by Safety precautions during its late 19th-century renovation gave Brussels’ KVS Flemish Theater a set of stepped balconies with fire escapes wrapped around its exterior. But if the building’s distinctive design succeeds in attracting the public, then maverick artistic director Michael De Cock has proven equally adept at attracting them.
“We represent the city, we are an urban theater,” says De Cock, who took office in 2016. “We want to be a crossroads where people can meet, share emotions, talk and be free,” he continues over a coffee in the Theater Bar in a modern housing estate opposite the historic Koninklijke Vlaamse Schouwburg main house. That philosophy means that, when I visit, the KVS lobby has been dedicated to an artist-led gathering in response to the war between Israel and Hamas, during which the names of the victims are read. Its model is that of a dynamic theater that functions like a town square – “you have to keep up with the times” – and is in stark contrast to many theaters in the UK. Last week, cultural workers gathered on London’s South Bank to protest the “profound silence” of arts organizations over the conflict.
KVS’s role is to “give a narrative to a society in difficult times”, he believes, “whether it’s war or climate change… Culture is important and we have to put it at the forefront, especially after Covid.” De Cock, who just published a collection of essays titled Only Imagination Can Save Us, continues: “Culture as a means of healing and community building is very important to me.” Theatre, by its very nature, is about sitting alongside strangers and sharing the experience; De Cock never wants it to resemble an echo chamber. “I don’t want to talk to people I already agree with.”
As such, KVS has its own “urban 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 career, but rather what this theater can mean for the city. What can we mean to someone passing by? Salinas’ assignment is to look for stories that emerge in Brussels and “try to read” the capital. “That’s the terrain we’re trying to build from,” De Cock says, calling the work they produce “the canon of tomorrow.” The KVS stage is duly populated by actors representing the community. “The real goal is a multilingual, multiethnic and gender diverse company,” he says. Only in this way will they be able to “make theater of the best quality today.”
Sometimes that means reinterpreting classical repertoire. On the day of my visit, the studio space presents Iphigeneia, in which the sacrificed daughter of the same name tells her own story. But it’s not a pity party. Maaike Neuville and Tessa Hall’s dance-theater production features a stunning solo performance by Adanna Unigwe, balancing a tone of anger, frustration, despair and sardonic humor. “How many scenes do I have in my own tragedy?” the heroine asks in disbelief. “Three! I counted them.”
The night before, the main stage will be dedicated to Supra – A Feast, written and directed by Nino Haratischwili. Her touring show uses the tradition of a Georgian festival to foreground women’s experiences through a variety of scenes and songs that mix personal and national experiences. It is performed by an all-female cast of seven, weaving in and out of an audience seated at huge dining tables serving traditional cuisine. The informal and open spirit is similar to a dinner with friends, confidences shared between the clatter of cutlery and the clinking of glasses.
De Cock, who oversees an open ensemble of theater makers, delves into the notion of sharing a stage. “We don’t always want to have power,” he says. “We share spaces. Last week an amateur company from Molenbeek played here. The place 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. “It’s not about us ‘knowing better’ or ‘transmitting’ but rather a participatory way of making art.”
Art must be collective, he says, if institutions like his “do not want to become an island.” Art and politics are also inseparable, believes De Cock. The proof is in the programming. Next year, KVS will present RISA (Reckless Idiots Seeking Absolution) by Junior Mthombeni, which asks: “How can you be resilient through laughter?” One of her most acclaimed recent productions is Alesandra Seutin’s Mimi’s Shebeen, a tribute to the legacy of singer and activist Miriam Makeba.
“We don’t have the philosophy of saying, ‘What are Shakespeare or Molière doing?’” 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 playwright Joost van den Vondel (1587-1679) looks out over the street from outside the theater. He just doesn’t expect any commercial revival of his works anytime soon. “We are in the now,” is how De Cock puts it. What if one day they decide to stage Hamlet? “We can fuck with Shakespeare as much as we want and no one will care. If we don’t screw it up, what are we going to do?
He stops to recite a few lines from Sonnet 18, recalling a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon in his youth, before setting out his theory about the international reputation of dance in Brussels, which is regularly exhibited at the KVS. In his opinion, this is partly due to the absence of a dominant playwright (such as Molière in France). Then there is the ’80s wave led by choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker. But it is also due to the very nature of the city where so many languages are spoken (KVS uses two sets of surtitles for each production) and gesture becomes an integral part of communication. “This is Babel. Expression seeks other paths.”
We don’t want to always have power: we share spaces
Michael Decock
Belgium will have elections next year and Vlaams Belang is one of several far-right parties on an upward trajectory in Europe. “If Flanders had a far-right government, that would be the worst. “You can’t just say it will happen,” he says. “It will be a big problem for many vulnerable people. “We cannot allow that to happen.” The goal of Vlaams Belang is Flemish independence. Does De Cock see it on the horizon? “Not in my time, it’s too complicated. I am flamenco but I am against separatism. “I am in favor of working together, of uniting us, not of excluding us.”
His outspoken views – which include disagreeing with the right-wing politics of one of his own board members – contrast with those of arts leaders who prefer a managerial discourse. And while De Cock happily admits his own ego, his view of KVS is admirably collective. “The era of great directors who claim an institution and say: ‘This is mine and all this goes to me and I block the headquarters for three months’… that’s over. It is not the path to the best result.”
During Covid, when UK arts freelancers were under-supported by either the industry or the government, De Cock did everything she could to keep her freelance workforce active. After all, paying artists is an investment in the future and keeps them in the profession. Some of the actors performed in hospitals and schools. Their determination to reopen the theater on their own schedule, while other venues were closed and waiting for the green light, led the government to work 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 candidly. And when theaters closed but educational institutions remained open, he, choreographer Wim Vandekeybus and slam poet Lisette Ma Neza went to teach theater in schools. Now, when an artist is assigned six months of work at KVS, four of them may be for creating an exhibition and two for teaching. “Ideally, theater would be used in more ways every day,” he says. And above all? “You have to protect the artist,” he says. After all, he adds, “We’re not here to look at walls!”
