski.

Introduction

The European realist theatre of the 19th century, especially in melodramatic forms, imposed a unique challenge on actors: the need to deeply embody the character, merging their own identities with the dramatic figure. This demand marked an aesthetic and ethical turning point in theatrical practice, where acting came to be perceived not merely as representation, but as lived experience. Étienne Decroux's famous assertion that actors are inseparable from their creations expresses the essence of this dilemma, distinguishing acting from other artistic practices where the creator remains, to a greater or lesser extent, separate from the work (Decroux, 1985, p. 87). While painters, sculptors, and writers manipulate external materials, actors work with their own body, voice, emotions, and imagination as expressive matter and means of creation.

Despite the reforms brought about by the 20th century, such as Stanislavski's psychological realism (Zarrilli, 2009), Brecht's critical distancing (Revermann, 2022), and Grotowski's pursuit of organicity (1997), the dilemma of embodiment remains central. Actors need to deeply engage in character creation, considering not only their internal traits but also their sociocultural context.

However, this immersion raises questions: to what extent does embodiment contribute to a living presence on stage? When can it compromise artistic clarity or the performer's boundaries? Reflection on this balance is intensified by contemporary authors such as Judith Butler (Butler; Athanasiou, 2013), in considering performativity, and Erika Fischer-Lichte (2008), in discussing presence as a relational and transformative effect.

Thus, character creation requires actors not only sensitive dedication but also technical and ethical consciousness capable of sustaining artistic practices critically and healthily.

As contemporary European research in acting points out, the performer needs to maintain a paradoxical relationship with the character: intense and analytical immersion without identity fusion. The analytical distance in relation to the object thus configures a necessary paradox: it is precisely this separation that enables its apprehension and the interpretation of its deeper meaning. Consequently, this necessary balance between immersion and critical lucidity is created. This posture allows the performer to interpret with depth, creative freedom, and stage presence without losing their own consciousness.

This article investigates the complex dynamic of identification between the performer and the character, tracing the evolution of this relationship and highlighting some examples, such as theatre in Ancient Greece and in the contemporary scene. The analysis covers philosophical, cultural, and practical considerations on identification in acting, highlighting both Western traditions and traditional Asian theatrical forms. Furthermore, it is based on the teachings of figures such as George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff¹, Jerzy Grotowski, Étienne Decroux, and Peter Brook. Through this exploration, the aim is to understand how the interaction between the self and the character influences the actor's craft and shapes the experience of theatrical performance, as well as the human being and the relationship with the roles they assume in daily life.

The concept of “working on oneself” has deep roots in various philosophical and artistic traditions, including the approaches of Gurdjieff, Stanislavski, and Grotowski. Although this concept may seem simple and practical, it encompasses a profound process of self-observation and transformation. This journey aims to transcend automatic behaviours and habitual patterns to achieve a state of heightened consciousness and genuine presence. For these actors, “working on oneself” is not limited to the development of technical skills; it involves a rigorous and honest confrontation with one's own inner reality.

This practice has been essential for the evolution of acting techniques: from Stanislavski's emphasis on affective memory and physical actions within realistic structures to Grotowski's attention to impulses and the expression of a deeper and more primitive life flow. Through these approaches, actors seek to create authentic experiences² on stage, balancing the creation and embodiment of characters with the achievement of inner freedom.

Thus, this article examines how these methodologies, despite their differences, converge on the common goal of promoting self-observation and the search for inner truth.

“The actor is one with his creation”

Étienne Decroux’s statement (Decroux, 1985, p. 87), “the actor is one with his creation,” synthetizes the fundamental distinction he draws between the performer, whether from Classical, Realist, Epic, Physical, or Performance theatre, and other artists, such as painters, writers, or sculptors, whose bodies remain separate from their works.

The performer needs no paint, clay, or stone; their art depends only on their own body/voice and imagination. At first glance, this might suggest that the practice of acting is more accessible than other artistic forms. However, precisely because the performer is, in their very being, the raw material of the work, observes that the art of acting “can become the most difficult of the arts” (Decroux, 1985, p. 91).

The complexity of this work lies in the fact that the performer must transform themselves into the work of art itself. This involves not only the tangible manipulation of the physical body, perhaps the most accessible aspect of training, whether focused on Stanislavski, Meisner, psychophysical, intercultural, or hybrid methods, but also mastery over thoughts, feelings, and instincts, subtle and constantly moving elements.

