Globe-trotting, physical theatre maker, and performer Ruxandra Cantir, has made Glasgow her home for the past seven years. Her newest work, ‘Pickled Republic’ finds her weaving another absurd tale of preserved vegetables contemplating their mortality. A master of physical transformation, it promises to be a singular night at the theatre! She arrives in Edinburgh later this month, and she was kind enough to sit down for a chat with theQR…
Ruxandra, let’s go to go back to the beginning. Where did the idea for ‘Pickled Republic’ come from, would you say?
Well, I think the initial spark for it came after I heard a story from my uncle in my native Moldova, who was a funeral mourner, who climbed into a coffin to get a picture of herself because she wanted to see what she would look like when she died.
I remember hearing this story and finding it the most inappropriate, but also kind of hilarious. It’s just a really interesting combination of tragedy and comedy at the same time. This became a spark to explore some of this space between the two; the absurdity and surrealism of it all.
Now, you create absurdist character drama, where do these personalities and creations stem from?
Well, I’ve been inhabiting some of these characters, and working with them on and off for a few years. Some of them are fresh, some very new. One of the ones that has been here since the beginning is a peculiar character, a pickled tomato bemoaning that she’s not been eaten yet and that kind of became the basis of the setting.
Again there’s a level of of tragedy and comedy associated with each character in ‘Pickled Republic’. Once I felt she, the tomato, was in the bag, so to say, it was a good indication of kind of the quality or vibe I was looking for in the rest of the card.
That was a few years ago, and since, I’ve slowly but surely created a few characters which I’ve tested in scratch nights and then keep on improving and improving. So now I have a ‘cast’ of different ages, some older, some new for this year. I’ve known, all along, where they would fit in, so I’ve been creating them with a context in mind already which is very useful!
I think that’s the nature of new work. You create, see what works, and build from there.
Absolutely! What opportunities does this continuity in your characters offer to you as a creator?
Luckily a lot of these characters are very physically transformative. This is something I really respond to – I work with masks quite a lot – as a professional physical theatre maker and performer, this is the type of stuff that I get excited by.
I find a lot of truth in a lot of mask work and just movement and physical transformation. So I use costumes a lot that help me transform. What I mean is I don’t just put them on, there’s always an element of transformation. For example, and without giving too much away, I might wear a dress, but in different ways, not putting my limbs in the right way, and this brings forth a really interesting physicality.
This inspires my continuing devising; it gives me certain physical restrictions, and then I understand how the character works, and what they can – and can’t do. This becomes in part a reflection of their inner life as well.
I see, yes, and what is the binding narrative that takes the audience through ‘Pickled Republic’? Is there a balance of theme and artistic freedom?
Well, with ‘Pickled Republic’, I say that it’s set in a pickling jar that’s about to go off. So there’s immediately a lot of rising tension inside the jar, both in terms of how the jar looks, how the jar sounds and the reaction of all its inhabitants as they’re faced with their impending demise.
It’s also set like a bit of a cabaret in the sense that these characters come forth to make their last expressions before going off! It is quite a surrealist, absurdist and abstract take on theatre. So I’ve been quite inspired by the theatre of the absurd and Eugène Ionesco specifically, as well as the surrealist writings of people like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Leonora Carrington. These are people who look at narrative outside of a linear or literal way. I find this way of looking at some of the big existential questions can be truthful and funny.
In a way, it feels more truthful, and I feel more seen when engaging with this type of work. I think the main binding agent, other than it’s me going in and out of each character, is all of their different reactions to their oncoming demise. It’s a joy to shapeshift between all of them and explore what this situation means for them individually.
And do you find when you start from the absurdist and surreal viewpoint, you’re essentially coming at the same issues as ‘mundane’ creators but from the opposite side? They might start with the tragedy of life, and then find the comedy, but you’re inside the comedy already, and looking at the tragedy?
