We caught up with actor Ingebora for an interview about A Pebble In The Road
Q: A Pebble in the Road is rooted in such specific memories of your childhood home. When did you first realise those memories might become a piece of theatre?
A: My grandmother was born in 1905 and died in 2008 when she was 103. So she lived through the 20th century in Lithuania, and a little more. First, I thought I should tell her story, but when going through her life I realised that she was the centre of a family without which there is no story. And there is no family story without the history of the country. So I tried to put those together.
Q: The apartment is recreated almost entirely through your words and memories. Was there one object, room or detail that immediately unlocked the story for you?
A: My family lived in it for 80 years. My mother, my aunt and their children grew up in this flat. People moved to different rooms and the use of rooms changed, but the floor was the same oak parquet, and the white-tiled, wood-burning stove was always there. And the white hook on the floor which held my granny’s door open in the day… Probably each member of the family would have their own object.
Q: You have said that the small hook holding your grandmother’s door open became one of your most vivid memories. Why do you think the smallest details often stay with us more strongly than the major events?
A: The smallest details sometimes unlock major events. Like smells. I don’t talk about them in the play, but I will never forget the smell of Christmas in the flat: freshly cut fir tree, the sweet smell of baking, and cooked sauerkraut with mushrooms — all together. Why do they stay with us? Maybe it’s our comfort and longing at the same time?
Q: The play explores war, occupation and independence, but it also contains humour and family warmth. How important was it to show that ordinary life and laughter continue even during periods of enormous upheaval?
A: People survive. What helps them? Perseverance, hope, love — the usual. Each family comes to their own way of coping, of getting through fear, destitution and hunger. Before she died, grandmother said two things: “I had a very hard life,” and, “It went very quickly — like a second.”
Q: Your grandmother and aunt are central figures in the production. What qualities did each of them pass on to you?
A: I can only hope. Granny was very patient — it would be great to have a little bit of that. And my aunt Siga was a talented musician — too late for that for me, but she taught me to appreciate music.
Q: You revisit your childhood under Soviet occupation through the perspective of the person you are today. Did creating the play change the way you understood your younger self or your family?
A: Yes. When I was little, I didn’t have a grasp of the scale of the damage to the minds of young people, and of the fear that both children and parents lived through. No speaking your mind, no non-standard thinking, a certain and rigid understanding of history. And the risk of telling and knowing about certain things — for example, that Lithuania didn’t join the USSR by its own free will, or that Hitler and Stalin made a pact in 1939 dividing up Europe between themselves. They were whispered to us when we were of a certain age, under great secrecy.
Q: The production is performed on a nearly bare stage with just one chair. As a performer, does that simplicity feel freeing, exposing or perhaps a little bit terrifying?
A: Our memories are in us. No stage furniture or props could replicate them. So it was easier not to have anything material, but to have it all in our heads. And it will be my fault if the audience is not also seeing it — and probably also seeing and remembering their own spaces and things.
Q: You have worked across film, television and theatre throughout your career. What can live theatre express about memory and personal history that the screen cannot?
A: There is no comparison in my connection with the audience in the theatre. It’s either there or not. One can’t fake it. There’s that chance to share the story. That hour. Being on stage is my way of communicating. If I could paint or create music, it would be that. But here I am, performing.
Q: Simon Stokes has described an extraordinary range of stories during his long career, while you have worked with major artists across the world. What did the two of you discover together while developing this very intimate piece?
A: We have worked together before. Simon is the best director for an actor. If you are able, he will make you the best you can be. It’s not always easy, but the effort is worth it. He also sees the big picture. And together we try to create the world that the audience will believe in.
Q: After audiences leave A Pebble in the Road, what do you hope they might think about when they picture their own idea of home?
A: When asked, “How are you?” my father would answer, “Like a pebble in the road — whoever isn’t lazy kicks me.” Lithuania is a pebble in the road of European history. When we think of home, we think of a place of safety and comfort. But home cannot exist in a vacuum. It is defined by where it is and the community which surrounds it.
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