In the context of various contemporary approaches to the performer's art, a fundamental point of convergence is observed: the recognition that this artist is, simultaneously, both the instrument and the instrumentalist of their practice. It is a work that impacts directly on oneself, on one's own body, voice, thought, and sensibility, configuring a process of technical and expressive self-construction. This dimension, however, is often misunderstood or underestimated by those who observe the scenic phenomenon only from an external perspective. Such a perception may have influenced the way actors were (and still are) viewed by society. Robert Abirached, in the preface to Diderot's Le Paradoxe sur le Comédien, addresses this issue by highlighting the great moral and social responsibility of the actor, who, on stage, must “bring the world to harmony through the virtue of the fiction he embodies” (Abirached, 1994, p. 21).

Paradoxically, this noble mission was historically associated with a marginalized image of the actor. Abirached (1994, p. 21) mentions that this profession was seen as belonging to “a profligate, inconsistent, and corrupt corporation, condemned to misery and debauchery”. This 18th-century view, so shocking by today's standards, reflects a long tradition of social contempt. For centuries, the Catholic Church considered actors accursed deceivers, comparing them to prostitutes and, in many cases, subjecting them to excommunication, as was the case with the great Molière.

Although there are no direct documentary records to confirm this hypothesis, it is plausible to consider that the issue of the fusion between the actor and their creation has roots in Ancient Greece, particularly with the emergence of Thespis, traditionally recognized as the first actor in Western theatre, around 534 BC³.

With the introduction of the principal actor and the progressive separation from the chorus, a process that did not occur immediately, a new performative configuration was established, marked by the emergence of a more intimate relationship between the actors and the characters they embodied. Until then, the coryphaeus and the chorus recounted heroic myths in the third person, preserving a distance between the human narrator and the mythical figure. The action of Thespis thus inaugurates a practice of direct embodiment of the character, opening space for what would become the core of European dramatic acting.

Over time, European theatre gradually lost its sacred character and became more secular, approaching the audience through characters inspired by everyday human figures. Despite Aristotle's definition of Mímesis, which understands the imitation or “representation” of human actions and not necessarily of their psychological characters (Aristotle, 2013, p. XVI), the actor's work became progressively more complex, requiring the creation of techniques capable of conferring subjective depth to the characters, which implies a technical, emotional, and sometimes painful effort.

From this moment, one of the central challenges of the art of acting also emerges: the tension between the human being presents on stage and the fictional entity they embody, between the performer's real body and the character's symbolic presence. This tension remains one of the structuring issues of performer pedagogy, being addressed by different schools and methods, from the search for inner truth in Stanislavski's system to the critical distancing proposed by Brecht, up to contemporary investigations on performativity, presence, and subjectivity in the scene (Zarrilli, 2009, p. 41). For Stanislavski, emotional memory is one of the “best and only materials for inner creative work”. According to him, the actor can only experience their own feelings (Stanislavski, 2008, p. 209-210). Thus, Mitter (1988, p. 62) highlights that all characters will have feelings that correspond to those of the actors, because they “echo aspects of their own personalities”.

The expression “actor's work” (in French, travail de l’acteur) reveals itself to be particularly relevant when considered in light of its etymology. The term “work” derives from the Latin tripaliare, which refers to the torture instrument called tripalium, used to subdue bodies in suffering. This original meaning carries significant symbolic implications for the performer's practice, suggesting the emotional, psychic, and even physical tensions frequently involved in the process of scenic creation (Godefroy, 1881, p. 23).

By delving into a role, the performer embarks on an intense journey in search of credibility, which presupposes not only the verisimilitude of the representation but the living and organic experience of the character. Such dedication, however, can generate zones of indistinction between the interpreter's personal emotions and the character's fictional affects.

This tension between subject and role has been widely discussed in contemporary approaches to performativity and scenic subjectivity (Anderson; Felski; Moi, 2019, p. 53), in which the actor is in constant negotiation between their interiority and the aesthetic device of the scene.

In this context, the performer's work gives rise to the process of identification, not in the Aristotelian sense of Catharsis, where the spectator is freed from their passions through the tragic character, but rather in the relationship between the actor themselves and the figure they embody on stage. Diderot criticized this process, fearing that the emotional fusion between actor and character would compromise the technical control and coherence of the performance (Diderot, 1994, p. 67).

This notion of identification contrasts strongly with the approach of traditional Asian theatre, such as, among others, Noh Theatre, Beijing Opera, and Kutiyattam. In these traditions, actors do not seek to infuse personal elements into their roles but rather strictly follow established codes and conventions. Perfection in acting is not in the representation of everyday life but in the rigorous execution of traditional forms. Actors from these schools dedicate years to developing “extra-daily” skills through intensive physical and vocal training (Barba, 1995, p. 10).

