theatre masks    TEATRO INTERCULTURALE - 5

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Tommaso Urselli, Hypatia. The Highest note.
ePub edition: November 2016

ePub ISBN : 978-88-6705-561-6

Cover drawing by José Muñoz.

Tommaso Urselli

HYPATIA. THE HIGHEST NOTE

Translated by

Diana Nunziante and Maggie Rose

Introduction

by Maggie Rose

A biographical play about Hypatia, Tommaso Urselli’s eponymous work charts the life and work of a woman who was a brilliant, independent scholar and original thinker at a time when such a phenomenon was virtually unthinkable. Hypatia lived in the city of Alessandria of Egypt, which as early as the 5th century A.D. was a multiethnic city, where Greeks, Egyptians, Jews co-habited. The city landscape was littered by synagogues, temples to Egyptian and Greek gods and Christian churches, reflecting the diverse religions of its citizens. The predominant group was made up of Hellenic people, many of whom were converting to Christianity. Hypatia was one of this social group, but chose not to become a Christian, even if her own paganism did not stop her having Christian disciples, such as Synesius of Cyrene, who later became a Bishop. Needless to say her tolerance and openness in the face of ethnic diversity and religious plurality, and sadly her persecution, make the play deeply relevant for today’s world. While the text has already been published and successfully staged in Italy, this English translation is an important contribution to ‘Teatro interculturale, Intercultural theatre’.

Author’s Note

Little is known about the life and works of Hypatia, a mathematician, astronomer and philosopher of the IV Century A.D. from Alexandria, Egypt. Some historians, contemporaries of Hypatia mention her, such as Socrates Scholasticus, Philostorgius, Sozomen, and Damascius. Further information emerges in the letters that one of her favourite disciples, Synesius of Cyrene, the then Bishop of Ptolemais, wrote to her. Subsequently, scientists and artists of all times have relied on these sources. In writing this play I drew on these sources, and on one of the possible interpretations of Hypatia’s name, namely the highest note of the Greek musical scale. I make no claim to have invented a philologically correct Hypatia, as is presumably the case of the films, poems and novels devoted to her. This could not be otherwise, seeing the scarce and at times conflicting historical information. Mine is a professed fabrication that refers to, and often draws on, the works that mention her. Moreover, my play starts from the contrasting facts in order to gain in dramatic power. The setting is already a fabrication, as the story does not happen in the IV Century A.D. or in Alexandria of Egypt, but rather in a hypothetical future. The action takes place in 2415 A.D., namely two thousand years after Hypatia’s tragic death, caused, according to the most authoritative sources, by Bishop Cyril (directly or indirectly, we do not know). The setting is a sort of space-time warp, where, thanks to a mysterious ploy, the five hundred thousand volumes of Alexandria’s Mouseion Library, the largest in the world, have survived an arson attack. The protagonist inhabits this futuristic records archive, which turns into her personal theatre. Here voices, characters, and events unfold through a fragmented, non-chronological narrative. Spectators can therefore follow the association of ideas of the female figure onstage. Hypatia was a neo-platonic philosopher, a follower of Plotinus, according to whom time is the image of eternity. This is an eternity, where everything is simultaneous, there is no such thing as a before or an after. Indeed the story of Hypatia and her time, on which audience members are invited to reflect, just like when she lectured, recurs through the ages.

There follows a list of the works consulted and drawn on during the composition of this play.

Drama:

Brecht, Bertold. Vita di Galileo. Trans. E. Castellani. Turin: Einaudi, 2005.

Luzi, Mario. Libro di Ipazia. Milan: Rizzoli, 1980.

Fiction:

Colavito, Antonino and Adriano Petta. Ipazia. Vita e sogni di una scienziata del IV secolo. Rome: La Lepre, 2009.

Eco, Umberto. Baudolino. Milan: Bompiani, 2002.

Kingsley, Charles. Ipazia o Nuovi nemici dal vecchio volto. Trans. C. Dallemule. Bologna: Lupetti, 2010.

Moneti Codignola, Maria. Ipazia muore. Milan: La Tartaruga, 2010.

Ziedan, Youssef. Azazel. Trans. L. Declich and D. Mascitelli. Milan: Neri Pozza, 2010.

Films:

Agorà, Dir. A. Amenabar. Focus Features, 2009.

Fahrenheit 451, Dir. F. Truffaut. Universal, 1966.

Wittgenstein, Dir. D. Jarman. BFI, 1993.

Literary Essays:

Alic, Margaret. L’eredità di Ipazia. Trans. D. Minerva. Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1989.

Barni, Jules Romain. I martiri del libero pensiero: corso pubblico di lezioni. Trans. G. Frigyesi. Foggia: Bastogi, 1982.

