We continue the conversation between Hana Sršňová and Erika Merjavá at a shared table. In the September issue, we spoke about Dialogical Acting, the role of empty space within it, the receptive public, and the inner partner. In this issue, we bring you the continuation of the interview, exploring what real impact Dialogical Acting has on a person—and what voice and word actually mean.
VOICE AND WORD POINT TOWARDS US AND LEAD US FURTHER
What role does the voice play in Dialogical Acting?
Dialogical Acting is not just a discipline or an exercise, but a mirror of the human being. It points us back to ourselves. That is what makes it so fascinating. As for the voice, it maintains tension. It connects the whole body and extends beyond it. It shows us not only who we are, but also points to further possibilities of who we might become. With a weak voice and whispering, we cannot sustain tension or attention. Our energy drops, we stop hearing ourselves, and we lose interest. Because we no longer receive feedback—we cannot hear ourselves. It is as if someone were speaking to us too quietly; we lose engagement. When we are too quiet, we cannot even engage with ourselves, because we do not hear ourselves and therefore learn nothing from ourselves. We must be able to hear ourselves in order to respond. In Dialogical Acting, we discover things from ourselves, because the “other” is still only ourselves.
What if the voice is, on the contrary, too strong?
Too strong a voice also lacks feedback. When a person is shouting, they cannot hear the other. Shouting becomes a monologue. People argue, raise their voices, and stop listening to one another. It is the same in Dialogical Acting. When someone overwhelms the space with their voice—overpowers even themselves—they lose contact. The voice also needs to be tuned: in space, with oneself, and with the partner. It is a way of learning how to communicate with both oneself and others.
Why is it good to write reflections after Dialogical Acting?
A person becomes aware of things through writing. And when they return to them later, they can see their own development and shift.
So the word is important too?
Vyskočil said that if something is not named, it is as if it “does not exist.” It remains unconscious, unrecognized. The word is a form that makes a thought concrete.. Word gives shape to a thought, places it into form, and allows it to be further developed. It is a step toward understanding and toward creating feedback. When you speak something, you become aware of it. You can refer back to the word, define it, continue from it, and develop it further. You create a relationship with it. It is similar to writing: as long as a story remains in the mind, it has no form. Only through words does it become concrete and turn into a story—something communicable. You can read it, see images behind it, touch its destinies, and continue to develop it further.
Can the word sometimes also become an obstacle? When a person speaks too much and no longer perceives the word?
Yes. People often speak in order to cover up fear or emptiness. Children, during improvisation, love words—they speak without stopping, because words are an easy place to hide. But very often those words lack content, situation, and action. They lack the spirit that fills the word with meaning. Form without content is empty. Spirit is what gives text or action life. When content is missing, it is just words—sound without meaning. To fill form with content, a person must open space for the word: silence, stopping, listening. Time for filling and for feedback.
DIALOGICAL ACTING AND AUTHENTICITY
How do you view experimental dialogical acting? When there are more people in the space?
That is a question. Doc. Standa Suda is doing experiments with dialogical acting in pairs. That is already more difficult, because I have both an inner partner and I also have to perceive the outer partner. To stay in contact with myself and my inner partner, and at the same time to perceive the outer partner and what emerges between us. That is already a kind of overlap into life, where we are not only with ourselves, but also with others. How to remain authentic, faithful to oneself, and in contact with others.
When we are on ‘stage’ with someone else, does our communication with the inner partner get lost?
Our inner partner is usually kept hidden. It lives in our internal dialogue, in inner comments such as ‘I ruined it,’ ‘I’m afraid,’ ‘I’m ridiculous,’ ‘I’ll show them.’ On stage, or during public presentations, we do not make this inner voice visible. It remains in our inner silent voices. It is interesting to observe politicians, for example, when they speak on camera and when they are off it. They seem like different people. With a mask and without one. In dialogical acting, these inner voices are made visible and conscious. The inner and outer voices communicate with each other, and the person becomes authentic. The masks fall away. In this way, we learn from ourselves by making our inner voices present, or at least becoming aware of them. And not only do we learn through them, but they also guide us further through play. These inner voices, comments, and doubts can become part of the play. A personal dramaturgy emerges, an authentic life. I play my own life role in a broader context. In this way, I become an authentic being—who I am. I hear myself, I hear others. And through play, I can further develop things.
So if someone gets startled or forgets something, should they take it into the play?
Exactly. Either they take it into the play, or they get startled, close themselves off, and the flow of the play is interrupted. In theatre based on a precisely rehearsed text, of course this would not be possible. An actor cannot say to the audience: ‘I messed it up, let’s start again.’ But in authorial performance, even this possibility can exist. Even in actors performing scripted texts, an inner dialogue is always present, it is just not made public. That is why dialogical acting is so unique in the study of dramaturgy and theatre, and why it is studied by students at DAMU. Dialogical acting allows us, through awareness, to discover new things about ourselves. In the dramatic process, we can take them into the play, and in authorial performance that allows it, we can also work with them in front of the audience—use them as material. When a person makes their inner partner visible, lightness, humor, and freedom emerge. We become closer to the audience, because we all share it—doubts, failures, mistakes, the effort to be better. And when this is made visible without the fear of failure, humor arises. Tension is released inside the person, and also between the actor and the audience. It is therapeutic. We are all a bit like clowns. And we discover that in our weaknesses, we are not alone.
Do you think dialogical acting should be taught in schools? And if so — who could teach it?
What do you think?
I think yes. It would be extremely necessary in the school environment. School is often focused on performance, on results, on grades. Children are constantly trying to ‘succeed,’ but they rarely have space just to be themselves. If they had a lesson where they could pause, breathe, and perceive who they are. Where they are accepted as they are. It would help them a lot. I think they would then perceive school differently. But the problem is that there is no one to teach it. Very few people know about it, and very few have personal experience with it.
Psychosomatics is missing in schools. Both teachers and pupils are often disconnected. In the current mainstream education system, body and soul are not integrated. As a result, pupils often learn only because an authority demands it, for grades, to be evaluated, to achieve results. But what is most important is missing: free will, personal responsibility, and creativity.
Moreover, disconnection from the body feels like the worst part to me. Children at school are sitting all the time. When they want to stretch, it is seen as disruption. It is more convenient for teachers, but it takes away the children’s natural movement. The body becomes passive, and as a result the psyche suffers as well.
From this, children can experience feelings of frustration, helplessness, and apathy. They get the sense that they don’t matter, that everything is controlled by someone else—authority, the system, money. And then they start reaching for ‘shiny things,’ things that promise happiness but don’t deliver it. Because they lose themselves; they lose contact with themselves and their inner world. And yet it is precisely contact with oneself, with the body and perception, that is a basic condition of freedom. But without freedom, we cannot be creative, authentic, alive, or responsible—because we do not know who we are.
Do you think there is a chance that this could ever change? That dialogical acting could make its way into schools?
Hard to say. But I believe that any idea that enters the world once does not disappear. Možná ještě nenastal čas, je to jen nějaké zrnko možnosti, nové cesty. Ale i jedno zrnko — jeden učitel, který začne jinak přemýšlet — může něco změnit.
That is a beautiful idea. I think the strength of dialogical acting lies exactly in that. It is not about the result, but about presence and relationship.
Yes. It is not about performance, but about being. And that is perhaps what we need to hear.
Asked by Hana Sršňová, answered by Erika Merjavá.
To be continued in the next issue
