Margarita Pita: self, free, illusions, of, will / please place in the right order

A research project that explores immersive performative praxis as a quest towards anticipatory illumination. Inspired by Ernst Bloch’s utopian philosophy (The Principle of Hope, MIT Press, 1986), initiation rituals, zen practices and psychedelic journeys, I am looking to create an experiential game for performers and participants alike, where we can explore what is often referred to as “heightened states of existence”. What lies beyond the “normal” experience of our everyday life? What is the nature of this self-centered reality and can we exist without it? Can other spaces of perception exist and how can we achieve a more direct and primitive contact with the world? This practice is an invitation to all of us stagnated, anxious, sleepwalking people of our times to come out and play. To explore our bodies as a site of senses and our minds as landscapes of freedom. To enjoy time and space and maybe even find a way to ‘come to ourselves’ and to hope; that rare possession that once collected and shared, it is said to act as an explosive to the status quo’s practices and ideologies.

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

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    Photo: Pinelopi Gerasimou

Creator's note

This research was sparked by a text that found me at a transitory and rather desperate moment, both for me personally but also for the world as we knew it: the beginning of the second lockdown in Greece. The text was an essay on radical hope, written by German socialist philosopher Ernst Bloch; at the time, his words struck me as a timely message from history itself:

“Fraudulent hope is one of the greatest malefactors, even enervators, of the human race, concretely genuine hope its most dedicated benefactor. Even a well-founded hope though can be disappointed, otherwise it would not be hope. In fact, hope never guarantees anything. It is characteristically daring and points openly to possibilities that in part depend on the chance for their fulfillment. Out of frustration and disappointment, it can learn to estimate the tendencies of processes that it had possibly estimated incorrectly. Hope can learn and become smarter through damaging experiences, but it can never be driven off course. The substance of its goal is ‘real humanism’ and since this goal is not present, one can neither speak about it out of experience nor formulate it completely. Still, it is possible to determine the direction toward real humanism. It is indicated precisely in the oldest conscious dream of humankind: a new society where men and women live, work, and above all enjoy a world which has become a Thing For Us, where man is walking upright.”

Bloch talks about hope as a practice and a skill that, if traced and followed in life’s manifestations, can bring us closer to what is ‘Not Yet Conscious’ to us, a humanistic utopia that can be concretely built when imagined and pursued. Some fragments of these wishful traces can be found in art, religion, and places rather unexplored – like needs, wishes, dreams, or daydreams.

Fascinated with the concept of the ‘Not Yet Conscious’ as a liminal space, I started experimenting with guided daydreams to tap into my own and my audience members’ (day)dreams, in a one-to-one performative experience format. I was curious to understand what is the experience of hope on a personal level and if and how it is connected to the collective. My first sharing of the experiment was through the first Onassis AiR Open Day event, where in an intimate space I invited audience members one by one to participate in a (day)dreaming experience and respond to some questions about hope; hope as an experience, as light, texture, and practice. My most precious and radically unanswered question that emerged from this series of performative experiences was: What do you hope FOR?

Mark Fischer has said that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. Eons before Fischer’s time, Heraclitus would ponder: Whoever does not hope for the unhoped-for, will not find it.

At the time of the world pandemic, many saw a chance for the late capitalism paradigm to shift towards a more ‘humanistic’ society, one that places the environment, the social rights. and the interconnectedness of species in the epicenter of the ‘day after’ agendas. Amongst numerous deaths, the economic collapse, a loss of trust in the governments, and a generalized sense of anger and despair, many foresaw the opportunity for a world change – some for the better, some for the worse. Whereas some saw the opportunity for networks of knowledge and solidarity, or the assertion of global social rights, others saw the opportunity for profitable monopolies and political oppressions in the name of security. The unprecedented collective experience and the pause of life as we knew it gave space for reflection on future possibilities.


The Laboratory of Possibilities

Returning to the question “What do you hope FOR” for the second Onassis AiR Open Day, I was drawn to experiment in the creation of a space where one (or more) participant(s) are free to explore their wishful images for themselves, in a laboratory of possibilities. To do this, I needed to employ the imagination of the audience members/participants, but also their intention – both on a cognitive and a physical level. I found that creating the setting of a “game” could be one of the keys that could “give permission” to the participants to enter the space with a light and playful openness. Much inspired by RPG gameplay formats, I created a basic structure for a game to explore hope through a daydream, a venture into the world of “Not Yet Conscious.” My references were drawn equally from the gaming world (in particular the pen-and-paper game in “Changeling”), as well as from the world of psychedelic experiences – a field I found particularly useful for engaging with the world of possibilities.

I meant to explore the psychedelic experiences’ research through a methodical approach that could give me tools for my work, which is why I contacted the Center for Psychedelic Research at the Imperial College of London. I wanted to understand which elements compose the psychedelic experience –outside the use of mind-altering substances themselves– and if such elements could be employed in an experience like the one I wanted to design, an experience to explore hope. Leor Roseman, a PhD Researcher at the Center was more than generous to me, providing me with a wealth of information surrounding the importance of the design of the experience itself – he highlighted the importance of the preparatory stage before the experience and the integrative stage after it. In the world of psychedelic research, much like in rituals and even in the theater, the importance of the set and the setting are highlighted (to quote Ido Hartogsohn’s book “American Trip: Set, Setting, and the Psychedelic Experience in the Twentieth Century”).

The set refers to the intention or the mindset of the one entering the experience, i.e., arguably the most important filter of the experience to follow, and it can be facilitated through the preparatory stage. The setting refers to the environment where the experience is taking place, the person that accompanies the one entering it, as well as the closing of the experience, the integrative stage. This format is methodically researched nowadays as part of psychedelic research across the world (my main sources are taken from the Center for Psychedelic Research at the Imperial College of London and from the MIND Foundation in Berlin), but they have also been applied for years in different variations and extents in shamanic rituals, in retreats, and even is spiritual practices, like meditation or zen. A wealth of information and ritual practices across the world came from my deep research in Vincent Moon’s work of ethnographic filmmaking, which pointed towards a similar direction with the scientific approach regarding the stages of the experience (preparation, experience, integration) as well as the importance of the auditory stimuli for such experiences of “revelation,” regardless of the use of mind-altering substances or not.

These discoveries prompted me to explore the audio-spatial element in designing my own game experience through the use of my voice, minimal sounds, and a semi-personal connection to each participant through the use of synchronous audio guidance streamed in their ears. I found that audio guidance during the daydream experience, along with the environment, can largely affect the experience of the audience members/participants.

My most recent source of inspiration regarding creating the performative game experience “Dreams of A Better Life” has been my meeting with the Dramaturg and Onassis AiR Mentor Igor Dobričić, who through his strenuous dramaturgical questions, helped me reframe my perspective as the creator of this experience and my role in it. This has been a very useful lens informing much of my current development of the work and the choices on the audio content and the stages of the experience. Along with his discerning eye on the spatial design elements of the experience, he has helped me develop a clearer understanding of the dramaturgy of the space itself as a powerful setting for the exploration of hope.

To return to Bloch’s prophecy, through the exploration of hope we may denounce the idolatry of death and injustice that infest the world, and in so doing, direct ourselves to the real utopian latency and potentiality within ourselves. We may recognize our role in vitalizing this hope by engaging in direct action against unjust structures of power.

So, my guiding research axis further develops: Where/How can we explore our hope (for) and dream (of) a better life?