We live in a world increasingly tyrannized by the screen, by our phones, by our tablets, by our televisions and our computers. We can have any experience that we want, but feel nothing. We can have as many friends as we want, but have nobody to shake hands with.
Živimo u svetu u kojem sve više vladaju ekrani, naši telefoni, tableti, televizori i kompjuteri. Možemo da doživimo šta god želimo, ali ne osećamo ništa. Možemo da imamo koliko god prijatelja želimo, ali nemamo sa kime da se rukujemo.
I want to take you to a different kind of world, the world of the imagination, where, using this most powerful tool that we have, we can transform both our physical surroundings, but in doing so, we can change forever how we feel and how we feel about the people that we share the planet with.
Htela bih da vas odvedem u drugačiji svet, svet mašte, gde pomoću najmoćnijeg sredstva koje imamo možemo da transformišemo svoje fizičko okruženje, ali na taj način možemo i zauvek promeniti kako se osećamo i šta osećamo prema ljudima sa kojima delimo planetu.
My company, Artichoke, which I cofounded in 2006, was set up to create moments. We all have moments in our lives, and when we're on our deathbeds, we're not going to remember the daily commute to work on the number 38 bus or our struggle to find a parking space every day when we go to the shop. We're going to remember those moments when our kid took their first step or when we got picked for the football team or when we fell in love. So Artichoke exists to create moving, ephemeral moments that transform the physical world using the imagination of the artist to show us what is possible. We create beauty amongst ruins. We reexamine our history. We create moments to which everyone is invited, either to witness or to take part.
Moja firma, Artičoka, čiji sam bila suosnivač 2006. godine, bila je namenjena da stvara trenutke. Svi imamo trenutke u svom životu, i kada smo na samrtnoj postelji, nećemo se setiti svakodnevnog putovanja na posao autobusom broj 38, niti borbe da nađemo mesto za parking svakog dana kad idemo u kupovinu. Setićemo se onih trenutaka kada je naše dete prohodalo, ili kada su nas izabrali za fudbalski tim, ili kada smo se zaljubili. Artičoka dakle postoji da bi stvorila dirljive, efemerne trenutke koji transformišu fizički svet, koristeći maštu umetnika da nam pokaže šta je moguće. Mi stvaramo lepotu među ruševinama. Preispitujemo našu istoriju. Stvaramo trenutke na koje su svi pozvani, bilo da prisustvuju ili da učestvuju.
It all started for me way back in the 1990s, when I was appointed as festival director in the tiny British city of Salisbury. You'll probably have heard of it. Here's the Salisbury Cathedral, and here's the nearby Stonehenge Monument, which is world-famous. Salisbury is a city that's been dominated for hundreds of years by the Church, the Conservative Party and the army. It's a place where people really love to observe the rules. So picture me on my first year in the city, cycling the wrong way down a one-way street, late. I'm always late. It's a wonder I've even turned up today.
Za mene je sve ovo počelo još 1990-ih, kada sam postavljena za organizatora festivala u malom britanskom gradu Solsberiju. Verovatno ste čuli za njega. Evo katedrale u Solsberiju, a evo i obližnjeg spomenika Stounhendž, koji je poznat u svetu. Solsberi je grad kojim je stotinama godina dominirala crkva, Konzervativna partija i vojska. To je mesto gde ljudi zaista vole da se pridržavaju pravila. Zamislite mene prve godine u gradu, kako vozim bicikl u pogrešnom smeru niz jednosmernu ulicu, i kasnim. Uvek kasnim. Čudo je da sam se uopšte pojavila danas.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
A little old lady on the sidewalk helpfully shouted at me, "My dear, you're going the wrong way!"
Jedna sićušna starica na trotoaru mi je susretljivo doviknula: „Draga, ideš u pogrešnom smeru!“
Charmingly -- I thought -- I said, "Yeah, I know."
Šarmantno, mislila sam, rekoh: „Da, znam.“
"I hope you die!" she screamed.
„Crkla dabogda!“ - povikala je.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And I realized that this was a place where I was in trouble. And yet, a year later, persuasion, negotiation -- everything I could deploy -- saw me producing the work. Not a classical concert in a church or a poetry reading, but the work of a French street theater company who were telling the story of Faust, "Mephistomania," on stilts, complete with handheld pyrotechnics.
Shvatila sam da ću ovde imati problem. A ipak, godinu dana kasnije, uz ubeđivanje, pregovaranje, sve što sam mogla da upotrebim, uspevala sam da obavim posao. Ne da organizujem klasični koncert u crkvi ili čitanje poezije, već da francuska kompanija uličnog pozorišta ispriča priču o Faustu, „Mefistomaniju“, na štulama, sa pirotehnikom u rukama.
The day after, the same little old lady stopped me in the street and said, "Were you responsible for last night?"