In Noh Theatre, gestures are rigidly codified, demonstrating a highly formalized technical system. The performer's walk, for example, requires heels to remain in contact with the floor, with knees slightly bent, in order to maintain the body's height constant. The performer's focus is not on the psychological motivation of the gesture but on the precision of the execution. Scenic movement obeys the principles of Jo-ha-kyū, a traditional Japanese rhythmic structure that guides action in three phases: slow beginning (jo), accelerated development (ha), and fast conclusion (kyū), followed by a new cycle (Brazell, 1998, p. 34). This rhythmic logic overrides narrative progression, highlighting form and time as the foundations of the scene.

Another example is the actor of Kutiyattam Theatre, who clearly distinguishes between the individual, the actor, and the character. Only the individual possesses an everyday body; the actor's body, on the other hand, is transformed through specific postures, spread legs, pelvis tilted forward, right hand closed near the navel, and left arm raised to shoulder height. The character's body, in turn, is entirely stylized, using codified gestures (Mudras) to express emotions and sensations through the concept of Rasa⁴.

In these traditions, identification between actor and character does not occur, as the actor, through rigorous training, builds a “new body”: an “artistic body”. The preparation of these artists requires years of learning and practice under the guidance of masters (Venu, 2012).

Certain forms of traditional Asian theatre arose much later than what we call “the birth of the first Western actor,” around 354 BC. For example, Beijing Opera first appeared around 1790 (Li, 2010, p. 54), while Noh Theatre emerged about 700 years ago (Zeami, 2008, p. 35). Even earlier, about 2,000 years ago, Kutiyattam Theatre appeared in India (Venu, 2002, p. 27). The Indian theatre treatise, the Natyashastra, written in Sanskrit, is believed to have been composed between 200 BC and 200 AD28. If traditional Eastern forms laid the groundwork for performer training long before those of Western European theatre, it was because actors in traditional theatre needed to master highly precise and codified gestures and develop specific vocal qualities, rooted in their respective cultures. Although these techniques are transmitted orally and through practice, codification began very early. Thanks to these codes, the same roles are performed by different actors, but always in the same way, requiring great precision.

In contrast, contemporary European theatre actors generally base their work on classic or popular texts. Their performances are typically built according to the characters and the story within the text. In this case, the actor must align as closely as possible with the character written by the author. However, I observe that, in most cases, the actor merely lends their everyday body and voice to the author's text. While they may fully understand the story line, their representation generally includes a personal and, therefore, subjective interpretation of the character. Consequently, it is quite common for the actor to identify with the character they are playing.

On the other hand, in the training of actors within traditional Asian theatre, there is a common point: the development of a “new physical body” and, often, a “new voice” for the performer, both very distant from their everyday body and voice. There is no prohibition or guideline regarding the actors' emotions during the performance. However, as the character is meticulously constructed, physically and vocally, and because the scenic composition is extremely precise, emotion can flow through the channels built into the character's body. As a result, actors maintain a distance between themselves and the characters they play and never identify with the roles they perform.

In the contemporary European context, many actors tend to adopt naturalistic approaches, seeking a representation that mimics everyday life. This tendency, influenced by Stanislavski's system and later by the Method developed by Lee Strasberg, emphasizes faithful emotional experience and deep identification with the character. However, this pursuit of realism can lead to the reproduction of stereotypes and a lack of exploration of the expressive potential of the body and voice. As Pavis (2016, p. 205) highlights, the risk lies in creating characters that, although technically correct, lack vitality and stage presence. Furthermore, excessive identification can compromise the actor's technical control, resulting in inconsistent and emotionally unbalanced performances.

In Asia, especially in countries like Japan and China, traditional theatrical practices such as Noh, Kabuki, and Beijing Opera emphasize gestural and vocal codification, promoting a clear separation between actor and character. However, contemporary Asian actors performing in Westernized contexts often face similar challenges to their European colleagues. Moreover, the attempt to reconcile traditional techniques with naturalistic approaches can result in performances that lack the symbolic depth of Asian traditions and the emotional credibility sought by Western realism. As Zarrilli (2009, p. 97) observes, the integration of Eastern bodily practices into the training of Western actors requires a deep understanding of the cultural and aesthetic differences involved, avoiding superficial appropriation and promoting a conscious intercultural approach.