Beretta, Gemma. Ipazia d’Alessandria. Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1993.

Gestri Greco, Flora. Ipazia, scienziata massacrata dal Clero, e le altre. Florence: Il pozzo di Micene, 2011.

Pascal, Carlo. Figure e caratteri. Università di Catania, Palermo: Remo Sandron, 1908.

Ronchey, Silvia. Ipazia. La vera storia. Milan: Rizzoli, 2011.

Toland, John. Ipazia. Florence: Clinamen, 2010.

World première Milan, 8 March 2012, at Pacta dei Teatri, as part of the WomenTheatreRights/Sciences-on-stage Project. Performed by Maria Eugenia D’Aquino, directed by Valentina Colorni, music by Maurizio Pisati, set design by Andrea Ricci.

HYPATIA. THE HIGHEST NOTE

For Marinetta

“To the stars through difficulties”

Seneca, Hercules Furens

“And when they ask us what we’re doing,

you can say, we’re remembering”

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Characters

Woman

Pre-recorded voiceovers

Alternately, this could be a two-person play, where one actor plays Hypatia and a second actor plays the other roles

Year 2415 A.D. In the corners of the stage, strange objects similar to menhirs, perhaps remains of ancient or future buildings, rise dimly like tall dark beings in the half-light.

A sound. This slowly turns into breathing and a voice.

I am already dead

Or at least that’s how it seems

Or is everything dead around me

The city

gone up in flames

a theatre cut in pieces

its skin, torn wide apart

And I am alive

with a life I can’t understand

I can’t define

I can still not measure

Another voice:

- Wake up, little girl, wake up

The voice fades into sound while the lights come up and we see the silhouette of a female figure standing before a mirror.

They still haven’t passed through here

Daddy was right

(voice of Theon, the girl’s father) – In a corner of the multiverse perhaps something can still be done, with Shalim’s help

My dear old father

(voice of father Theon) – Come on, let’s get to work, come on. What are you waiting for? For these five hundred thousand volumes to go up in flames? Get a move on, no time for doubts. Shalim, you are in charge. And you lot, don’t be fooled by his appearance, he looks like a kid, but he is actually wilier than the devil… Put everything in front of the mirror and wait for the space-time gap to open up. Then arrange as many scrolls as you can, according to the music you hear… and please, learn it by heart, if we are to recover the scrolls some day...

The mirror begins to light up and a sequence of sounds can be heard… Soon, however, the process stops.

(voice of father Theon) - Let’s try again, I promise it will work! Anyhow those books can’t possibly stay under a pagan temple

I’m sorry, father, but my trip to Milan for talks with Bishop Ambrose was a waste of time

(voice of father Theon) – No regrets, Hypatia. Emperor Theodosius publicly bowed before Ambrose and it is now clear who is in charge. What’s more Bishop Theofilus made it very clear. In Alexandria the pagan temples are to be closed and their contents destroyed. We will be outlaws hereafter. There will no longer be libraries and study centres for philosophy and science. They are burning the books, destroying the statues... The imperial decree is being enforced. As for us, we must put our plan into action. So stop complaining, and get to work! Let’s try again, Shalim, stick to your music. It’ll work! It has to! What is music if not the sound of mathematics?

Step by step a musical architecture is created, a real structure of sounds, while the light rises...

(voice of father Theon) – Brilliant, Shalim, well done, that’s the way to do it... action deriving from thought, experiment deriving from the idea. This means kick-starting your brain. No one will ever find the scrolls, concealed in a space-time fold

Very bright light. We see that the tall dark shapes are actually the shelves of a futuristic library. The woman looks around. She goes to one of them, touching it: sounds. She pulls out a scroll, unwinds it. More sounds... the contents of the scroll are translated into music...

Democritus’ study on atomism

She pulls out another scroll, unwinds it, more sounds...

The Treatise on Light by Moschus, the Phoenician

Another scroll...

The Heliocentric Theory by Aristarchus of Samos

There is everything here

The entire Mouseion Library of Alexandria

the largest library in the world

The knowledge of Euclid, Thales, Pythagoras, Hippocrates, Aristotle, Plato, Diophantus, Plotinus and many others

Greeks

Egyptians

Chaldeans

Romans

everything kept safe here

She unwinds another scroll and another...

Father...

Her voice cracks with emotion.

How many nights have we strained our eyes over these?

They are still intact, father

It worked!

To the mirror.

I don’t know how you did it, Shalim

But thanks

thank you for your… music

The mirror lights dimly; discords, that gradually turn into a shrill voice.

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – What, it worked!

Who is...

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – Don’t you recognize me? Seeing old Theophilus couldn’t make it, I’m here to bring you his regards

You!

