There is a classic philosophical puzzle known as the Ship of Theseus. It goes like this: the great ship of the hero Theseus is preserved in a harbor as a museum piece. Over the years, its old wooden planks begin to rot and are replaced, one by one, with new planks. Eventually, every single one of the original planks has been replaced. The question is: is this still the Ship of Theseus?

This ancient paradox is a perfect metaphor for the puzzle of human identity. Our cells are constantly replacing themselves. Our beliefs evolve. Our memories are edited and rewritten over time. So, are you the same person you were ten years ago? Are you the same person you were yesterday? My work as a Perceptionist often plays in the strange, uncanny valley created by this fluid sense of self.

Your Identity is a Story You Tell Yourself

Our powerful sense of having a stable, consistent self is, to a large degree, a story. It is a narrative that we are constantly authoring and editing, starring ourselves as the main character. To create a coherent story, we emphasize certain memories, downplay others, and connect disparate events into a meaningful plotline. Our identity is not a fixed, solid object; it is a creative work in progress.

A performance can playfully deconstruct this narrative. By drawing attention to a forgotten part of an audience member’s story, or by suggesting an alternative interpretation of a past event, I can create a momentary, uncanny, and thought-provoking shift in their sense of who they are.

The Malleable Nature of the Past

We like to think of our memory as a perfect, high-fidelity recording of past events. But decades of psychological research have shown this to be untrue. Our memory is not a recording device; it is a creative, reconstructive process. The past is far more malleable than we think.

In my work, I sometimes create experiences that are so vivid and personal that they can feel like a genuine memory to the person experiencing them. By blurring the line between what actually happened and what was artistically constructed in the present moment, we can explore the strange and unsettling idea that our own past is not entirely under our own control. This opens up a space for deep wonder and introspection about the nature of our own stories.

A Performance as a Gift of a New Identity

If our identity is a story, then a performance can be the gift of a new chapter. It can bestow a temporary, empowering new identity upon an audience member.

An effect I call the “Super Participant” is designed to do just this. For a few minutes, an ordinary person from the audience is made to feel that they have a world-class memory, or an uncanny intuition, or the ability to instantly detect a lie. The performance gives them, as a gift, a temporary identity as someone with a remarkable skill. This is the “spectator as hero” principle in its purest form. It’s a way of giving someone a new, empowering, and impossible story to tell about themselves, and that feeling can have a lasting, positive impact on how they see themselves long after the show is over.

Our identity is a beautiful, fluid, and paradoxical story. A performance can be a way to playfully explore that paradox, creating uncanny and profound experiences that make us question, appreciate, and perhaps even rewrite the story of who we are. So, I leave you with a question: if you could add one new, impossible chapter to your own life story, what would it be?

Internal Links: The Story in Your Head: How Narrative Shapes Your World, Is Your Memory Real? The Malleable Nature of Personal History

External Link: A great video explanation of the Ship of Theseus paradox from TED-Ed