Almaty’s oldest independent theatre seeks to redefine its identity  

The director of Almaty’s oldest independent theatre ArtIShok, Anastasia Tarasova, talks to Ilona Sokolova about how the influx of Russian migrants has affected her theatre; about wanting to come out of ArtIShok’s “comfortable” creative bubble and connect with society and issues it is facing; and about trying to look back at ArtIShok’s history to rediscover and redefine its identity as a way to ensure its future. 

Q – You are opening the new season with Demontazh (Disassembling). Set amid half-assembled stage decorations, it is an open dialogue with spectators on theatre, their expectations from art, and on the wider question of communication. 

A – The project is part of our search for a space where we can establish communication with our spectators. There is a lot of talk today about the importance of direct contact between people — the ability and skills to communicate, to express your thoughts, feelings, anything, looking into someone’s eyes; the ability to put things into words when you are face-to-face with someone.  

We have become so accustomed to communication through social media. Often that kind of communication leads to a dead end. It is like I have my opinion, and I have my social media accounts, and I say whatever I want there. Undoubtedly, freedom of speech is everyone’s civic right, but very often it leads to a breakup of relations between people, within families, communities, societies.  

When the person you are talking to is physically present, you think what to say, because you know that your words might trigger some reaction. You have to be mindful. You are facing a real person and you cannot tell them to get lost if they do not like your opinion. We happily do that on social media, without any thought about consequences. 

Interactive productions like Demontazh are an opportunity to explore this subject.   

Q — There has been an influx of Russian actors and musicians into Kazakhstan. Has that had any impact on Almaty’s creative space? 

A — Indeed, we are witnessing a unique process. Like the Covid pandemic, it is something that we have never experienced before. I can only guess how it must feel when you abruptly have to leave your home, with a one-way ticket in your hand. Probably, it feels like a catastrophe.  

We could see a sense of despair in them. Many of them inquired about jobs with us, but we had to say no because at that point we had no expansion plans and did not want to suddenly hire new people. Also, we were aware that they were feeling lost and desperate, and needed time to find their bearings and take a breath.  

In the past season we did not hire any new people, but now, we can see, we need to expand our management team. Our new manager for relations with the public is Gulnara Dayanova, she has moved [to Almaty] with her husband from Kazan. 

We have also hired Oleg Zhevlakov, a sound engineer from [St Peterburg’s] Mariinskiy Theatre, so now we have at least two foreigners on our team. 

We can see many [newly migrated] Russians among our spectators – I suppose they are regular theatre-goers. Through our theatre they are getting to know our city and country.  

They often ask what language our productions are in. For example, our Pesennik (Songwriter) production opens with us singing some Kazakh songs, and I can see that it perplexes the newcomers. And I think: come on, take it easy! There is no need to be so hung up on language. This is our reality [the co-existence of Kazakh and Russian in Kazakhstan], and it makes things quite comfortable for them [Russian migrants]. But I often see that they are going through a cultural shock.   

Generally, I think they are accepting everything, and settling in quite organically. 

Q – Apart from the language issue, another much-debated topic in Kazakhstan currently is religion. Do you think that theatre is a good place for exploring this particular subject?  

A – I have only recently realised that there is a huge debate going on in our society about boundaries between secularity and religiosity. What kind of religious practices belong here historically, how do we identify ourselves as a country [religious or secular]?  

I have realised that at the theatre we are living in a kind of information vacuum. We have created our own space, in which we feel comfortable, but we are out of tune with what is happening in the city and beyond. 

We have a production, Crime and Punishment, which is, in essence, very much about religion. Man is in conversation with God about whether he has the right to kill another human being.    

But generally when it comes to taking on one or another subject, it is important that the director himself feels the need to address it. As it were “if you can avoid staging it, don’t”. To make a production work the director must serve as a vehicle for the whole cast.  

For the past several months we have been doing monthly readings of the play Finist Yasnyy Sokol, because of which the [Russian] playwright Svetlana Petriychuk and the theatre director Zenya Berkovich have been arrested [on charges of promoting terrorism]. 

It is a documentary play about young women who adopt Islam and go in search of love and happiness to countries that support terrorism. Hence it is not based on someone’s abstract idea to stage a play about religion. It is a general topic, specific characters, and real events, wrapped together by means of artistic interpretation.  

Doing our readings, we saw that the play did trigger strong reactions. And reactions were different from reading to reading, we never know how it is going to go down with the spectators on any given day. 

During our reading in July — we were doing it in the theatre foyer — a builder turned up who was working nextdoor. He started to argue with our administrator and film us on his phone. He demanded to know why we were reading a play on this subject, and why I, as an actress was wearing a [Muslim] headscarf. 

The subject of religion is simply tearing people apart. Some believe it is an untouchable subject, some, like us, look at it from a secular point of view – and it is a place where it is impossible to determine who is right and who is wrong. I can see it and I accept it.  

I later phoned that person and explained to him that it was a play, we did not mean to hurt his feelings. It was important for me that we talked about it like normal people, heard one another, and I am glad it worked. 

Q – How would you describe your theatre’s mission today? 

A – I think it is to become conscious of our own history. We have started to renovate and rebuild our Small Stage at 49 Kunaev Street, where it all began. This is something that we can learn through working with the history of the space, finding a way to talk about it. 

Our basement is a unique space, and we want to stress that and talk about it. Not every residential bloc can boast of being home to a theatre company which is part of it, part of the neighbourhood.   

It is important from time to time to take yourself apart and re-assemble. It is very easy to lose your identity [as a theatre], to fall out with your colleagues, to stop doing theatre. It can happen in a flash. Every creative team goes through serious internal processes, we are not an exception. How do we make sure such tensions do not turn into fatal ones? The most important challenge for us at the moment is self-preservation.  

Many problems in our city, and maybe in the country stem from our inability to value what we have already created together. We do not value what we already have, what we have created thus far. We should learn how to do that and find people who want to do the same, so we can support each other on this path. 

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