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – You should not spend so much time looking in that mirror, it is unbecoming. Save your looks for your man… and not only that...

What man?

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – ... every woman should! (laughter)

What are you talking about?

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – Now I understand. You want to become a nun and keep your flower chaste (laughter)... But tell me. Who are those people by your side? I see you are still blathering on street-corners and in the theatres, instead of recognising your place in….

And what would that be?

(voice of the Bishop Cyril) – What is a woman’s place? I could quote Augustine... But dear, my dear Hypatia, do I have to explain everything? Perhaps your father Theon was too busy with his numbers to take care of you. Anyhow, look, I’ll start from basics: get yourself some new clothes and wear a nice tunic instead of that ridiculous philosopher’s gown. You should also spend more time on housework. And if in the evening you are tired and feel like taking a break to look at the heavens and count the stars... or you pretend to be an inventor, just like little boys do... go ahead. Still the most important thing is not to take yourself seriously! Look, if people still remember you, it is certainly not because of those two gewgaw inventions... what’s it called, the astrolabe, or the hydroscope. Which, I am told, by the way, were not conceived by that little mind of yours… Nor will you be remembered for those commentaries on... mathematical-philosophical works... They were very few to be honest, and the others got lost forever. Instead, what will people remember you for? For a rag, a rag soaked in impure blood. Yours. Fluttered underneath the nose of a so-called disciple... perhaps a little over keen? Poor man! He was just trying to put you one the straight and narrow, the only suitable path for a woman. You should be looking after a husband, a family, and children. And what do you do? You thank him by throwing in his face the monthly tribute paid by your gender to Mother Nature! But that’s enough of sad memories! Thanks to Shalim’s stroke of genius we have this chance to meet again after more than two thousand years... so let’s have some fun. How about it? Solve me this riddle. Thirteen Jews are on the road just outside Alexandria, they stand there transfixed and without uttering a word. Why? Sorry! I didn’t tell you but it’s just their heads standing there skewered on stakes

The voice dissolves into laughter.

Shalim!

That’s a turn up for the book

How on earth did Cyril manage to find us?

The woman shakes the mirror violently.

Can you hear me Shalim?

Silence.

Alright

Then I’ll follow the bishop’s advice

Yes, my new existence

past, present or future, whatever

I’ll finally spend more time on women’s chores

She grabs some things that she puts on a board. What happens on the board could be filmed by a video camera and projected live on a screen backstage.

Water, flour...

It is certainly not the stuff of which the universe is made, still...

She kneads as if she is making bread. Then she shapes some dough into two small humanlike figures and speaks for them as if they were puppets.

- I changed my mind, Orestes: I accept your proposal

- But... are you sure? Does your father agree?

- I made up my mind and that’s that. Aren’t you pleased?

- Of course I am, Hypatia, and I hope you are too

- The other night, as I watched the sky, I thought I saw someone in the bushes of the garden... Two shadows... The silhouettes of two bodies moving like Aphrodite’s dance… Then, a mewing: they were two cats! I got closer and saw their bodies joined together. The female cat was lying on its back, paws pointing towards the sky and eyes aglow… the male cat was biting her neck, to stop her from moving… a strange bite… a bite that didn’t hurt

- I will do anything to make you happy

- And I have already decided what to wear. A white tunic, with a silver belt, showing off my waist… and a garland of fresh white blossom on my head

She smiles. As if she can see herself on her wedding day.

She puts the puppets down.

But then I look in the mirror

Still in there I see a stranger

an image of me

in that pure white dress

looking ridiculous

almost macabre

The image of a corpse

dressed for burial

She grabs the dough puppets again.

- Orestes

- What’s the matter?

- Sorry, I can’t

- You can’t? Why not?

- I just can’t. Many women can. I don’t

Orestes changes his tone of voice.

- Ah, Hypatia… I am told you are now giving public lectures... Is it true?

- What’s wrong with that? Even Socrates grilled his young disciples in the streets of Athens. Plotinus, likewise, whom I revere as a mentor

- Do you think it’s wise these days to go around, preaching?

- I don’t preach, sciences and philosophy aren’t religions. And my lectures are attended by pagans, Christians, and Jews alike… I teach, debate, drill them, whatever god they believe in. The only god or demon I attempt to awaken in them is the one of reason. And as one of my former students you should know that

- Keep up the good work, but not in the streets

- Is that an order from the great prefect Orestes?

- It’s advice from somebody who loves you

- Thanks, and goodbye. (she picks up a puppet and gives it a closer look) Oh, and give my regards to Cyril, who now commands you a like a puppet (lays it down)

She walks away from the board, leaving the dough puppets there, but we can still hear their voices.

