The palette of characters in Stanislaw (Ignacy) Witkiewicz’s play The Shoemakers (Szewcy, 1931-34) seems almost too grotesque and gruesomely impalpable to bear (any) resemblance to the way we view “our” humanity. Even the old master shoemaker Sajetan loses his appeal as a representational artisan, a man of revolutionary thought, once he succumbs to the allurements of power he has seemingly attained by “hammering away” with the previously repressive social system. However, if we allow ourselves to see past the confines of our somewhat prudent social principals, we can approach Witkiewicz’s world and its inhabitants on a sociohistorically constructive basis.
The content and structure of The Shoemakers marks a decisive departure for the artist who sought to bring the principals of Pure Form to the theatre. This conscious choice for the versatile Witkacy points to the artist’s acknowledgement of the changing political and social reality of his Euro-centric world in the pre-WW II 1930s. With Hitler’s reign in Germany and Stalin’s hold of the Soviet Union, Mussolini’s enchantment of Italy and the growing unrest among the underclasses (the workers, the peasants) in other European capitalist societies, Witkiewicz’s belief in the redemptive power of art, philosophy and religion were challenged to a point of no return. Thus, when we encounter the commiseration of his players and their on-going conflagration with derisive angst, unrequited passion, futile desire, and ultimate boredom, what we are left with is a horrific sensation that this very personal final statement by a man, an artist who could no longer breathe in his environment, is more poignant than any historical record of the times.
There are no protagonists in The Shoemakers; everyone is caught in a cyclical limbo, endlessly waiting for something, for anything to happen. At the same time, as Witkiewicz’s characters engage in unnerving polemics over the “unimportant” things (since language is an empty vessel which condones no relevant messages), a new breed of man adorns the stage: the Hyperworkoid. This mechanized carrion who lives to serve the new state that master Sajetan and his apprentices have helped bring to life only reaffirms the already presupposed realization that the final stage of “our” humanity is one of static retreat rather than dynamic outburst, violent or otherwise. Such a bleak portrayal of humanity’s emersion into a negation of its own vibrancy and varied dynamics, set against a background of a specific sociohistoric context, prefigures the horror of, on the one hand, the atrocities of the coming war, and on the other hand, the future mechanization of human emotions/actions/doings/artistry.
We take pride in the choices we make as liberated human beings. We choose democratic principles, we choose popular culture goods, we choose our own trajectory of life. Needless to say, we like to think that we choose art which enlightens us and speaks for what we have accomplished or what we hope to pursue in the near future. Somewhere in between all of our decision-making, we forget how culturally conditioned we have become, how alike our distinct choices appear to be, how complacent and content we tend to be regarding social and political change, as long as we can afford our choices and pay our taxes. Don’t get me wrong, I myself enjoy watching the movie of the hour and drinking the coffee flavor of the moment. It is precisely this conforming quality of our existence which will recognize the driving forces behind Witkiewicz’s The Shoemakers. Through the play’s apocalyptic vision of civilization’s fall, we can refigure and reinterpret the homogenized and stratified approaches to late 20th century’s understanding of artistic values and cultural representation. Perhaps that way, we may finally learn to embrace our fears and express our vulnerability without feeling ashamed or aggravated.
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