tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22310396112579931332024-03-13T10:09:40.518+00:00Spill: OverspillCritical writing in response to the Spill Festival: the UK’s newest festival of performance, live art and experimental theatre.Mary Patersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819214156571727064noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-88397279256422514892009-05-30T11:33:00.014+01:002009-06-05T16:41:18.386+01:00Overspill: Shuffling the Deck<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6etFC5r86mQH6m6j0X8HQfNuKJ4i5s6D51H692lEgxS_37adOwXEAshU6tl_NTVRBx0I1EJqA2BcohLKl0lvR34-5JZGIfhkn5bKUEh3xIoM03XlgFD2yWJLXjLAPRMczsW_hxXSfm_s/s1600-h/Tarot+image2.jpg"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOo64MNvyQmoAXr_quXap-_Z23vZKEVemt4ZPxKRB4wudBIjEnsz2ZAATlbSfYYHVTL5AD8EU3glFPr8JLPKAJw0_94FaD-2HuiCBWSwbWmMgZH6V7c4e774FRQt9u3PrfuJSOaIbwet8e/s1600-h/Tarot260.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOo64MNvyQmoAXr_quXap-_Z23vZKEVemt4ZPxKRB4wudBIjEnsz2ZAATlbSfYYHVTL5AD8EU3glFPr8JLPKAJw0_94FaD-2HuiCBWSwbWmMgZH6V7c4e774FRQt9u3PrfuJSOaIbwet8e/s200/Tarot260.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341565464118401378" border="0" /></a><div><p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In the words of Robert Pacitti, in the introduction to the limited edition SPILL Tarot pack, ‘the tarot stands as viable a means of interpreting the world as any other – including science, philosophy and mathematics – and I defy any sceptic to prove otherwise.’ A Tarot pack is a set of 78 cards most often used, in English speaking countries at least, for the purposes of divination (in France and Italy it’s also used for playing games). The pack is made up of the Major and Minor Arcana, people and things that represent the elements of our world and the characters within it, and Tarot readings are carried out in relation to spiritual enlightenment, psychic communication, and the occult. But, as Robert Pacitti points out, a reading is as much an act of interpretation as one of prediction – the meaning of the cards reflects the reader’s frame of reference as well as her frame of mind. It’s this ability to crystallise thought that gives the cards their power.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In the case of the SPILL pack, the cards’ power is enhanced by the symbolic resonance of the images, and the way they have been produced. The Major Arcana – character types that include The Fool, The Hermit, The Moon, and everything in-between – are pictures of artists and other contemporary ‘mavericks’ from across the fields of art, academia, cultural activism and beyond. I have just cut the pack in three to reveal Robert Pacitti – Artistic Director of the Pacitti Company and creator, producer and curator of the SPILL Festival (‘Death’); Lois Kiedan – co-founder and director of the Live Art Development Agency (‘Justice’); and Empress Stah – trapeze artist, Neo Cabaret performer and producer (‘The Star’). The pictures were taken by the photographer Manuel Vason, who has devised a unique working method in which he collaborates with his subjects to capture performances made for the camera. As a result, the SPILL Tarot pack does not just help crystallise the thoughts of the person using it; it also goes some way to crystallise the processes of collaboration, challenge and knowledge-sharing inherent in the SPILL Festival itself.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Coming at the start of the pack, The Fool is the journeyman of the Tarot, an innocent and a visionary who may be drawn in any direction by the rest of the cards. As such, the Fool embodies the reader and all her potential. The SPILL Tarot Fool is a figure in mid-air, leaping with abandon against the greying landscape of modern agriculture. A stony, pit-holed path winds through fields of dried out crops; an energy pylon and other industrial buildings line the horizon. As s/he jumps, the androgynous figure of the Fool stretches out of her newspaper costume, and pulls her mouth tight between a grin and a grimace. Above, a small clear moon makes an early appearance before sunset. Behind, a dog looks warily at the strange traveller with her eyes covered and her feet bare.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It’s hard to tell if the Fool is jumping for joy or desperation. She exists in both day and night, in the freedom of outdoors and within the cultivation of industrial agriculture. Suspended in the air, suspended in time and suspended between places, this figure embodies the ‘unbridled primal energy’ of the Fool.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But the card is also a picture of Rajni Shah, whose performance piece Dinner with America, was programmed into the SPILL Festival; and it’s easy to see how, like her performance, this image draws on the potency of symbols that slip in and out of recognition. But the energy of this suspended image – with Shah’s head thrown back and her arms stretching away from her body– must also be down to the eye of the photographer, Manuel Vason, and the synergy of the collaboration. There was also another collaborator in this image – Lucille Acevedo-Jones, a costume designer who works regularly with Shah, and who designed the newspaper dress for this Fool.