- Your stubbornness will get us into trouble

- Trouble? For who? For me, for the city of Alexandria… or for you, Orestes, and your career?

- Alright, let it drop. (pause) Hypatia, anyhow as for…

- I can’t, I have already told you

- I understand that Synesius is in touch with you

- That’s not the reason. I really can’t. With you, or with anybody. Neither now nor never

The woman is now close to one of the elements. She brushes against it, sounds come out, she pulls out a scroll; it is one of Synesius’ letters. She reads.

“To Hypatia from Synesius. I made a terrible mistake moving from Alexandria to Athens. It was certainly different in the past, but nowadays culture here is worth nothing. People don’t go in for politics or philosophy anymore. They are into showbusiness, and of the most vulgar kind. Even Asclepigenia, the great philosopher, proved a disappointment. She shrouds herself in mystery like a mistress of the occult and rolls her eyes as if in a trance. She’s a freak show. I miss you and Alexandria so much. Wait for me, and keep on turning out your serious young disciples, interested in knowledge only. Still I can’t wait to tell you about my extraordinary happiness. You are the first to know because of our deep friendship and because, despite the tiny difference in our age, I regard you as my mentor, as well as a second mother. I am getting married! To a wonderful woman, who’s beautiful and intelligent. I have told her so much about you that I was frightened she’d be jealous. However she is wise and virtuous and would never allow such petty feelings to get in the way. And so, Hypatia, stay well and be happy for me. See you soon.”

The woman repeats the last words.

“Be happy for me…

A wise and virtuous woman…

incapable of petty feelings…”

She sounds like a perfect woman, dear Synesius

I always believed we’d grow old together, two very close friends

I was foolish

I cherished the dream of an eternal philosophical friendship

of an academy founded by the two of us

Hypatia and Synesius’ academy

the rebirth of Alexandrian Platonism

Of course, you never made it clear

but I presumed you were on my wave-length

Besides, what should a philosopher be interested in?

Getting married?

What an absurd madness

To turn oneself into a country gentleman who grows fat

Lolls around

And takes care of his business affairs

And at the same time he lives a dull existence, his sole companion, an obedient wifey

who worships him

and makes him feel he’s the most gorgeous, the bravest and most virile of men

A woman who cares nothing about his intellect

knows nothing about philosophy or astronomy

A woman who cooks him tasty meals

charms him with clever love games

It’s disgusting!

Vulgar!

People attach too much importance to their body

by either loving or despising it too much

And it’s just not on

The body is nothing

Its needs are nothing

Just satisfy them and forget them

Bodily signs are insignificant

The true substance of us all, both men and women

is the divine spark, the intellect

which is a fragment of the One, of God

and there is a longing to return

The body rapidly declines and decays

And we should, as long as we are locked in it, strive to forget it

She nears the board, where the two dough puppets are still watching them.

I feel sorry

I feel truly sorry

I have tried, but maybe I am no good at this… it’s human

too human

Or maybe it does not interest me much

Yes, undoubtedly

For me, there are far more interesting things

She takes more dough and shapes it into balls. She places them on the board along with the puppets.

As you can see, you little creatures, you are not

the greatest and most important things in this universe

And you certainly aren’t at its centre

So I wonder

why

but why all this bustle

The universe certainly doesn’t revolve around your bodies

Even if that’s what Cyril would like us to believe

On the board, using some flour, she draws several circular orbits of the planets. Then she picks up one of the dough puppets again.

Not even around your body, my dear Synesius

You claim to have a genuine thirst for knowledge

you asked me to send you the latest version of my astrolabe

Why did you want it?

As an escape from the boredom of your new life as a couple?

Or to take your mind off your new bishopric?

No, forgive me, I lost control

But don’t think I bear a grudge

You are still my best disciple!

And you must certainly have had a good reason

to sacrifice and combine with intelligence

Your inclination for academia

with the ties that life and the present times dealt you

You have an intelligence that sadly perhaps escapes me

She takes the other figure, hers, and joins it to that of Synesius. She goes on kneading and reduces everything to a single ball, which she places on the board at the centre of the circular orbits, as if it were the sun.

One moment!

Sorry Synesius, I still need you

She picks up the central ball and again divides it into two and puts them on the board.

Of course, there are two of them!

To the mirror.

Not one centre, Shalim, but two… two foci

And the sun, you understand… the sun is one of them

And the orbit, the earth’s orbit, is not a circle…

She clears the circular orbits off the board and, with more flour, redraws them elliptically.

… but perhaps the earth revolves around the sun as

an ellipse

the locus of points, the sum of whose distance to the two foci

is constant

Because what is a circle, after all, if not a special ellipse

whose two foci are so close that they stand at the same point, namely the centre

To the mirror.

