I am not what I was. I was not what I should have been. I did not become what I should have become. I did not keep what I should have kept.
I went to the theater. I heard this piece. I spoke this piece. I wrote this piece.
KASPAR
1 phase Can Kaspar, the owner of one sentence, begin and begin to do something with this sentence? 2 phase Can Kaspar do something against other sentences with his sentence? 3 phase Can Kaspar at least hold his own against other sentences with his sentence? 4 phase Can Kaspar defend himself from other sentences and keep quiet even though other sentences prod him to speak? 5 phase Can Kaspar only become aware of what he speaks through speaking? 6 phase Can Kaspar, the owner of sentences, do something with these sentences, not only to other sentences but also to the objects of the other sentences? 7 phase Can Kaspar bring himself into order with sentences about order, or rather, with ordered sentences? 8 phase Can Kaspar, from the order of a single sentence, derive a whole series of sentences, a series that represents a comprehensive order? 9 phase Can Kaspar learn what, in each instance, is the model upon which an infinite number of sentences about order can be based? 10 phase Can Kaspar, with the sentence model he has learned, make the objects accessible to himself or become himself accessible to the objects? 11 phase Can Kaspar, by means of sentences, make his contribution to the great community of sentences? 12 phase Can Kaspar be brought to the point where, with rhyming sentences, he will find rhyme and reason in the objects? 13 phase Can Kaspar put questions to himself? 14 phase Can Kaspar, with uninhibited sentences which he applies to his old inhibited sentences, reverse the inverted world of these sentences? 15 phase Can Kaspar defend himself at least with an inverted world of sentences against inverted sentences about the world? Or: Can Kaspar, by inverting inverted sentences, at least avoid the false appearance of rightness? 16 phase Who is Kaspar now? Kaspar, who is now Kaspar? What is now, Kaspar? What is now Kaspar, Kaspar?
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Ernst Jandl
The play Kaspar does not show how IT REALLY IS or REALLY WAS with Kaspar Hauser. It shows what is POSSIBLE with someone. It shows how someone can be made to speak through speaking. The play could also be called speech torture. To formalize this torture it is suggested that a kind of magic eye be constructed above the ramp. This eye, without however diverting the audience’s attention from the events on stage, indicates, by blinking, the degree of vehemence with which the PROTAGONIST is addressed. The more vehemently he defends himself, the more vehemently he is addressed, the more vehemently the magic eye blinks. (Or one might employ a jerking indicator of the kind used on scales for tests of strength in amusement parks.) Although the sense of what the voices addressing the protagonist say should always be completely comprehensible, their manner of speaking should be that of voices which in reality have a technical medium interposed between themselves and the listeners: telephone voices, radio or television announcers’ voices, the voice that tells the time on the phone, the voices of automatic answering services of all kinds, the speech mannerisms of sports commentators, of stadium announcers, of narrators in the more endearing cartoons, of announcers of train arrivals and departures, of interviewers, of gym teachers who by the way they speak make their directions correspond to the sequence of the gymnastic movements, of language course records, of policemen as they speak through bullhorns at demonstrations, etc. etc. These manners of speaking may all be applied to the text, but only in such a way that they clarify the SENSE or NONSENSE of what is being said. The audience need not be aware which manner of speaking is being used at any given moment, but etc. At the same time, the miniature scenes should be projected, enlarged, on the back of the stage.
Kaspar (Kasper means clown in German) does not resemble any other comedian; rather, when he comes on stage he resembles Frankenstein’s monster (or King Kong).
The front curtain is already drawn. The audience does not see the stage as a representation of a room that exists somewhere, but as a representation of a stage. The stage represents the stage. On first glance, the objects on the stage look theatricaclass="underline" not because they imitate other objects, but because the way they are situated with respect to one another does not correspond to their usual arrangement in reality. The objects, although genuine (made of wood, steel, cloth, etc), are instantly recognizable as props. They are play objects. They have no history. The audience cannot imagine that, before they came in and saw the stage, some tale had already taken place on it. At most they can imagine that the stage hands have moved objects hither and thither. Nor should the audience be able to imagine that the props on stage will be part of a play that pretends to take place anywhere except on stage: they should recognize at once that they will witness an event that plays only on stage and not in some other reality. They will not experience a story but watch a theatrical event. This event will last until the curtain comes together at the end of the piece: because no story will take place, the audience will not be in a position to imagine that there is a sequel to the, story. The stage should look something like this: the backdrop of the stage consists of a curtain of the same size and fabric as the front curtain. The folds of the curtain are vertical and plentiful, so the audience has difficulty distinguishing the place where the curtain parts. The wings are bare. The props are in front of the backdrop: they are obviously actors’ props. They look new, so the audience won’t think they are seeing the representation of a junkshop; and to avoid this possibility, the objects are in their normal positions: the chairs are straight up, the broom is leaning, the cushions lie flat, the drawer is where it belongs in the table. However, so the audience won’t think it is seeing the representation of a home-furnishing exhibition, the objects are situated without any obvious relationship to each other; they stand there tastelessly, so the audience recognizes a stage in the objects on display. The chairs stand far from the table, as though they had nothing to do with it; they do not stand at the usual angle to the table or at a normal angle toward each other (they should not, however, give a picture of disorder). The table and its drawer face the audience. Elsewhere on stage there is another table, smaller, lower, with only three legs. Center stage is empty. Two chairs stand elsewhere, each with a different backrest, one with a cushion, one without. Somewhere else is a sofa with room for almost five persons. Half the sofa (from the vantage point of those sitting in the center of the auditorium) should be behind the wings, thus indicating backstage. Elsewhere there is a rocking chair. Somewhere else, a broom and shovel, one of them bearing the clearly discernible word STAGE or the name of the theater. Somewhere else, a wastepaper basket with the same inscription. On the large table, but not in the middle, stands a broad-necked bottle with water in it, and next to it a glass. At the back of the stage is a stylish closet with a large key in the lock. None of the props has any particularly unusual characteristic that might puzzle the beholder. In front, in the center of the apron, is a microphone.