Overview
Don’t let the name of Australian artist and performer Anthony Breslin’s Trybe: An Opera in Paint deceive you — his is no traditional libretto. In place of a tenor to rival Pavarotti, viewers can expect an all senses experience (or assault, depending on where your tastes sit) that encompasses art, dance, film and live music. Traditional conventions get a makeover to ensure the opera is not only palatable, but markedly challenging, for contemporary sensibilities. The absence of an operatic orchestra, replaced by a three-piece band that performs a score by Greg Long, is just one such attempt at modernisation. Subverting the role of the all-knowing conductor, Breslin assumes the (at least partially autobiographical) character of a tortured artist struggling to give life to a painting it becomes clear he is somehow spiritually compelled to produce. From the safety of their offstage seating audiences are led on an involving journey that even their brave guide is not sure will end in triumph.
Breslin’s opera does not follow a conventional narrative structure, instead erratically blending depictions of the protagonist’s battle to overcome internal anxieties for the greater creative good with a series of high-energy, visually explosive dance and music sequences. This strong conceptual bent is likely to strike many viewers as jarring at some point in the just over an hour it takes for the artist to cultivate the canvas that will later come to define the performance.
Audiences have been conditioned to expect certain things from entertainment — a chronological story, humanised characters and speech, to begin — none of which Trybe: An Opera in Paint delivers. Perhaps the intermittent alienation that comes with experiencing turbulent, uncertain artistic practice played out in real time is something to be celebrated despite its intrinsic, accompanying discomfort. Rather than feeling cheated by the lack of script, predictable character development and the general fulfilment of “normal” expectations, viewers must focus on what is gained from this cost — an honest insight into the customarily personal act of creation — in order to fully appreciate Breslin’s vision.
The risk that Breslin runs by turning his studio into a stage and inviting perfect strangers to enjoy, or pass judgement upon his fraught artistic journey has to be admired, regardless of whether one “likes” the performance or does not. By privileging the communal the artist is able to abandon the constraints of the ego in order to create a work that is bigger than any singular reputation or internal vision can ever be. The needs of the tribe are favoured in another, less abstract way, as each resulting canvas will be available for sale post performance. All proceeds will be donated to the Lasaillian Foundation, an organisation that supports the education and empowerment of children, youth and their communities in the Asia Pacific.
Will Breslin ultimately overcome the personally constructed version of success that shackles his ability to create for much of the performance? Will the audience, who develop a sense of ownership over the artwork, be left creatively satiated or wanting for something more? Like all truly great operas, all will be revealed in the final act, when the canvas will speak what the performers cannot.
Image credit Jacqueline Barkla.