It needs checking, Shalim

but it could be the case

This would confirm, with all due respect to Ptolemy, that Aristarchus

was right

We are not at the centre of the universe

And the earth revolves around our source of light, the sun, not the other way around

A bluish light brightens the mirror. Discords, that turn into a shrill voice.

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – You never stop staring at the heavens! Have you managed to see anything other than the stars?

What do you mean?

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – God, Hypatia! Where is God?

Up there, isn’t he! Just as he wouldn’t be found down here on earth, if the people from up there came looking for him here!

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – So where is He?

I’m no theologian. I am a mathematician, a philosopher, an astronomer

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – First and foremost you are a human being and my question is: where is God in your universe?

Inside ourselves, or nowhere!

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – Is this what you fill your pupils’ heads with?

Education, dear Cyril, doesn’t mean filling a bucket, but lighting a fire…

(voice of Bishop Cyril ) – As the man about to die at the stake famously said! (laughter) My dear Hypatia, I can only suggest you weigh what you say more carefully, and agree with me when I say it’s best to forget the past with all its mistakes. On earth as is in heaven! And listen to me, the sky shouldn’t concern women. You should have married that Orestes of yours. Maybe he would have listened to you more than me. Unless, on the wedding day, you suddenly realized that something was badly wrong with you

While the bluish light fades and the voice of Bishop Cyril turns into dissonances, the woman, in front of the mirror, looks at herself, slowly lifts her tunic and uncovers her legs: they are goaty legs.

You couldn’t know, Orestes

No one could

Only my father did, that’s precisely why

he tried to dissuade you

It has always been like that

Even as a young girl

I remember the time my brother, in love for the first time

asked my advice about how to win a woman’s love

My only answer was to lift up my tunic

and, uncovering my legs, I told him

Here, here is what you love, women are like this!

He ran away horrified and did not speak to me for months

That same evening the animals in the garden grew restless

a strange silence fell

Around me, all over the earth, it was nightfall

the darkest night I ever remember

I looked up at the sky

A black monster was about to devour the moon’s silver disk

And it was all my fault, for what I had done to my brother

I saw my father in the garden and clung desperately to him

Asking him for his forgiveness

But my father, who was also watching the sky, turned to me

And at that very moment he seemed huge

he burst out laughing and gave me a hug

(voice of father Theon) – Do you really think this is all your doing, little girl? No, do not worry. No one here on earth will ever have so much power. Look, look carefully, instead…

So I stood there

for minutes that seemed endless

looking at the moon being swallowed by that larger disk

that was black

and obscure

and I couldn’t do a thing about it

That’s us, my father explained with a smile, that’s the earth

Or, rather, its shadow

And as he spoke, he took me into his laboratory for the first time

I have never left it since

She goes to the shelf where the dough balls are.

(voice of father Theon) – Look! This is the earth, this the sun, this the moon. When they are in this position, the earth casts its shadow on the moon, which seems to disappear. It’s called a total eclipse

Young Hypatia’s initiation into the sciences by her father Theon. Recalling Hypatia’s study of conics, upstage is projected the graphic representation of the eclipses, then the ones of the orbits of the planets, of the comets, etc. The orbits are in the shape of ellipses, parabolas and hyperbolas obtained by a cone in different sections.

I was gazing at my father enthralled

Convinced that with the help of all his knowledge

encompassing everything

even these…

these legs of mine

could be cured

Yet his studies and calculations were of no use

As were the doctors whose opinions he sought

So he took me to Shalim

(voice of father Theon) – See this boy? He was a boy when I was a boy, and when my father was a boy, and my father’s father, and so on. They say he came out of the desert one day. Nobody knows his age. He doesn’t talk. He has his music, instead of words…

And he left me alone with him

Shalim was looking at me

Still not a note came from his instrument

Nothing

not even his music, which later would produce all this (looks around)

could cure me

I was angry

With myself and even angrier with my father

who at his age and with all his knowledge

had reckoned that this ageless, dumb, crippled dwarf

would manage to give me new legs and a normal existence

by playing on that… that instrument of his

A simple string attached to a bit of rough wood!

I grabbed Shalim

and began shaking him

taunting him

bawling at him, letting my anger spill out

Then, as I had done with my brother

I showed him over and over, no holds barred, my goaty legs

Instead, unlike my brother

he didn’t get upset

he didn’t flinch from me

or feel repelled by my legs

On the contrary, with his hand

he began gently fondling their white fur

He had a child-like touch, and like a child he smiled at me

I seemed to hear the sound, of that smile

Which is impossible, because the…

the creature…

was dumb

he had no voice

Just the same, I could hear it

it was inside me

and inside me it created spaces

shapes

visions that I couldn’t understand

Background video projections. The geometric images of the conics previously displayed turn into atomic orbitals and representations of the microcosm, describing Democritus’ philosophic theories on atomism, and then evolve into representations of the macrocosm through modern models of the universe.