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><br /></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6etFC5r86mQH6m6j0X8HQfNuKJ4i5s6D51H692lEgxS_37adOwXEAshU6tl_NTVRBx0I1EJqA2BcohLKl0lvR34-5JZGIfhkn5bKUEh3xIoM03XlgFD2yWJLXjLAPRMczsW_hxXSfm_s/s320/Tarot+image2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341578251403634594" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></span><p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Like all the cards of the Major Arcana in this Tarot pack, the Fool is dripping with the residue of multiple and combined professional practices – the traces of as many professional practices, perhaps, as there are knowledge systems touched by Tarot itself. By bringing together this collection of people inside the rich symbolic web of Tarot , the project of the SPILL Tarot pack represents the working methodology behind the festival. As a whole, SPILL 09 was a collaboration between artists, producers, venues and audiences across a wide terrain – large theatres as well as site-specific spaces; performers familiar to London audiences as well as artists and work that was wholly unfamiliar; live art, theatre, performance, explicit bodies, music, dance, and much more. It brought artists to London from all over the world, and it did the same for audiences. As such, it reflected the vision of the Pacitti Company and its Director, Robert Pacitti. But SPILL was also woven from the enthusiasm, interest and sometimes controversy sparked in the minds and conversations of the people who participated by performing, producing or watching the work. Just like Tarot, it offered up glimpses of human experience, with the desire to be read and absorbed into others’ lives.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">SPILL: Overspill was an attempt to respond to the energy and achievement of SPILL through writing that respected the form and content of the festival and its processes, and that developed with the festival over time. Together, the seven writers involved (</span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=david+berridge"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">David Berridge</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=rachel+lois+clapham"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rachel Lois Clapham</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=mary+kate+connolly"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Kate Connolly</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=alex+eisenberg"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=eleanor+hadley+kershaw"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor Hadley Kershaw</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=mary+paterson"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/search?q=theron+schmidt"><span style="color: rgb(0, 32, 222);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Theron Schmidt</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">) created 55 pieces of writing. As well as responding to the work as we saw it during the festival, Overspill writers investigated the processes behind the finished product – interviewing artists, visiting rehearsals, and in most cases developing a collaborative process with the artist. We addressed questions to the audience and, within the confines of free blogging software, we tried to experiment with form. There were three days of writing workshops, two peer critiques, a complicated group editing system and ticket schedule, and one </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/overspill-visions-of-excess-part-1-2100.html"><span style="color: rgb(72, 35, 131);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">all night live writing performance</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. Like the SPILL Tarot, each individual blog post represents a complex web of professional practices and collaborations; what you’re reading here is the first card in the deck. We hope you will shuffle your own way through, and use this site to crystallise your thoughts in response to the SPILL Festival. Please make comments below, or email opendialogues@gmail.com</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 16px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p face="Georgia" size="14px" style="margin: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson is Co-Director of Open Dialogues. mary@opendialogues.com</span></p></div>Mary Patersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819214156571727064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-13566847546077545082009-05-28T17:56:00.002+01:002009-05-28T18:01:34.068+01:00Pieces of America 2 - by Rajni Shah and Mary Kate Connolly<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b>Pieces of America 2</b> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A very sideways look at the experience of performing and attending Rajni Shah’s </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=22">Dinner with America</a> </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">in real and conceptual space</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">…</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">co-authored by Rajni Shah and Mary Kate Connolly</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The following is a template designed for the consumption and digestion of splinters of cultural reference…a lump in the throat, a twist in the gut, a warmth in the heart... </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A cavernous dining hall envelopes you. Upon entering, you cast aside fear and difference, strike up friendship, and explore common ground. A vast Honduran mahogany dining table inhabits the centre in isolated splendour. The linen is embellished in sparse Lutheran hand with the words ‘Pride, Hope, Kinship, Drive’. You are here with others. No one feels left out or passed over.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am waiting, sheathed in plastic. Blind. A sweat in the palm, a loss of balance, a careful slow movement of the lashes. How many of them are there? What do they look like? Are they smiling or frowning or talking? Do they think they are making eye contact with me? Have they sat down? Do they feel welcome?</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Whilst milling around the vast table and reaching out to one another, you are presented with the starter of the evening: the Optimistic Amuse Bouche. This is designed to whet the palate, and purge the body of negative expectation and prejudice. It is light, fizzy with promise, and lasts only for a moment on the tongue before dissolving.