Dan kasnije, ista starica me je zaustavila na ulici i rekla: „Jesi li ti odgovorna za ono od sinoć?“
I backed away.
Ustuknula sam.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
"Yes."
„Da.“
"When I heard about it," she said, "I knew it wasn't for me. But Helen, my dear, it was."
„Kada sam čula za to,“ rekla je, „znala sam da nije za mene. Ali Helen, draga, bilo je.“
So what had happened? Curiosity had triumphed over suspicion, and delight had banished anxiety.
Pa, šta se desilo? Radoznalost je nadjačala sumnju, a oduševljenje je proteralo teskobu.
So I wondered how one could transfer these ideas to a larger stage and started on a journey to do the same kind of thing to London. Imagine: it's a world city. Like all our cities, it's dedicated to toil, trade and traffic. It's a machine to get you to work on time and back, and we're all complicit in wanting the routines to be fixed and for everybody to be able to know what's going to happen next. And yet, what if this amazing city could be turned into a stage, a platform for something so unimaginable that would somehow transform people's lives? We do these things often in Britain. I'm sure you do them wherever you're from. Here's Horse Guards Parade. And here's something that we do often. It's always about winning things. It's about the marathon or winning a war or a triumphant cricket team coming home. We close the streets. Everybody claps. But for theater? Not possible.
Zapitala sam se kako bi se ove ideje mogle preneti na veći nivo i započela sam putovanje da uradim to isto u Londonu. Zamislite: to je svetski grad. Kao i svi naši gradovi, posvećen je radu, trgovini i saobraćaju. To je mašina koja treba da vas na vreme odveze na posao i vrati nazad, i svi smo saučesnici u želji da rutina bude učvršćena i da svi mogu da znaju šta će se sledeće dogoditi. A ipak, šta ako bi se ovaj čudesni grad pretvorio u pozornicu, platformu za nešto toliko nazamislivo da bi to nekako transformisalo živote ljudi? Često radimo takve stvari u Britaniji. Sigurna sam da to radite u mestima odakle ste. Evo parade konjičke garde. A evo i nečega što često radimo. Uvek se radi o pobeđivanju. Radi se o maratonu, pobeđivanju u ratu ili pobednički kriket tim koji se vraća kući. Zatvaramo ulice. Svi aplaudiraju. Ali za pozorište? Nemoguće.
Except a story told by a French company: a saga about a little girl and a giant elephant that came to visit for four days. And all I had to do was persuade the public authorities that shutting the city for four days was something completely normal.
Osim kada se radi o priči francuske trupe, sagi o devojčici i ogromnom slonu koji su došli u posetu na četiri dana. Samo je trebalo da ubedim javne zvaničnike da je zatvaranje grada na četiri dana nešto sasvim normalno.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
No traffic, just people enjoying themselves, coming out to marvel and witness this extraordinary artistic endeavor by the French theater company Royal de Luxe.
Bez saobraćaja, samo ljudi koji se zabavljaju, koji dolaze da se dive i prisustvuju ovom izuzetnom umetničkom poduhvatu francuske pozorišne trupe Rojal deluks.
It was a seven-year journey, with me saying to a group of men -- almost always men -- sitting in a room, "Eh, it's like a fairy story with a little girl and this giant elephant, and they come to town for four days and everybody gets to come and watch and play." And they would go, "Why would we do this? Is it for something? Is it celebrating a presidential visit? Is it the Entente Cordiale between France and England? Is it for charity? Are you trying to raise money?" And I'd say, "None of these things." And they'd say, "Why would we do this?"
Bio je to sedam godina dug put, pri čemu sam govorila pred grupom muškaraca - gotovo uvek muškaraca - koji su sedeli u prostoriji: „Eh, to je kao bajka sa devojčicom i ogromnim slonom, oni dođu u grad na četiri dana i svi mogu da dođu, da gledaju i zabavljaju se.“ A oni bi rekli: „Zašto bismo to uradili? Da li je povodom nečega? Da li je za proslavu posete nekog predsednika? Da li je zbog anglo-francuskog sporazuma? Da li je u dobrotvorne svrhe? Da li pokušavate da prikupite novac?“ Ja bih rekla: „Ništa od toga.“ A oni bi rekli: „Zašto bismo to radili?“
But after four years, this magic trick, this extraordinary thing happened. I was sitting in the same meeting I'd been to for four years, saying, "Please, please, may I?" Instead of which, I didn't say, "Please." I said, "This thing that we've been talking about for such a long time, it's happening on these dates, and I really need you to help me." This magic thing happened. Everybody in the room somehow decided that somebody else had said yes.
