We named Thrown Stone after an allegory by the 17th-century philosopher, Benedict de Spinoza. Opposing Descartes’ conception of free will, he argued that like thrown stones, we are set in motion by “the impulsion of an external cause” and are “necessarily determined by some external cause to exist and operate in a fixed and determinate manner.”
So much for free will.
But Spinoza goes deeper. He asks us to imagine the stone is “capable of thinking and knowing, that it is endeavouring, as far as it can, to continue to move.”
Such a stone, being conscious merely of its own endeavour and not at all indifferent, would believe itself to be completely free, and would think that it continued in motion solely because of its own wish.
This is that human freedom, which all boast that they possess, and which consists solely in the fact, that men are conscious of their own desire, but are ignorant of the causes whereby that desire has been determined.
So, if we’re all thrown stones — already in motion at the inception of consciousness — what is our agency? What is our power to affect our trajectory? And what happens when stones inevitably collide? These are questions that theatre is uniquely equipped to address. The recognition of our shared “thrown stone” predicament is a lever for compassion, and finds its best expression in the live space between artist and audience.
If all this seems a little too grandiose, you could just say we thought “Thrown Stone Theatre Company” sounded cool.