Oh, I would say so: I think that’s spot on William. I definitely think that there’s a way into some serious or existential subject questions through humour. That’s what speaks to me. I’ll bring up the example of that pickled tomato again. I was working with this really stretchy dress. Then I found a way to wear it in a different way that was hilarious, inside this already ridiculous setting. It’s a stupid setting, but in a way, I think it’s more poignant.
It’s not that I expect people to identify with a pickled tomato, but the issues of being discarded, and being unfulfilled are universal! I’m asking the audience to look at profound questions but from a ridiculous point of view. Hopefully, it’ll be successful!
Fingers crossed! So how did you become the creator and performer you are Ruxandra?
I was always fascinated by the more physical comedians growing up. Growing up in Moldova, in Eastern Europe, right at the fall of the Soviet Union, we didn’t get a lot of Western stuff. But some of the stuff that we did get was oddly like Jim Carrey in The Mask and Seinfeld, and then of course Rowan Atkinson’s Mr. Bean.
Then I started discovering Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton: all things that I was drawn to before starting to explore my own training in theatre. I did find that I had a knack for more physical movement and clowning, stuff that’s more based in vulnerability and connection to the audience rather than the verbal.
I think you know in terms of the stereotypes of how actors get cast, I found that limiting: I wanted to explore more weird, funny, silly things that made me laugh! When I saw it made other people laugh, I dived deeper into discovering those physical theatre traditions: clowning, mask work, Commedia dell’arte. It spoke to me, allowed me to shine, but more importantly, showed my vulnerability. That’s where a lot of the clown stuff comes from.
Later I trained with a physical ensemble theatre school in California, and I loved the training. It was a concentrated 3-year master’s programme that changed the way I look at my profession and my career.
And do you feel that having been born in Moldova and going to America, and now Glasgow, that these experiences have stayed with you as you evolve as a creative?
That’s a really interesting question because I think even with this show, my director is asking me to reflect on some of the things that I’ve picked up from these different cultures that have formed my identity over the years. I, of course, welcome all of them because they’ve made me who I am and who I am as a performer. It is sometimes a bit exhausting to try to understand and make sense of all of them, but I do feel that there’s a there’s a lot of great things I’ve picked up from all of them. You know, my family still lives in Moldova. I still go visit there regularly. It’s still a place where the absurd lives with you every day in a way that I haven’t really found in other cultures and it is frustrating I think, if you live there, but it is also just very juicy and really hilarious other times.
In the US, you know, I think the biggest thing I took from there is the amazing community and a certain type of rigour and work ethic that was instilled in me. That was amazing to have because it it became a guidepost in terms of how I work, and how I want to set about my own work.
Now there’s Glasgow, my home for seven years and it is a really generous host. I’ve found, and am finding, another set of like-minded people: that’s amazing. I think Scotland is not often celebrated for its physical theatre community, but it’s small but mighty and there’s a lot going on!
I think even in the last few years, we’re seeing it grow and being part of that growth has been really inspiring. It’s been a delight picking up some of the Glaswegian humour here and there: that’s been amazing. You know, it’s stuff, especially in terms of the verbal banter and the verbal wit, not something I’m always good at, but it has a degree of absurdity built in. I love it, and it’s my home now.
Now ‘Pickled Republic’ is on the road, touring venues, is that something you look forward to?
Do you know, I really do! I’ve just done so with Scissor Kick, the producers I’m working with for this show. I worked with them on “Two in a Barrell” for young audiences back in the Spring, which we also toured. We managed to go to Orkney and Shetland and all over the place. And I really, really enjoyed being on the tour.
It gives you a very clear purpose every day. That’s ironic, isn’t it? We’re talking about ‘Pickled Republic’ which also explores the theme of ‘purpose’, and finding meaning. Touring work gives you a purpose, and as an artist who constantly works on their own practice, I thrive amidst the nitty gritty of putting work on. You get better at it every time, but it’s also new work! You get to see how it lands in different places and to improve it in different ways.
Maybe a little tweak here and there – I quite enjoy this. We don’t always, as artists in Scotland get the chance to play a show more than two or three times. It feels quite luxurious to be able to enjoy the show 15 times in different places: I love it!
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