Ali nakon četiri godine, desio se čaroban trik, izvanredna stvar. Sedela sam na istom sastanku na koji sam išla četiri godine, govoreći: „Molim vas, mogu li?“ Umesto što nisam rekla „molim vas“, već: „Ono o čemu smo govorili već duže vreme desiće se u ovom periodu, i zaista mi je potrebna vaša pomoć.“ Nešto magično se dogodilo. Svi u prostoriji su nekako presudili da se neko drugi već složio.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
They decided that they were not being asked to take responsibility, or maybe the bus planning manager was being asked to take responsibility for planning the bus diversions, and the council officer was being asked to close the roads, and the transport for London people were being asked to sort out the Underground. All these people were only being asked to do the thing that they could do that would help us. Nobody was being asked to take responsibility. And I, in my innocence, thought, "Well, I'll take responsibility," for what turned out to be a million people on the street.
Zaključili su da se od njih ne traži da preuzmu odgovornost, ili je možda zatraženo od rukovodioca za upravljanje autobusima da bude odgovoran za planiranje preusmeravanja autobusa, i da je od predstavnika odbora zatraženo da zatvori puteve, i da su ljudi iz londonskog prevoza zaduženi da srede stvari vezane za metro. Jedino što se od njih tražilo je da urade ono što su mogli, a što bi nama pomoglo. Nikome nije zatraženo da preuzme odgovornost. I ja sam u svojoj naivnosti pomislila: „Pa, ja ću da prihvatim odgovornost“ za ono što se na kraju pretvorilo u milion ljudi na ulici.
It was our first show.
Bila je to naša prva predstava.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
It was our first show, and it changed the nature of the appreciation of culture, not in a gallery, not in a theater, not in an opera house, but live and on the streets, transforming public space for the broadest possible audience, people who would never buy a ticket to see anything.
Bio je to prvi nastup koji je promenio prirodu uvažavanja kulture, ne u galeriji, ne u pozorištu, ne u zgradi opere, već žive kulture, na ulici, koja je preobrazila javni prostor za najširu moguću publiku, ljude koji nikada ne bi kupili kartu da bi nešto videli.
So there we were. We'd finished, and we've continued to produce work of this kind. As you can see, the company's work is astonishing, but what's also astonishing is the fact that permission was granted. And you don't see any security. And this was nine months after terrible terrorist bombings that had ripped London apart.
I tako je to bilo. Završili smo i nastavili smo da stvaramo ovakve stvari. Kao što vidite, ono što radi ova trupa je neverovatno, ali ono što je takođe neverovatno je činjenica da je dozvola odobrena. I uopšte nije bilo obezbeđenja. A to je bilo devet meseci nakon užasnih terorističkih bombardovanja koji su rastrgli London.
So I began to wonder whether it was possible to do this kind of stuff in even more complicated circumstances. We turned our attention to Northern Ireland, the North of Ireland, depending on your point of view. This is a map of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, the island to the left. For generations, it's been a place of conflict, the largely Catholic republic in the south and the largely Protestant loyalist community -- hundreds of years of conflict, British troops on the streets for over 30 years. And now, although there is a peace process, this is today in this city, called Londonderry if you're a loyalist, called Derry if you're a Catholic. But everybody calls it home. And I began to wonder whether there was a way in which the community tribalism could be addressed through art and the imagination.
Počela sam da se pitam da li je moguće uraditi ovakve stvari u još složenijim okolnostima. Usmerili smo pažnju ka Severnoj Irskoj, ili ka severu Irske, u zavisnosti od tačke gledišta. Ovo je mapa Engleske, Škotske, Velsa i Irske, ostrva sa leve strane. Generacijama je to bilo mesto sukoba, većinom katolička republika na jugu i zajednica većinom protestantskih lojalista - stotine godina konflikta, britanskih trupa na ulicama više od 30 godina. A sada, iako je u toku proces mira, ovo stoji danas u ovom gradu zvanom Londonderi ako ste lojalista, a Deri ako ste katolik. Ali svi ga nazivaju domom. Počela sam da se pitam da li postoji način na koji bi se mogao rešiti tribalizam zajednica kroz umetnost i maštu.
This is what the communities do, every summer, each community. This is a bonfire filled with effigies and insignia from the people that they hate on the other side. This is the same from the loyalist community. And every summer, they burn them. They're right in the center of town.
Evo šta zajednice rade, svakog leta, svaka zajednica. Ovo je lomača ispunjena slikama i simbolima ljudi koje mrze na drugoj strani. Ovo je isto to iz zajednice lojalista. I svakog leta ih spale. Nalaze se u samom centru grada.
So we turned to here, to the Nevada desert, to Burning Man, where people also do bonfires, but with a completely different set of values. Here you see the work of David Best and his extraordinary temples, which are built during the Burning Man event and then incinerated on the Sunday.