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"></p><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">250 grams of the ice of the Delaware and the grit of the people crossing it</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">50 grams of the majesty of untouched landscapes</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">5 grams of the sheer size and volume of all things American</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shake vigorously till all ice crushed and blended with other ingredients – serve in a shot glass…</span></span></li></ul><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The game is on. I am in the space with you. Solo voices of U.S. citizens punctuate this quiet part of the evening. I have met them all, can picture their faces and surroundings – each now reinhabits that place and time we shared two years ago. Most have moved on to new cities, lives, and some to a new realm of being. We are dining with the dead, the angry, the ungracious and the hopeful. </span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Guests are called to table, and invited to share in fellowship and the spoils of a beguiling landmass. Presently, a vast melting pot arrives.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You tentatively devour the space we share. It is most probably not what you expected. I try to alleviate our frustrations by seducing you. Waves of success and exhaustion wash over us. I am blonde and blue-eyed. You are staring at me. I look into your eyes but my sadness and anger and eagerness make you shy.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Main Course: Promising Stew</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Base ingredient: The power of the American identity, and the endurance of the souls and hearts and bosoms of the American people.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"></p><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Place in a large pot with 250grams of Patriotism. Heat till scalding.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Temper with the Songs of the South, the Validation of the Individual and the Fear of the Other.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leave to simmer, until a myriad of histories and distant cultures dragged to the shores in famine and slave ships, have all been absorbed into the mix, peppering it with the flavours of far off lands.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finish and mature the dish with healthy dollops of the captains of industry, the soaring bricks and mortar of shiny sky-scrapers, the chic New England style of Boston and Cape Cod, the airy art spaces of New York, the balm of Californian breezes.</span></span></li></ul><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am trying to hold this space. Voices crowd in. I am singing. You have travelled into the cradles and fields of your minds. I am still trying to hold the space. Though of course, of course, this is an impossible task. You have left and some come back. This space is one of coming and going.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Side-dish 1: </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Forebear’s Bread</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A simple unleavened bread – coarse and sometimes hard to digest, it is formed from the sparse sensibilities of Lutheran and Calvinist settlers, cooked by the steam of growth, and transformed into a hard-working, conservative outlook, impeccably mannered, friendly, and a touch distant.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is nothing other than being with you in the room. All our trajectories collapse into one pointed moment. You are with me now. One last song. We have come full circle.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Side-dish 2:</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Moulded Faith Rice</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A sticky sweet rice, made from varying individual grains, moulded together to form a wholesome, loving solid which places the family at the centre of life, which places immense faith in a benign god, which places trust in other people, and which places emphasis on striving ahead as one.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have made an attempt, that is all. As I shed the layers of this shiny blonde outfit, you watch from the darkness. I have no idea who you are any more. I look at you and there is pity and engagement in the space between us, but I could not say exactly where it sits. I take a practical approach to undressing. Now your thoughts cram the darkness. It is comforting. You witness my body as a shared landmark. I make my escape. </span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Side-dish 3:</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fun and Frolics Fondue</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A frothy, synthetically-chewy dip. This contains the lure of consumerism, the whiff of fast food, the playful yellow beacons of taxis on Broadway, the gushing emotion of sitcoms and movies, the stars in the eyes of waitresses working the graveyard shift in a Hollywood diner, the preacher touting for souls outside the Elvis chapel in Vegas, and the endearing twang of ‘American-English’.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My numb feet cross the space, blundering between you and the crumbs of mulch. We find ourselves in different locations. I have left it behind. The burial of something. Preparation for a harvest. Cleaning.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Side dish 4:</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Troubled Gravy</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A bitter sauce which should neither be avoided, nor allowed to subsume the other flavours of the meal. Ingredients include the power and status accredited to violence, the despair of the sick unable to afford healthcare, the segregation and division of race, colour and creed, the elevation of image, and the furtherance of one nation above all others.