When Shalim stopped fondling my goatish hair

those sounds and visions faded

And then everything grew clear to me

What I had seen and heard

was not due to Shalim

but to my weird legs

Shalim had simply helped me

to recognise them as mine

to accept them

and understand that inside me there was something or someone

an animal or human

a demon or god

that was asking to be heard

And this something or someone

would never give up their place inside me

So I would have to learn to live with him or her

Because the voice

the voice of my legs

and whatever was alive inside them

came back to make itself heard

At first rarely, when I least expected it

While I was contemplating the sunset

the perfection of a shell’s structure

the sweetness of a melody…

It burst forth, awakening me from my ecstasy at the sight of such beauty

And it challenged me and

pushed me to ask myself questions

It goaded me and gave me no peace

To the mirror.

The sound… the sound produced by the string of your instrument, Shalim… (sound)... If we now make another one, but with a string of a different length, and pluck both strings together… Listen carefully to their (two simultaneous sounds)… harmony… And can you hear the enjoyment, the enjoyment of this accord? It varies! It varies according to the string’s length… Here, this one is more pleasing, can you hear, Shalim?... It is more pleasing when the ratio of the two strings is simple… Numbers… In numbers lies the essence of all things… Everything is based on Mathematics, absolutely, Shalim… even Philosophy… Wasn’t it Plato who wrote on the door of his Academy: “Nobody ignorant of geometry should enter here”?

While sounds are being produced to test the tonal system, on the screen its logarithmic spiral representation is projected. This changes into a similar image of the cochlea and the organ of hearing, which in turn changes into the image of a shell. Historical sources say Hypatia was flayed by a shell and died from her injuries.

Later that voice

made itself heard steadily more often

And made my thirst for knowledge grow and grow

along with a need to impart my knowledge to others

She takes a dough ball off the board and walks downstage into the proscenium towards the audience as if she is giving a lecture.

My dear friends, this is what our body and everything around us is made of. Matter (she holds out the dough, detaches a piece from it that drops to the floor. She observes the impact)… matter that likes staying close to other matter! Yet what is this matter made of? (she begins breaking up the ball of dough into gradually smaller bits)... As long as I break it into pieces and cut it up, I’ll get progressively smaller pieces… And so forever and ever? Somebody might ask… No, replies Democritus. If ideally we kept on dividing the dough into smaller and smaller rough parts, we would eventually come to a halt, since matter is composed of small particles, so small that at a certain point they are no longer seen with the naked eye, but only in our mind and thought processes… And these finite particle can be divided no further. They are atoms. After all, it is not very different from when we raise our eyes to the heavens on a dark night and see a dim patchy glow. I mean the Milky Way… Well, what is it, apart from a cluster of small stars?... so far away from us we can’t tell them apart... Democritus already knew that, even if his discovery was only acknowledged twenty centuries later! But let’s simplify further, since I suspect that actually everything must be simple, much simpler than we imagine. What would happen if one of us, now, were to go far from here… and observed us… observed our bodies gathered here from a very distant standpoint?... Wouldn’t he or she probably see something like one body?... Yes, a single body… moved by the same infinite thirst for knowledge… a body in which thought and action, reason and religion, politics and philosophy… each and every force is combined and well tuned, just like a musical instrument, around one single note… But maybe all this would only be possible in a different place and time… in an unattainable Golden Age… and you are only wasting your time listening to the words of a poor delusional woman, suffering from an incurable disease…

The lecture is interrupted by discords and Cyril’s shrill voice.

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – You should have listened to me, and you would have been cured. Not by doctors and wizards, but a proper treatment… Tell me then, in your infinite wisdom, who is our top doctor?

The ancient Egyptian Amenhotep, bishop

Or the Greek Hippocrates

Or, among the Alexandrine physicians, Herophilus

And Galen, who likewise studied in Alexandria

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – Wrong!... None of them could ever have brought a dead man back to life by just touching him… Our Lord, Hypatia! He is the ocean of medicine. And the saints, and the martyrs, who healed the cripples and the lepers, with no worthless science, like Astronomy, Mathematics, magic, to help them. Are you searching for History? You’ve got the Pentateuch and the Books of Kings. Searching for eloquence? You’ve got the Prophecy Books. Searching for poetry? You’ve got the Psalms. Remember: “A wise man conceals science”… The Bible, the Book of Proverbs…

