by Due to safety precautions during its renovation in the late 19th century, the Flemish theater KVS in Brussels was given a series of tiered fire escape balconies that wrapped around its exterior. But if the distinctive design of the building succeeds in presenting an audience, Maverick’s artistic director, Michael De Cock, is equally adept at drawing them in.
“We represent the city – we are a city theatre,” says De Cock, who took over in 2016. “We want to be a crossroads where people can meet and share feelings and talk and be free,” he continues over coffee at the Centre. theater bar in a modern development in front of the historic main house of Koninklijke Vlaamse Schouwburg. That philosophy means that, when I visit, the KVS foyer has been given over to an artist-led meeting in response to the war between Israel and Hamas, during which the names of the casualties are read out. Its model is a dynamic theater that acts as a town square – “you have to be up to the minute” – and it stands in stark contrast to many theaters in the UK. Last week, cultural workers gathered on London’s South Bank to protest the “deep silence” of arts organizations about the conflict.
The role of KVS is “to tell society in difficult times”, according to him, “whether it’s war or climate change… Culture is important and we have to put it first, especially after Covid.” De Cock, who has just published a collection of essays entitled Only Imagination Can Save Us, continues: “Culture as a means of healing and community is very important to me.” Theatre, by its very nature, is about sitting next to strangers and sharing the experience; De Cock doesn’t want it to sound like an echo chamber. “I don’t want to talk to people I already agree with.”
Thus, KVS has its own “city playwright”, Gerardo Salinas. De Cock explains his vision: “Let’s not ask what the city can give us, or what this building can give me as a way of life, but what can this theater mean to the city? What can we mean to someone walking past?” Salinas’ task is to search for stories that emerge in Brussels and to read the “trying” of the capital. “That is the soil from which we try to create,” says De Cock, calling the body of work they produce “tomorrow’s canon”. The KVS stage features actors representing the community. “The multi-ethnic, multi-gender company is the a serious aim,” he says. Only in this way can they “make the best quality of theater today”.
Sometimes that means reinterpreting the classical repertoire. On the day I visit, the studio space is presenting Iphigeneia, in which the sacrificial daughter of the same name tells her own story. But he is no pity party. Adanna Unigwe gives a stunning solo performance in Maaike Neuville and Tessa Hall’s dance theater production that balances a tone of anger, frustration, despair and sardonic humor. “How many scenes do I get in my own tragedy?” The heroine asks in disbelief. “Three! I counted them.”
The night before, the main stage is given to Supra – A Feast, written and directed by Nino Haratischwili. Her touring show uses the Georgian feast tradition to bring women’s experiences to the fore through various scenes and songs that mix personal and national experiences. It is performed by an entire cast of seven women, weaving in and out of an audience seated at huge dining tables who help themselves to the traditional cuisine. The open spirit is informal like an evening meal with friends, a trust shared over the cutlery and the clink of glasses.
De Cock, who oversees an open group of theater makers, elaborates on the idea of sharing the stage. “We don’t always want to have the power,” he says. “We share spaces. Last week an amateur company from Molenbeek played here. The center was full of young people.” But he is quick to point out that this was not some kind of philanthropic act, a gift given to non-professionals. “For us ‘knowing better’ or ‘handing down’ is just a participatory way of making art.”
Art must be collective, he says, if institutions like his “don’t want to be an island”. Art and politics are also inseparable, according to De Cock. The proof is in the programming. Next year KVS will present Junior Mthombeni’s RISA (Reckless Idiots Trying to Exonerate) which asks, “how can you be resilient through laughter?” One of the most popular recent productions is Mimi’s Shebeen by Alesandra Seutin, a tribute to the legacy of singer and activist Miriam Makeba.
“We don’t have the philosophy of saying, ‘What are we doing Shakespeare or Molière?'” he says. “You can be very proud to have that heritage but we don’t have it. We have Vondel, nobody knows him.” A bust of the Dutch dramatist Joost van den Vondel (1587-1679) surveys the street from outside the theatre. Don’t expect any traditional revivals of his plays anytime soon. “We are now” as De Cock puts it. And if they decide to stage Hamlet one day? “We can fuck up Shakespeare as much as we want and no one will mind. If we don’t put it up, what are we doing?”
He manages to recite a few lines from Sonnet 18, recalling a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon in his youth, before advancing his theory on Brussels’ international reputation for dance, which is regularly performed at KVS. It is partly due to the lack of a single dominant dramatist (like Molière in France), he believes. Then there is the 80s wave led by choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker. But it also relates to the nature of the city where so many languages are spoken (KVS uses two sets of subtitles for each production) and gestures become central to communication. “This is Babel. The show looks at other ways.”
We don’t always want to have the power – we share spaces
Michael O’Coileach
Belgium will have elections next year and Vlaams Belang is one of the far right rising parties in Europe. “If Flanders had a really fair government, that would be the worst thing. You can’t say it’s going to be successful,” he says. “It’s going to be a big problem for a lot of vulnerable people. We can’t let that happen.” Vlaams Belang’s goal is Flemish independence – does De Cock see that on the horizon? “Not in my time – it’s too complicated. I’m Flemish but against of divisions. I stand for working together, for inclusion, not exclusion.”
His outspoken views – including disagreement with the correct politics of one of his own board members – are a contrast to those arts leaders who prefer management talk. And while De Cock happily admits to his own ego, his vision for KVS is impressive. “The time of great directors who claim an institution and say, ‘This is mine and all this goes with me and I block the center for three months,’ … that is over. This is not the way to the best result.”
During Covid, when UK arts volunteers lacked support from industry or government, De Cock did what he could to keep his independent workforce active. After all, paying the artists is an investment in the future and keeps them in the profession. Some of the actors performed in hospitals and schools. Because of its determination to reopen the theater according to its own timetable, even though other venues were closed and waiting for the green light, the government worked directly with them to use KVS as a test case.
“I think it was wrong not to label us as an essential service,” he says bluntly. And when theaters were closed but educational institutions remained open, he and the choreographer Wim Vandekeybus and the slam poet Lisette Ma Neza went to teach theater in the schools. Now, when an artist is given six months to work at KVS, four of those may be creating a show and two teaching. “Ideally the theater should be used in more ways every day,” he says. And above all? “You have to protect the artist,” he says. After all, he says: “We are not here to look at the walls!”
