Recently, I led a community group in a two-month Forum Theatre workshop. Deeply inspired by my training with “Theatre for Living,” I adopted a very different approach from previous years, embarking on a creative journey with the participants.
The core of the workshop involved spending a significant amount of time using Image Theatre to explore their relationship with and experiences of oppression—an oppression that was not limited to violence but also included the powerlessness of being a bystander. I adhered to the core principle from David Diamond’s work: “not naming the image.” Whenever a frozen image resonated with the majority of participants, I would pause and invite everyone to share their own associations, emphasizing that there were no right or wrong answers and no judgment. At the same time, the creator of the image is not allowed to “reveal” its original meaning, because whatever the viewers see is, for them, the truth.
We often spend 20 to 30 minutes on a single image, using questions to expand the group’s imagination and their connections to reality. Ultimately, the process was no longer about the creator’s personal story, but became a collective exercise in deepening perspectives, fostering profound communication, and cultivating self-understanding.
Midway through the workshop, I asked the participants about their most profound takeaways, and their feedback affirmed the method’s impact. One member shared, “I used to see only one story in an image, but others’ sharing always brought me to scenarios I had never considered. This exchange made me think about an issue in such a multi-faceted way for the first time.” Another said, “I never thought of myself as an empathetic person, but your questions guided me to step into the character’s shoes. I had never tried to empathize with someone so deeply. This has also helped me in my daily life to try and feel and understand things from others’ perspectives.”
This methodology also extended to our script rehearsals. I often had them put down their scripts and return to the games and exercises to delve deeper into the motivations behind each character’s actions. After these exercises, when they picked up their scripts again, their performances were noticeably more fluid. The actors were no longer merely “acting,” but were truly “being” the characters, allowing their emotions to flow naturally.
By applying David’s philosophy, I came to a clearer realization that I was practicing “Applied Theatre.” While the final performance is certainly an important part of theatre, the rehearsal process itself is, more importantly, a community dialogue conducted through the art of drama. My responsibility is simply to be purely curious about each character’s motivations and emotions, and from that curiosity, to ask the right questions—and the ability to ask good questions is a skill that truly requires honing the acuity of one’s mind. This process of questioning, in itself, catalyzes one profound conversation and reflection after another.
On one hand, I feel fortunate that the participants were able to experience a kind of deep dialogue that is rare in daily life. On the other hand, it also makes me reflect deeply: our community is in such great need of more spaces like this, where authentic conversations can happen.
*The content of this article was conceptualized by the author, with AI assistance for some of the editing and translation.
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