Usmerili smo se u ovom pravcu, ka pustinji u Nevadi, festivalu Burning Man, gde ljudi takođe pale lomače, ali sa potpuno različitim skupom vrednosti. Ovde vidite radove Dejvida Besta i njegove izvanredne hramove, koji se grade za vreme događaja Burning Man, a potom budu spaljeni u nedelju.
So we invited him and his community to come, and we recruited from both sides of the political and religious divide: young people, unemployed people, people who would never normally come across each other or speak to each other. And out of their extraordinary work rose a temple to rival the two cathedrals that exist in the town, one Catholic and one Protestant. But this was a temple to no religion, for everyone, for no community, but for everyone. And we put it in this place where everyone told me nobody would come. It was too dangerous. It sat between two communities. I just kept saying, "But it's got such a great view."
Pozvala sam njega i njegovu zajednicu da dođu i prikupili smo ljude sa obe strane političke i verske podele: mlade, nezaposlene, ljude koji se inače ne bi sreli niti razgovarali jedni sa drugima. I od njihovog izuzetnog rada izdigao se hram kao takmac dvema katedralama koje postoje u gradu, od kojih je jedna katolička, a druga protestantska. Ali ovo je bio hram bez religije, za svakoga, bez zajednice, ali za svakoga. Smestili smo ga na mesto gde su mi svi govorili da niko neće doći. Bilo je previše opasno. Nalazilo se između dve zajednice. Uporno sam govorila: „Ali ima tako divan pogled.“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And again, that same old question: Why wouldn't we do this?
I opet, ono isto pitanje: zašto ne bismo to radili?
What you see in the picture is the beginning of 426 primary school children who were walked up the hill by the head teacher, who didn't want them to lose this opportunity. And just as happens in the Nevada desert, though in slightly different temperatures, the people of this community, 65,000 of them, turned out to write their grief, their pain, their hope, their hopes for the future, their love. Because in the end, this is only about love.
Ono što vidite na slici su prvi redovi 426 učenika osnovne škole koje je doveo uz ovo brdo njihov direktor koji nije želeo da propuste tu priliku. Baš kao što se dešava u pustinji u Nevadi, mada sa malom razlikom u temperaturi, ljudi u ovoj zajednici, njih 65 000, pojavili su se da pišu o svom tugovanju, o svom bolu, svojim nadama, nadama vezanim za budućnost, o svojoj ljubavi. Jer, na kraju krajeva, ovo je samo zbog ljubavi.
They live in a post-conflict society: lots of post-traumatic stress, high suicide. And yet, for this brief moment -- and it would be ridiculous to assume that it was more than that -- somebody like Kevin -- a Catholic whose father was shot when he was nine, upstairs in bed -- Kevin came to work as a volunteer. And he was the first person to embrace the elderly Protestant lady who came through the door on the day we opened the temple to the public. It rose up. It sat there for five days. And then we chose -- from our little tiny band of nonsectarian builders, who had given us their lives for this period of months to make this extraordinary thing -- we chose from them the people who would incinerate it.
Oni žive u postkonfliktnom društvu u kome je mnogo posttraumatskog stresa, veliki broj samoubistava. A ipak, na ovaj kratak momenat - a bilo bi smešno pretpostaviti da je bilo nešto više od toga - neko poput Kevina - katolika čijeg su oca upucali kada je imao devet godina, na spratu u krevetu - Kevin je došao da radi kao volonter. Bio je prvi koji je zagrlio stariju protestantkinju koja je ušla na vrata toga dana kada smo hram otvorili za javnost. Uzdigao se. Stajao je tamo pet dana. A zatim smo iz naše grupice graditelja koji nisu pripadali nijednoj religiji, a koji su nam dali svoje živote na ovaj period od nekoliko meseci da bi napravili ovu izuzetnu stvar, odabrali ljude koji će ga zapaliti.
And here you see the moment when, witnessed by 15,000 people who turned out on a dark, cold, March evening, the moment when they decided to put their enmity behind them, to inhabit this shared space, where everybody had an opportunity to say the things that had been unsayable, to say out loud, "You hurt me and my family, but I forgive you." And together, they watched as members of their community let go of this thing that was so beautiful, but was as hard to let go of as those thoughts and feelings that had gone into making it.
Ovde vidite trenutak kada, u prisustvu 15 000 ljudi koji su došli mračne, hladne martovske večeri, trenutak kada su rešili da neprijateljstvo ostave za sobom, da nastane ovaj zajednički prostor, gde su svi imali priliku da kažu stvari koje su bile neizrecive, da glasno kažu: „Povredili ste mene i moju porodicu, ali opraštam vam.“ I zajedno su posmatrali dok su članovi njihove zajednice napuštali ovu stvar koja je bila tako lepa, ali ju je bilo isto tako teško napustiti kao i misli i osećanja koje su unete u njeno stvaranje.
(Music)
(Muzika)
Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)