Regarding actor-character identification, Gordon Craig refers to the “accidental nature” of theatre art, as it depends on the person of the actor. The actor cannot be used as “material for theatre,” since their nature is always changing, which introduces uncertainty into their performance. According to Craig (2009), “Art only develops according to an ordered plan,” and the art of theatre would not qualify as such. This is largely due to the actors' lack of control over their emotions:

The actions of the actor’s body, the expression of his face, the sounds of his voice, all are at the mercy of the winds of his emotions: these winds, which must blow for ever round the artist, moving without unbalancing him. But with the actor, emotions possess him; it seizes upon his limbs, moving them whither it will. He is at its beck and call, he moves as one in a frantic dream or as one distraught, swaying here and there; his head, his arms, his feet, if not utterly beyond control, are so weak to stand against the torrent of his passions, that they are ready to play him false at any moment. It is useless for him to attempt to reason with himself (Craig, 2009, p. 28).

If, as Craig states, theatre cannot be considered an art due to the accidental nature of the actor's work, then it becomes necessary to isolate and eliminate this source of variability. The solution lies in ordering the living material, that is, the person of the actor, and transforming it into a work of art. This process begins with the exploration of human functioning in the motor, emotional, and intellectual centres. This approach, although proposed by Georges Ivanovitch Gurdjieff, a figure unfamiliar with the world of theatre, deserves a more detailed examination.

“These 'I's must die so that the great 'I' may be born” (Gurdjieff apud Ouspensky, 2001, p. 225)

For Gurdjieff, identification characterizes human beings when they blindly follow what they encounter in life without questioning. This attitude may seem naive, but it is more widespread than one thinks, encompassing a common mode of operation: identification with social positions, professions, desires, roles in daily life, and even with imagination. The main factor behind identification is automation, the repetition of actions, reactions, thoughts, and feelings without them being questioned or brought to consciousness.

Identification is an important effect of waking sleep, a state between waking and sleeping where a person has no control over themselves or the events around them. This state represents a significant obstacle to the development of a more conscious existence.

Identification can result from simple factors, such as a lack of vocabulary combined with cultural predispositions. Georges de Maleville (2006, p. 26) gives an example: “It will be said of a man that he is left-handed, that he is a bank clerk and that he is a father of three children”. In reality, this categorization is inaccurate because this man “has a left hand more skilled than his right, occupies a position in a bank and has children”. The first statement represents a fixed classification, while the second reflects an action-oriented viewpoint.

People who are unaware of their inner functioning will always be at the mercy of external events. Their identifications will be numerous, and they will constantly change between different centres of attention. They may identify with a thought at one moment and then with an emotion contrary to that thought the next moment. They will frequently seek validation or recognition because they are unsure of who they are. As a result, they will be highly sensitive to the reactions of those around them, always trying to grasp signals that reassure them of their acceptance.

Just as a person who regularly identifies with various external factors deviates from their essential goals, an actor who constantly identifies with various elements that capture their attention will end up distancing themselves from their totality. For example, an actor may realize that they or their partner made a mistake during a performance. If they become fixated on this mistake, criticizing themselves or their partner, more mistakes will arise or, at the very least, their presence will lose vitality, as their thoughts will block the natural flow of energy. The actor's mind must remain in the present, aligned with each action, instead of dwelling on the past or future.

Another example is the actor who begins to gain public recognition. They may identify with the image of a “famous actor,” becoming anxious to always please “their audience”. To preserve this image, they become dependent on the audience's reactions, and the quality of their performance may fluctuate according to the audience's response. The more vulnerable the actor is to audience feedback, the more the quality of their performance will suffer highs and lows.

Considering that performers are creatures of flesh, thoughts, and feelings, how could they avoid being influenced by audience reactions when creating art from such personal and intimate material?

In relation to identification, initially there is no great distinction between the performers and the characters they portray, making them vulnerable to external reactions. They must find this distinction within themselves. Even in the absence of a specific character, there must be a separation between them and their achievements on stage. Finally, after reaching a certain level of professional competence, they must detach themselves from the image of being a “successful actor/actress” to maintain the freedom to explore beyond the limits they have reached.

For Jerzy Grotowski, the actors' identification with their characters is a characteristic of realist theatre. The actor shapes their character based on personal experiences and understandings, even if the character was originally created by the author. Furthermore, the performer often considers themselves the sole creator: “It's me, and it's from me that I create [the character]” (Grotowski, 1995, p. 237). Grotowski (1995, p. 237) believes that this attitude derives from “Western culture, because we are very concerned with the notion of self”.

Currently, there is a growing influence of Western conventions, especially text-based realist theatre, on much of the theatrical productions in major Asian urban centres. In countries like Japan, China, and South Korea, the diffusion of the European dramaturgical and performative model, particularly the naturalist traditions inherited from the 19th century (such as those of Ibsen and Chekhov), has begun to shape both the staging of Western plays and the adaptation of works by Asian authors to the conventions of psychological realism (Goodman, 2003, p. 62).