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We watch a movie together. You pretend not to notice that I am by your side. I am afraid that at this point you are looking for the end. Some of you leave the space. I wish you would stay. But of course this is part of the deal between us. You come and go. We stay. It is almost time for the feast.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dessert 1:</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The first is Traditional Apple Pie with lashings of white peaks of cream. Warm and homely, it looks to a safe and prosperous past, a security and assurance that values were intact, that the future was golden and that America would prevail.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oranges, Mandarins, Bananas, Apples, Dates, Pears, Plums, Dried Apricots, Chocolate, Chrysanthemums, Amaretti. How ridiculous. We consider making the world kinder.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dessert 2:</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The second is Mississippi Mud Pie. This dessert should be served cold. It is an intriguing, yet not overly sweet dish, formed by the power of hope, now muddied with change and the fear of disappointment. It looks unflinchingly forward to an uncertain future.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is painfully awkward to find our way into this space of conversation. I come from a different trajectory into this feast. But having negotiated our differences, we sometimes fall into an entirely surprising conversation for a moment.</span></span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The lethargy of post-feasting cloaks you in warmth. Conversation wafts and thins with the rising steam of bitter black coffee…it is time to leave. Shyness tinges departures with awkwardness as new found fellowships forged amid the clamour, are met with chill night air. Smiles and connections linger, stored for a future time, a future feast…a lump in the throat, a twist in the gut, a warmth in the heart... </span></span></p> <br /><div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 15.0px Times New Roman; color: #333333"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rajni Shah is a performance maker, writer, producer and curator. </span><a href="http://www.rajnishah.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; color: #0022ed"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">www.rajnishah.com</span></span></a></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 15.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 17.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mary Kate Connolly is a freelance writer on performance and live art based in London</span></p></div>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-36187242514136581302009-05-24T10:15:00.004+01:002009-05-26T14:12:03.377+01:00Elevated Exhibitionism<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL4_nOtTcHF3SdRMN9lw4H1NwJLqOl_QWtN5i6ebbnv4h3ZghnWOVEYnZiZltLGDz1ROQY6xTdV_PIsUyYjqFoAmBgjFId1O9QhzU4ndolFZMiXB-9xp86noozWZNB9gbaLBcMqaYlZc/s1600-h/johnny260x400.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL4_nOtTcHF3SdRMN9lw4H1NwJLqOl_QWtN5i6ebbnv4h3ZghnWOVEYnZiZltLGDz1ROQY6xTdV_PIsUyYjqFoAmBgjFId1O9QhzU4ndolFZMiXB-9xp86noozWZNB9gbaLBcMqaYlZc/s400/johnny260x400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340119737855885234" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color:#482383;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=30"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I Feel Love!</span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">George Chakravarthi</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Soho Square </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It was midday on Saturday 25th and I was walking through Soho Square Gardens on the way to an Overspill writers meeting when I first encountered George (a.k.a. exhibitionist and aspiring porn-star Johnny Shekontai). George, or rather Johnny, was wearing lace up boots, a delicate shiny cape draped across his shoulders, tight go-go outfit complete with tiny tight shorts and a skimpy top. It was cold and not a particularly great day to dance to Donna Summers’ infamous 1977 dance tune ‘I Feel Love’ for 8 hours on top of an 8ft high mock-stone plinth. But that’s what Johnny was going to do. And stood by the plinth, with cigarette dangling from his mouth, tight shorts, caped shoulders and various SPILL assistants fussing around him, he looked like a camp middleweight boxer about to enter the ring and undergo a gruelling bout. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Of course he was. But Johnny’s 13 rounds were not with a fellow greased-up sports professional trying to knock the crap out of him. It was with us, the public. He was disco dancing up there for our titillation, our delight. And his performance would be gruelling. Cold at first, later tired, sweaty and hungry. We would go about our busy day. Meanwhile, he would be there, still dancing, vulnerable to passers-by, their stares, their questioning looks. The question was would Johnny ‘feel love’ as Donna insisted she did, and would it last the whole 8 hours? Moreover, would we feel love for Johnny? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I Feeeeel Looo- ooo- ooo- ve. ...I Feeeel Loo- ooo- ooo- oo- ve</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It’s 2pm. Donna is singing the same phrase laconically over and over again, her voice full of desire – for the song, for a lover, for any one of us here listening now. The drum beat and slight melody always pushing towards climax but never quite getting there; it’s a looped, tantric disco sex act of a song that leaves us excitedly on the edge – of dancing, of sex, of all those sweaty nights in clubs when you definitely did feel love, or something close to it. The music is infectious. I fight the urge to jump up and share the plinth with Johnny and relive my own go-go nostalgia of the 1990’s Manchester club scene. No, perhaps not sharing. The scene back then was quite competitive; what I really want to do is knock Johnny off the plinth and have the stage to myself. To feel love from strangers, if only for a moment. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Meanwhile, Johnny stares abstractly out into the middle distance whilst he bops around. He slips in and out of his groove. At times, his movements are energised, as if the mood has suddenly taken him or he has just noticed a camera trained on him and is showcasing his best moves. At others he looks bored and fatigued, as if he is trying to drum up enough energy to simply carry on. Passers-by stare, some dance around the plinth, clap and take photographs. Others munch sandwiches – oblivious- sat on the balding grass of the gardens. The temperature drops. It gets wet and grey. And Johnny dances on. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I Feeeeel Looo- ooo- ooo- ve. ...I Feeeel Loo- ooo- ooo- oo- ve</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At 4pm the music is still pumping but Johnny is gone from the plinth. Is this supposed to happen? Has some over excited fan had him away? Or is he on a toilet break, gone for food? My mind wonders to thoughts of Johnny queued up at the Starbucks round the corner on Oxford Street, cuddling a latté in his silvery cape. I imagine him to be chagrined at the lack of green room or personalised trailer. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Minus Johnny, the plinth is no longer a fun podium for Johnny’s exhibitionist escapades, or a makeshift 8ft disco; it has a serious, formal air of a public sculpture. It looks lumpen, monolithic and uncannily like the base of the military, valedictory and male historical statues just round the corner in Trafalgar Square. I Feeeeel Looo- ooo- ooo- ve. ...I Feeeel Loo- ooo- ooo- oo- ve bounces rhythmically off its cold surface. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The spectre of dancing Johnny haunts the empty plinth and this latency roots me to the spot. I stand and wait, longing for him to return and reclaim his rightful, slightly sad, gay, hedonistic, black, go-go dancing place in history, in society, in Soho Square. But he doesn’t come back before I have to leave. The pathos of Johnny Shekontai - his dancing marathon, his aspirational porn star show name and elevated exhibitionism - are monumentalised in the now empty, hollow plinth. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rachel Lois Clapham is Co-Director of Open Dialogues</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-9017555690205232272009-05-18T10:15:00.005+01:002009-05-19T14:43:22.841+01:00Fickle Cheese and Performance, by David Berridge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWBNwOoXU98vP4o1mpA5yNDci2RRPrs5-EgyA-Al4_3ICh1rNrGPRryhpc6O4RP-p9w1Vk8zM2Zp1rCd47qUwxywHM8deOqTzulqilmqx4B08NOQTyIbCOoiSyMUoDXYYlrI8VP1uDto/s1600-h/Harminder+Halo2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWBNwOoXU98vP4o1mpA5yNDci2RRPrs5-EgyA-Al4_3ICh1rNrGPRryhpc6O4RP-p9w1Vk8zM2Zp1rCd47qUwxywHM8deOqTzulqilmqx4B08NOQTyIbCOoiSyMUoDXYYlrI8VP1uDto/s400/Harminder+Halo2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337529865887451650" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"The Modes of Al-Ikseer" </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; color: #0020de"><a href="http://spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=23"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Harminder Singh Judge</span></a><span style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Shunt Vaults 13th & 14th April</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There’s no telling what might turn up in some corner of Shunt Vaults, the huge network of railway arches that comprised the venue for the Triple Bill. After the woman painted in gold, and the man urinating whilst stood in a bucket playing the saxophone, there was a bit of standing around on Triple Bill night, before heading off to another dark corner, where Harminder Singh Judge rounded off the evening stood in a lake of slowly curdling milk.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Judge was in the middle of the lake of milk, slowly rotating on a small round wooden disc. Around his waist was a girdle of neon writing. For maybe forty-five minutes he slowly rotated, churning-tubes dangling from his body into the milk, drone-music blaring, the durational hook for the audience of slowly making out the sentence of neon words as he turned. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It was absorbing, if demanding stuff at the end of a long evening. Judge had a serious, focussed look throughout and there was a definite, challenging sense from the off that this was it for the duration. How long does it take to make cheese I wondered? I had no idea. Were we here in Shunt until this sloppy lake became a hard cheddar-like mass? It seemed unlikely. But duration is tricky to relate to necessity - on the second night the show was shortened, I heard, by twenty minutes. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At the end of an evening of intense, focussed performances I was finding it hard to concentrate. But maybe that was the point of such a performance. One’s mind wandered and drifted and when and if it returned there was Judge, another twenty degrees on, the sentence a few letters closer to revelation, if you hadn’t forgotten what the bit before had said and needed to wait for the whole thing to come round again, like me. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’m being deliberately a bit flippant about this. There was a serious and challenging presence to this work, an engagement with rituals and Hindu traditions I knew nothing about, but which also were well aware of the slightly ludicrous situation in which they found themselves, both SPILL and Shunt Vaults and performance art more broadly. This isn’t my flippancy alone I’m talking about here - it’s how the piece worked the flippancy into both its seriousness and its wannabee cheese.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So somewhere in Shunt there was the Hindu myth of Churning the Milky Ocean, where Mount Mandaranchai was the dasher (churning tool) and Vasuki, King of serpents, was the churning rope (thankyou Wikipedia). If Singh’s body formed one layer of commentary on this source, there was another accretion in store. Two figures in white appeared at the lakeside, barefoot, wearing drums. They stood calm and posed, although around them stewards were busy spreading out blue hand towels, ready for drying their milky feet when they re-emerged. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I was struggling - whilst watching and again, now, whilst writing - to find another vocabulary for this - that acknowledged the specific types of drums and clothing. But I didn’t have the words. Then it happened. Revelation! Transcendence! Well, actually, no, or, rather, yes, if transcendence relates to a sudden soundtrack shift into Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus, the two white robed guys playing along on their drums. It was a dramatic shift, hugely energising. The man next to me was mouthing along happily; feet were tapped; time became more familiar again. It was up to Judge to maintain the continuity, keeping the same mental focus, rotating, churning, same as ever, absorbing Dave et al into his concentration. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As well as enormous well-being, it was curious to think what happened in this shift towards Basildon’s finest. Partly, it was, after Jeremy Deller and Nicholas Abrahams feature documentary The Posters Come From The Walls, further assertion of Depeche Mode’s art-world renaissance. It was an assertion of connections across cultures and styles, the continuities and the differences. It also functioned as the eventual punch line to a long and drawn out joke, as, too, a sense of the age of the 1980’s as the great Thatcherite age of cheese production. I imagined the same performance crashing into a Stock, Aitken and Waterman track.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All well and good, but still no cheese. It was curdling more the second night, apparently, and I should have known better than to expect actual full scale dairy production from performance art. The performance ended with Harminder still the same as ever in the middle of the lake. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Feeling a bit of a Peeping Tom, I hung around to see how he made it out, the mundane after the ritual. I won’t tell you. There was no need to do this, really, other than a kind of backstage nosiness. His performance had itself explored this kind of interconnection, whilst avoiding any of the pitfall binaries such as on-stage and off, west and east, process and product, milk and cheese. </span></p>Mary Patersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819214156571727064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-44939129716705531742009-05-14T09:36:00.004+01:002009-05-15T10:14:12.158+01:00Notes on Listen My Secret Fetish<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Richard Haynes is an award winning clarinet player working across performance, improvisation and composition. For SPILL Richard presented </span><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=17"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; color: #482383"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Listen, My Secret Fetish</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, an experimental contemporary music performance that explores sexual fetish in four parts: Part 1, Breath Control by David Young; Part 2, Interference by Richard Barrett; Part 3, The Sadness of Detail by Chris Dench; Part 4, Press Release by David Lang. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rachel Lois’ review of Listen, My Secret Fetish is </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/05/fetishized-encounters-with-clarinettist.html"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; color: #0020de"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">here</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Below are excerpts from a conversation Richard and Rachel Lois had about the work:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.......................................................................</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Can you comment about how the four parts in Listen My Secret Fetish were different for you, musically? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: Each of the scenes explored different musical territory and therefore my mental and physical relationship to each work was, had to be, carefully controlled. This was perhaps the biggest challenge in the show: 'resetting' my approach for each work during the performance. Each composition presented particular technical challenges, as well as completely different moods that had to be immediately engaged and maintained throughout the work. Extreme rates of change, as well as sustained control of tension over long periods of time are some of the greater challenges that face performers. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: What significance do the different costumes have for you in the work?