The Bible, the Book of Proverbs: “For how long will fools continue to hate science?”… As you can see, reason and religion can coexist, it is possible. Pagans, Christians, Jews, Arians… these are the people who with me seek the truth hidden in the atoms of matter or in a beam of light…

(voice of Bishop Cyril) – Yes… Yes… I am aware that quite a few folk have trusted you… More than should have… Including some bishops and prefects I’m told… And I would not… I really would not like the city council to be taken for one of your… philosophical questions… Obviously I made the mistake of not paying due attention to this matter much sooner… but from now on I will make up for it. In the meanwhile, reflect... Think, Hypatia, while watching the heavens, about that light you just mentioned. What would happen if one day someone discovered its secret for real? The mystery of creation is hidden there! And the Church always has been, and always will be, its only worthy guardian! That’s why, your wish... yes, it is perhaps possible... but unsophisticated... And above all dangerous!... And “Can a man walk on hot coals without his feet being scorched?”

The woman flings the board at the mirror. Noise of shattering glass. Scattered everywhere, fragments, the shapes and puppets made of the dough she kneaded earlier. The woman stares at them and seems to hear their voices.

- You heard what Cyril said

- You ought to be christened

- Please, teacher, listen to us

- Besides, what exactly is this tall story about the earth orbiting the sun

- You are a Christian

- You ought to tell Cyril you are a Christian

- And the earth stands still, remember

- Like the foundations of our church

- Would you dare to make the church and all its bishops orbit the sun?

- You don’t know what you are talking about

- You don’t understand

- This is not one of your lectures

- Forget about the stars

- Look around you

- This is not the city of your dreams

- Jews against Christians

- Christians against pagans

- It’s a battlefield

- And Cyril frowns upon our friendship

I understand

I understand what you mean

but I cannot

I really can’t do what you’re asking of me

For me it is different

I am neither a prefect nor a bishop

Sciences and Philosophy should

seek nothing other than the truth

and the truth cannot be imprisoned by religious or political dogmas

Look, look over there: the sun

How could I keep looking at its light every day

without attempting to understand

without seeking to comprehend the laws that bind us to it

and govern our stay on this earth

No, for me it’s impossible

and honestly I can’t see how it could be any different for other people

Unless we are not looking at the same thing

Yes, maybe that’s the answer

Maybe the sun is not the same for everybody

She collects a piece of the mirror and we see its bright reflection.

Is that right, Shalim?

Tell me, is that right?

Inside her after so long, there’s Shalim’s voice again, and the audience can hear it too.

(Shalim’s voice) – Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a little girl who wondered about the reason for everything, and managed to find the answer to her queries only by trying to explain it to others. She found the game increasingly amusing, so she sought to build a city according to these principles. And because she was very clever, she succeeded. She fashioned the city in the shape of a shell, whose perfection had always fascinated her: its core was a central square, from where streets branched off, like spiral arms that led to other squares, from where other streets branched off. But the most peculiar thing was that instead of the names of the streets, there were questions, instead of the names of the squares, there were answers... which then led to other streets, with more questions and more answers, and so on. The sky of that city was invariably bright and clear, like a mirror. So anyone, standing anywhere, just by looking up there could admire the reflection of this perfect lightweight architecture. There was an ever-growing arrangement of questions and answers, lit by bright sunlight. But one day someone, who perhaps did not appreciate the clarity, or perhaps because he did not like the answers he got to his questions, or maybe just out of envy, cracked the mirror in the sky and shattered it. Then he replaced that sun with another sun. From then on the inhabitants of the city returned to their usual life. Some questions remained, and for some people not even those, while the answers were gradually swallowed up by a dark, new sun. Still left there, in hidden corners, scattered everywhere, were the bright fragments of that city-shell and its mirror-like sky. However, they were sometimes so pointed and sharp that just by touching them you could hurt yourself. And not everybody, or rather almost nobody, was willing to take that risk. Only the little girl, who in the meantime had grown into a woman, had a go... perhaps because she missed the world she had created, and had lived for some time divided between that world and the earth and felt at home nowhere. Still she paid dearly for it, since she cut herself on the shards. Her body was torn to pieces, and flayed, and burned, by someone who could not bear to see his own wickedness reflected daily in the sky. He made a gross miscalculation, however. Because the light of those fragments, like that of certain stars whose brilliance takes millennia to reach our eyes, spread out in space and time, carrying the memory of that woman-child, and of the city she had founded as far as here. Home at last

In the meantime the light has grown dim; the menhirs are no longer in the corners as in the beginning, but are placed around the female figure, like a prison or as if the space-time passage was about to close. We can hear the woman’s voice, or rather voices, as if they were multiplied... a constellation of Hypatias...