This process of Westernization of Asian theatre has led, in many cases, to the marginalization or dilution of traditional forms such as Noh, Kabuki, Xiqu (Chinese Opera), and Kutiyattam, whose principles of codification and non-representation contrast strongly with the realist paradigm. However, some contemporary directors have sought to resist this aesthetic hegemony and propose new forms of creation. Notable examples include the intercultural works of Tadashi Suzuki, who retrieves the rigorous physicality and vocal energy of traditional Japanese actors in dialogue with European texts, and Wu Hsing-Kuo, who reinterprets Shakespeare through the performative grammar of Beijing Opera (Zarrilli, 2009, p. 57). These initiatives reveal a conscious attempt to revalue Asian performative practices from a critical perspective, not subordinated to the moulds of Western theatre.

For Peter Brook (1998, p. 34), the idea that actors should not identify with their characters to build them with precision is only an apparent paradox. In practice, the less actors identify with their roles, the more intensely they will engage in the work, because they maintain the necessary distance and clarity for acting.

It is worth noting that Peter Brook employed Gurdjieff's notion of identification to express his thoughts on accuracy and misconceptions in the work of actors and the roles they play:

A good actor never believes that he is the part he plays. A bad actor throws himself body and soul into his characterization, so much so that he loses himself in it completely. Often, he leaves the stage convinced that he has given the best performance of his life, when it is clear to everyone around him that he has been exaggerated, artificial, and insincere. But he has no way of being aware of this, because he is deaf and blind: there is no distance at all between himself and the image he projects. He has been swallowed up in what Gurdjieff calls 'identification’. The better the actor, on the other hand, the less he is identified with his role, and, in a seeming paradox, the less he is identified, the more deeply he can be involved (Brook, 1998, p. 34).

It is important to analyse the notion of identification, both in people's daily lives and in the work of actors. In this regard, Gurdjieff observes that, both in life and on stage, there will always be those who consider identification essential for the achievement of good work. They see it as a beneficial characteristic and give it names like “enthusiasm,” “zeal,” “passion,” “spontaneity” and “inspiration.” In reality, however, it is a forgetting of oneself. These individuals do not know who they are and, consequently, let themselves be carried away by the flow of events, feeling satisfied when things happen according to their desires and frustrated when they do not. In both cases, their deceptive minds create various arguments to justify what they are attached to (Gurdjieff apud Ouspensky, 2001, p. 157).

Gurdjieff encouraged his students to observe people in social settings, such as restaurants, shops, or theatres, where individuals frequently try to justify the things with which they identify. It is common to hear someone complaining that they do not receive due appreciation from others, whether at school, work, or in the family, or lamenting the lack of education in others. On the other hand, some like to emphasize how much they are loved by others. These people are always concerned with what others think and say about them. “They become greed, desires, or words; nothing is left of themselves” (Gurdjieff apud Ouspensky, 2001, p. 157-158).

Opening a brief parenthesis, it is interesting to mention that, although the analogy between actors and individuals influenced by external events can help actors understand identification, Gurdjieff proposed an opposite approach. He suggested that people use the image of an actor to engage in different life situations without identifying with them, thus perceiving the world as a great theatre and preserving their inner freedom. This inner freedom is, without doubt, a goal for both individuals in their lives and for actors on stage. Peter Brook (1998, p. 34) concludes: “This is exactly what a good actor should do”.

Gordon Craig also advises against a stage expression that encourages the actor to “get into the skin” of the character. Instead, he suggests that the actor should focus on “getting completely out of the skin of the character” (Craig, 2009, p. 31).

Work on oneself

“Work on oneself” is an expression used by Gurdjieff in his teachings. This work involves an honest search for the truth about oneself to combat the automatic behaviours that keep people in a state of waking sleep. Through this search, many of a person's intellectual, emotional, and physical qualities, buried under layers of daily habits, are brought to light (Nott, 2017, p. 51).

This phrase, “work on oneself,” has become familiar in recent decades, especially in relation to the work of Stanislavski, who used it extensively. As tells us, Stanislavski emphasized this concept, and Grotowski himself adopted it for working with his actors (Zarrilli, 2009, p. 61). For Grotowski, the performer's rigorous training was an essential method of “work on oneself,” because, by integrating body, emotion, and mind, the performer comes to know themselves deeply. The original title of Stanislavski's main work, according to Grotowski, was Work on Oneself. However, this title was not preserved in earlier English and French translations (Grotowski, 1998, p. 99).

Regarding Stanislavski's “work on oneself,” there is an apparent paradox between his teaching on identification, which he seems to encourage, and inner freedom, which can only be achieved through total renunciation of any identification process. However, in Stanislavski in Rehearsal, Vasili Toporkov states that, according to Stanislavski, when the actor identifies with the character, he experiences the “deep happiness” to which his master refers. Nevertheless, to achieve this inner autonomy, the actor must work on themselves (Toporkov, 1998, p. 218).

In Gurdjieff's view, the goal of work on oneself is to free oneself from the traps of identification to achieve inner freedom. From this perspective, it is possible to say that the “deep happiness,” mentioned by Toporkov, can be understood as the state of an actor who manages to create a character and, while performing it, observes their own work without identifying with it. For, in the end, if the actor identifies with the character they are playing, they are not internally free and feel only the joy of an illusion.

The difficulty lies precisely in the character, who must exist on stage and take the audience with them on their journey until they leave the scene. Stanislavski's actor must create this character using both the references provided by the author and their own resources, first through affective memory and then by logically constructing physical actions within the evolving contexts of the play.

According to Thomas Richards, who worked with Grotowski, Stanislavski's actor builds their role “from the combination of the character, written by the author, and the actor himself.” The actor, therefore, assumes the “I am,” following “the circumstances of the character proposed by the author, to achieve a state of near-identification with the character, a new being” (Richards, 2004, p. 98).

Stanislavski worked with physical actions within the context of everyday human relationships, based on social conventions. The requirement that the performer practice their art in conditions that closely resemble daily life, sometimes even their own, and their conviction that they must identify with the character, create great challenges and contradictions for the actor.

On the other hand, in Grotowski's work, “the ‘character’ existed more as a screen that protected the actor.” There was no identification or realistic approach in the sense of everyday realism. Referring to Ryszard Cieslak's character in The Constant Prince, describes the process as follows:

The ‘character’ was constructed through a ‘montage’ and was intended, above all, for the spectator's mind; behind this screen, the actor maintained his intimacy, his security. Furthermore, the ‘character’ screen occupied the spectator's mind, so that they could perceive, with a part of themselves more enabled for this task, the actor's hidden process (Richards, 2004, p. 98).

For Grotowski, the main difference between his work and Stanislavski's lay in their respective approaches to impulses. While Stanislavski worked with physical actions rooted in real-life social situations, Grotowski sought “physical actions in an essential current of life, and not in an everyday social situation. And in this current of life, impulses are more important” (Richards, 2004, p. 113).

Confrontation with oneself

The expression “work on oneself,” common to the methods of Gurdjieff, Stanislavski, and Grotowski, despite their differences, points to a paradoxical exercise. The “self” is not another person, nor an external concept that can be worked on directly; it is, above all, a confrontation with oneself⁵.

For Étienne Decroux, the artist's perception of themselves in relation to their work already creates the necessary distance to avoid selfidentification, allowing for clarity in creation. Decroux (apud Pezin, 2003, p. 120) states: “Since they are sentient, they must experience [their art] like a spectator sitting in the theatre.”

Peter Brook (1998, p. 34) uses a metaphor to illustrate his impression of the actor and their role: “He is like a hand in a glove, separate, yet inseparable; the part infuses every one of his cells, yet in no way imprisons him; inside, he is free and highly conscious.”

Decroux uses the glove as a similar metaphor, but with a different approach. For him, the glove represents the body, and the hand becomes thoughts:

The body is a glove whose finger is thought.

Thought, impulse, thumb, and pinch, which are almost homonyms, are almost synonyms.

Our thoughts direct our actions just as a statue’s thumbs direct forms; and our body, sculpted from within, expands.

Our thought, between thumb and forefinger, presses the back of our envelope and our body, sculpted from within, bends (Decroux, 1985, p. 12)⁶.

The concept of “work on oneself,” common to all these researchers, resonates with the Socratic injunction Know Thyself, inscribed on the pediment of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. This ancient wisdom, explored by Socrates (470-399 BC), invites individuals to turn inward, to reflect on their human condition, to achieve self-awareness, and finally, to take responsibility for their own existence (Plato, 1997, p. 580).

Socrates (1997, p. 580) admitted: “The only thing I know is that I know nothing,” reflecting the understanding that everything is in perpetual motion. The performer who dedicates themselves to their craft knows that they can never claim to completely master their work. This uncertainty, this not knowing, is the concern of every performer, and it is perhaps what makes their work so moving. Even as a work of art, the performer must maintain their humanity to connect with other human beings.