Whose is the voice inside me that is still talking?

Who am I? Who are you?

The living who wish to die

The dead who wish to live?

Perhaps that’s why we’re here

in this no man’s land

at this non-existent time

I, you, like a single united being

without forgetting, says Hypatia

that those points

those dots of light

are fragments of a large single timeless image

That these sounds

these notes

belong to the single highest note

But for now we are not allowed to remember

what this image is

what this note is

And at this moment I

wish only to die

yes, truly die

completely die, says Hypatia

May the parts of me

each and every single bit of me

return to the whole

All numbers to the One

the river, sea and lake water to the source, says Hypatia

the spiral curves to the single origin

to that mother whom I never knew

Her voice gradually turns into sounds and then condenses into a single note until it disappears completely.

Blackout.

Biographical Note

Tommaso Urselli was born in Taranto, Italy and lives in Milan. Among his plays: Un vecchio gioco (An Old Game), commissioned by Compagnia Scena Nuda, 2015/2016 season; with Luca Fiorino, Filippo Gessi, Teresa Timpano; directed by Filippo Gessi; a Scena Nuda production. Mai nate (Never born), 2015/2016 season, with Elisa Canfora and Francesca Perilli, directed by Paola Manfredi, Teatro Periferico production. Boccaperta (Mouth Wide Open), commissioned for the 2014/2015 season by Teatro Periferico, with Dario Villa, directed by Paola Manfredi. Amongst his plays in the 2011-2012 season, he was commissioned to write Ipazia. La nota più alta (Ipazia. The Highest Note) by Pacta dei Teatri, for the project DonneTeatroDiritti – Scienza in Scena (WomenTheatreRights – Sciences on stage), performed by Maria Eugenia D’Aquino, directed by Valentina Colorni, music by Maurizio Pisati, scenes by Andrea Ricci. The text Il Tiglio. Foto di famiglia senza madre (The Limetree. A Motherless Family Portrait), winner of the Fersen Prize and the Borrello Prize, was presented as a rehearsed reading in Milan at Teatro della Cooperativa in a season dedicated to Franco Basaglia; it was published in the issue n. 727 of Sipario Magazine, making its debut as a show directed and performed by Massimiliano Speziani. The production went on tour and played at the Castel dei Mondi International Festival, Andria. In 2010, Mr. Wallfit in Spaceless, a script series co-written with Luciano Boschetti. In 2010 In equilibrium, a Teatro Litta production performed by student drama groups during the Connections Festival, a project in collaboration with London’s National Theatre. In 2009, Esercizi di distruzione. L’importanza di chiamarsi Erostrato (Destruction exercises. The Importance ofBeing Erostrato), a Teatro Litta production, published in issue n. 758 of Sipario Magazine, winner of the Lago Gerundo Prize. In 2008, Piccole danze quotidiane (Little daily dances), made its debut at Pim Spazio Scenico, Milan. In 2007, Ma che ci faccio io qua – appunti per uno sconcerto sulla città (What am I doing here – notes for a (dis)concert(ment) on the city), Edizioni Corsare, directed by Paolo Trotti, at the Teatro della Cooperativa and at Teatro della Contraddizione. In the same year he edited the publication A proposito di menzogne – testi per Città in condominio” (Talking of lies – texts for Apartment block city), L’Alfabeto Urbano, Napoli, together with Renata Molinari and Renato Gabrielli. In 2006, Canto errante di un uomo flessibile (Wandering Canto for a Flexible Man), winner of the Fersen Prize for dramaturgy and published by Editoria&Spettacolo. He was involved in the initiative Città in condominio (Apartment block city) at Teatro Out Off from 2003 to 2005, writing a series of texts later published in the book Voci dalla città (Voices from the city). In 2002 he wrote La porta (The door), Tramedautore Festival 2002, Outis, Teatro Arsenale, Milan.

Blog: tommasourselli.wordpress.com

INTERCULTURAL THEATRE - TEATRO INTERCULTURALE 

Diretta da: Maggie Rose

Comitato scientifico: Mariacristina Cavecchi, Valentina Garavaglia, Cristina Marinetti, Itala Vivan

Pubblicazioni della collana

1 - Valentina Garavaglia, Paolo Grassi e Jean Vilar,  Settembre  2013 (critica teatrale)

2 - Rani Moorthy, Una manciata di henné, Settembre 2013 (testo teatrale)

3 - Compagnia delle poete, Madrigne in un’unica partitura, Febbraio 2015 (testo teatrale) 

4 - San Vittore Globe Theatre, The Tempest, ottobre 2015 (testo teatrale)

Informazioni sul catalogo e acquisti: www.ledizioni.it