The performer who aspires to create high-quality work must observe themselves with sincerity. Observation of their work, including feedback from the director or, later, how it is received by the audience and critics, should be considered. However, equally important is self-observation, which involves a genuine, non-judgmental internal gaze. Highlighting unconscious patterns without immediately trying to change them allows the performer to become aware of their own actions, giving them the option to repeat them or consciously transform them in their next performance.

Self-observation and Development of Presence

All processes aimed at a person's evolution involve self-observation. However, this is not common or superficial observation, as that would lead nowhere.

According to Gurdjieff, to study oneself and understand the connections and correspondences of the various functions within oneself, one must first learn to perceive these functions. Then, with complete sincerity, it is necessary to become conscious of the processes involved in self-observation.

Self-observation involves the study of the functioning of fundamental centres: the physical, the emotional, and the intellectual centre. This practice is essential for a person, whether performer or not, to achieve genuine and permanent presence in their life, in their actions, and on stage. To perform full and accurate self-observation, a complete and authentic presence with oneself is necessary.

But how can this seemingly impossible task be accomplished?

In Gurdjieff's teachings, the suggestion is to begin by cultivating a relative presence, a proper alignment between internal and external manifestations. This requires constant effort to achieve real observation. This effort is directed towards three fundamental faculties, or three creative forces:

• Will or Active Force: involves the integral effort of the being, which should not be confused with mere desire, as desire is just the manifestation of one of the many ‘I’s within a person, coming from the different centres separately.

• Attention or Receptive Force: refers to a form of concentration that allows for the reception of information without interference from comments or judgments.18

• Consciousness or Reconciling Force: encompasses both attention and will. Awareness of a lack of will can reactivate it; awareness of when attention wanders and starts judging can help bring it back to a state of pure attention.

Contrary to popular belief, these faculties of discernment are not natural; they must be sought and developed. Since they are essential for the evolution of one's state of presence, the quality of presence determines the level of these faculties. In other words, by examining the quality of a person's attention, consciousness, and will during a specific action, it is possible to estimate their level of presence, and vice versa.

Methods of Self-observation

Gurdjieff mentioned two main methods of self-observation: analytical method and a simple recording of impressions method. Every form of observation must, first of all, be based on understanding the fundamental principles that govern human functions. The three essential principles of the human being, also known as the three types of intelligence, are: motor or physical intelligence, emotional intelligence, and mental intelligence, which encompasses not only intellect but also imagination and inspiration. These three principles are intrinsically interconnected, so that the limitation of one inevitably impacts the other two.

Referring to the functions of the human centres, Gurdjieff explained to Ouspensky (2001, p. 113): “Self-observation cannot be properly applied without knowing these principles, without keeping them constantly in mind.”

In the Analytical Method, for each event observed by the person, they ask: What is it? How does it happen? Additional elements are then added to the topic, and the investigation focuses on the event under examination.

The problem with this method is that the observer can lose sight of their original objective: self-observation.

It may be that an intellectual process is triggered, and the observer ends up spending excessive time on analysis, resulting in a situation where this practice: “not only makes no progress towards self-knowledge, but even inflates ideas or fantasies about oneself, which in some cases become the worst obstacles to attaining this knowledge” (Vaysse, 2009, p. 20).

The performer who analyses their work based solely on external feedback can stray far from their own path. This is especially true, as already mentioned, if they start criticizing their performance while acting. Instead of being present in each moment of the performance, they might anticipate or delay their actions as their attention shifts to analysis and intellectualization. According to Yoshi Oida (Oida; Marshal, 1997, p. 28) the actor must understand and express the play through their body, not just through their mind. For them, acting: “is not the same as theoretical or intellectual understanding.”

It is even more problematic when the performer tries to create something “interesting,” judging, during the performance, that what they are doing is not expressive enough. This judgment stems from a comparison based on subjective assumptions, which can compromise the authenticity of the performance.

In contrast, the Simple Recording of Impressions Method consists of internally registering everything that is observed at the exact moment events occur. This method requires attention and clarity focused on the totality of the person observing themselves, meaning it involves perceiving the action, the emotions that arise, and the thoughts present at that instant.

This observation must be performed without comparisons or value judgments, allowing the various observed phenomena to exist without the need for them to be interconnected. At the exact moment this pure observation happens, the Internal Observer emerges, the one who perceives without interfering, who witnesses without judging, and who enables the performer (and human being in general) to develop a deeper level of consciousness and presence.

Conclusion

The relationship between the performer and the character remains a central, and paradoxical, issue in contemporary theatrical practice. Although identification can provide a certain sense of realism to the scene, it also carries risks: the loss of technical clarity, emotional imbalance, and, in more extreme cases, the dilution of the performer's own identity. As the reflections of Grotowski, Brook, and Gurdjieff demonstrate, artistic mastery does not lie in merging with the character, but in the ability to maintain a conscious separation that allows for full stage presence combined with inner lucidity.

Asian theatrical traditions, such as Noh, Kabuki, and Kutiyattam, illuminate this path through codified practices, where the performer's body and voice are consciously transformed into artistic instruments. The absence of personal identification with the character in these contexts does not impoverish expressivity but channels it with precision through rigorously elaborated forms. These traditions thus offer not a model to be imitated, but principles that can inspire the training of the contemporary performer, especially concerning the preservation of subjective autonomy in the face of stage demands.

In this sense, the practice of work on oneself, present in the teachings of Gurdjieff, Stanislavski, and Grotowski, emerges as an ethical and technical path for the performer's development. This work requires not only physical and emotional effort, but above all the activation of will, attention, and consciousness: three fundamental forces that sustain presence and selfobservation. Different in their methods, these masters converge on an essential point: the performer's art is inseparable from a continuous process of inner transformation.

Cultivating the Internal Observer, the one who sees without judging, who witnesses without identifying, thus becomes a key not only for artistic effectiveness but also for the psychic integrity of the performer. This paradoxical exercise, of full involvement with lucid detachment, allows the performer to access deeper layers of human experience, shaping their art with consciousness and freedom.

Ultimately, the Socratic principle, Know Thyself, resonates as a transversal axis to all this reflection. It reminds the performer that the art of representation is not just a technique, but a practice of self-knowledge, a path of constant renewal, in which the stage also becomes a space for investigation into the human. By embracing this journey with humility and rigor, the performer not only enhances their stage presence but also contributes to the construction of a living, critical, and essentially transformative art.

Notes

• 1
  George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff (1867-1949), philosopher, researcher, mystic, and teacher of Greco-Armenian movements.
• 2
  By authentic experience, reference is made to the thought of Merleau-Ponty (1964, p. 5), in which “the body, far from being an object, is the primary means of access to the lived world; it is through perception and movement that consciousness is constituted, making the body the condition for the authentic experience of reality.”
• 3
  Aristotle's Poetics discusses the evolution of tragedy from the improvisations of the leaders of the dithyramb and the gradual development of its forms and content (Aristotle, 2013) but does not explicitly mention Thespis. On the other hand, later authors provide important testimony about Thespis's foundational role in theatre history. In the Ars Poetica, Horace states that Thespis was the first to use a traveling wagon to stage plays and to introduce actors who recited lines, transforming choral storytelling into dramatic representation (Horace, 2005).
• 4
  In traditional Indian theatre, Rasa refers to the essence or emotional flavor evoked in the audience through performance. Rooted in Bharata’s Nāṭyaśāstra, Venu (2012) describes the aesthetic experience that arises from the interaction of bhāvas (expressed emotions), which is categorized into nine primary Rasas (love, humor, heroism, admiration, peace, anger, sadness, fear, and disgust). Rasa is the ultimate aim of artistic expression in classical Indian performance.
• 5
  Some methods of personal development, which primarily use self-observation along with psychophysical exercises and theoretical classes, aim to integrate fundamental human principles: physical, emotional, and mental. An example of this is the Escola Vale do Ser, where one of the main training programs is called Work on Oneself. Available at: https://www.valedoser.com/. Accessed on: January 11, 2025.
• 6
  In the original French: “Le corps est un gant dont le doigt serait la pensée. Pensée, poussée, pouce et pincée qui sont presque homonymes, sont presque synonymes. Notre pensée pousse nos gestes ainsi qu'un pouce de statuaire pousse des formes; et notre corps, sculpté de l'intérieur, s'étend. Notre pensée, entre son pouce et son index, nous pince le revers de notre enveloppe et notre corps, sculpté de l'intérieur, se plie. Le mime est à la fois statuaire et statue. Donc, son témoin se lève pour retoucher le monde” (Decroux, 1963, p. 30).

Research data availability:

the dataset that supports the results of this study is published in the article itself.

• This original paper is also published in Portuguese in this issue of the journal.

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• Editor-in-charge: Gilberto Icle

Publication Dates

• Publication in this collection
  22 Aug 2025
• Date of issue
  2025

History

• Received
  10 Mar 2025
• Accepted
  19 May 2025