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: I'm quite attached to the total image of each of the scenes in 'Listen my Secret Fetish', as the costumes carry the weight of my extra-musical imaginings resulting from playing the pieces. As a classical musician, one appears in concert gear most of the time (for men, a combination of black, white or tastefully coloured clothes, often, not to out-weigh the presence of the music). My hope would be that a costume, for a musician, can deeply affect the performance of a work; and for an audience member, that it can deeply affect the interpretation of the composition. The costumes in Listen….represent, in a way, some of what I value in the works: innocence, vulnerability, violence, strength, fragility as well as suggestions of the religious, the animal, the masculine, the pre-pubescent, and the organic. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: What is the breathing technique you use in Breath Control and where does it come from? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: Circular breathing is employed perhaps most famously by the indigenous peoples of Australia, however this practice is just as prominent in music from Asia and the Middle East. It is a technique that has appeared prescriptively in classical music composition within the last fifty years; before this time it was almost certainly used out of necessity by classical musicians to realise uneconomically written scores (writing a note whose duration is longer than a single breath would allow is certainly not the mistake of the composer: the work of the musician is to realise how to adequately execute the passage, with or without breathing circularly). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: What is fetishistic about the performance Breath Control for you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: This work suggests to me a scene in which a sexualised act could be played out. It places the visual object of the school boy and the urine of the boy in a position to be wanted; just as it displays one's physical prowess (it has to be said, circular breathing and urinating at the same time is not easy). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Can you tell me about the role the four scores play in your performance?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: Breath Control uses a graphic score; for this performance it was a linear watercolour painting by the composer to suggest the colour of the sound, hung from the lighting rig. Each 'sentence' of the music is one minute long and I observe a timer to help me proceed through the work. Interference is a maniacally notated work, often with two or three systems at a time for the voice (much more than a clarinettist has to normally deal with); contrabass clarinet and pedal bass drum. At the time of writing, I'm not interested in memorising this piece, however I think the image of the naked shadow turning pages definitely has something quasi-fanatical about it; like a ruler preaching to his people or a strange sermon from some kind of extremist priest. The Sadness of Detail is also deftly notated. However I enjoyed greatly the task of committing this work to memory. It is sincerely a pleasure to play 'off by heart' and I hope to do it like that many more times. Press Release is also a long 10 page score, I reduced it using graph paper and my own kind of symbol-system to prompt the various rhythms and pitch sets.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Are you equally interested in the body of the instrument as fetish object, or is the pleasure all in the playing?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: My thoughts on that are more connected with the fact being musician; there is a certain amount of object worship that takes place, an advanced respect and understanding of your equipment. Some musicians are certainly obsessed with their instruments bordering on fetishism; that is something that I'm growing towards, rather than away from. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Can you say a bit about the powerful, visceral effect playing has on you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: I really don't know where to begin. A musician develops such a close relationship to every (particularly solo) piece that she or he plays. It must be like this, as the musician has to bring to the stage the thousands of details that exist in the music, which really can only be achieved through decades of training. I suppose I would have to add to that, that witnessing this coming-together of performative elements (breath, musculature, movement, wood, metal, gut, glass etc.) is something just as captivating as the resulting sound itself; indeed it is pieces like Interference that do to some level attempt to emphasise the transitions between various techniques and overtly separated physical layers. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The music performed in 'Listen...' is incredibly emotional, it's no surprise that the music should be at times incomprehensible as the myriad manifestations of fetish-influenced sexual practice are often just as baffling. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: I was really struck by the sound the different instruments made, almost a sounding of the body of the instrument itself instead of the music that it might typically produce. Like the sound of your breath running through open keys, instead of playing its particular note. It felt like the non-notes being played with equal emphasis. Can you comment on this?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: I love this grey area: where does music stop and noise start? Indeed the term 'music' today is extremely broad and there is plenty of it out there that is made out of what we would commonly call 'noise'. This grey area argument is also a result of the proliferation of highly produced music AND conservative classical music training, whereby many if not all natural non-notated sounds of the instrument are practiced out of the technique of a musician or forcibly removed from the recording by way of brilliant technology. Contemporary music composition often attempts to access this transitional space, but often it's just a reality of live performance. In terms of the works performed in 'Listen...' it comes down to what the composer has instructed me to do with my instruments, and what decisions I made during the process of learning the music. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: There were bits in The Sadness of Detail where I felt the instrument was being deliberately pushed, to somehow play beyond its (and your) normal limits or capacity, whether to do with breath, or the instrument whining or squeaking at the end of sequences. Can you comment on this?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: The Sadness of Detail is a beautiful piece of music, it is however very strenuous to perform live, and from memory. It is certainly the piece on the programme least designed to test the limits of the instrument, although it does employ the full range of the clarinet; glissandi (sliding from one pitch to another), quarter tones and eighth-tones (quarter or eighth the length of a normal tone), and a dynamic range from ppppp (quieter sub-tones) to fffff (really, really loud). During the final sections of the piece, the composer asks for the sound to become increasingly tired, even distorted. If the sound did break at any point before this, it was more due to exhaustion and the costume (tightly wrapped cling-wrap). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: I am interested in how your body in the performance can be conceived as porous to the music and take on certain aspects of your instruments. Do you have any thoughts on this?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: Playing each of the various clarinets gives one an incredibly different physical feeling, this affects my performance greatly in that I have to 'behave' differently in order to get the instruments to do what I want them to do. Any kind of physical gesture will affect the sound and sometimes, hopefully often, this can be used to advantage the performance, give it a certain edge. In that way 'Listen...' is a good show of this aspect of instrumental playing, in that each piece has a starkly different physical character, and I use my body in correspondingly different ways. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The sound of the instrument (conceptually, not actually) begins in the body, we think of breathing to the stomach, as this expands the lowest regions of the lungs. When this happens, the reflex diaphragm muscle pushes the air out, so in a way we're constantly playing against, but with this muscle. The air blown into the clarinet creates a vacuum on one side of the cane reed, one that it attempts to fill by moving towards it, resulting in the reed continuously vibrating as long as there is air moving past it. Therefore, (technical aspects aside) the body is a vehicle of breath, indirectly of the sound of the clarinet. The body itself becomes 'audible' through the megaphone of the clarinet. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Listening to you play in Listen..., I was asking myself what constitutes music? What are your personal thoughts on what constitutes music?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: In my opinion, music is both organised and non-organised sound. Therefore one could say music is as much a method or psychology of listening, as a type of sound or a type of sonic result. I find the attitude of audience members purporting to know what music 'is' or 'should be', as much as I don't walk around saying what I think architecture 'should be' or what performance art 'is'. The music performed during 'Listen...' was therefore a lot more 'musical' (behaving in a way most people would expect music to behave: exhibiting melody, harmony, rhythm, structure etc.) say, than perhaps what one might hear at a noise event, or some of the more ground-breaking works of the twentieth century (Poeme Symphonique by György Ligeti comes to mind). There are many kinds of music I enjoy listening to on a regular basis: a forest, a construction site, a beach, people. All of which became part of the soundscape in 'Listen...'). This is sound, some might say, but the method of listening can make it music: recognising relationships between sounds, identifying pauses in the sound as structural boundaries, knitting together partial sentences uttered by passers-by as a kind of libretto for an urban opera... the list goes on. There's a reason why people should be quiet while listening to music: to afford other listeners the chance to undergo this process undisturbed.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RLC: Who are the composers you admire or who influence you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RH: There are great number of composers I admire in the United Kingdom: Roger Redgate, Christopher Fox, Liza Lim, Michael Finnissy, Harrison Birtwistle. Greater Europe: Enno Poppe, Michael Jarrell, Pierre Boulez, Georg Friedrich Haas, Bernhard Gander, Mauricio Kagel. Oceania: John Rodgers, James Gardner, Michael Norris, Robert Dahm North America: Michael Gordon, Elliot Carter, Aaron Cassidy, John Adams. To name a few...! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Richard is currently studying for a PhD at RMIT in Melbourne, Australia while living with his partner in Switzerland. He holds a Soloist Diploma (High Distinction) from the University of Arts Berne and a Bachelor of Music (Advanced Performance) from Griffith University, Australia. http://web.me.com/richardehaynes</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-21579287787976250492009-05-12T13:52:00.005+01:002010-09-02T10:21:53.095+01:00Small Talk 05 - Void Story by Alex Eisenberg<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExfzDYOjE0k6RIAEUonMgIHt-gwkFdrkJKwmAfAwL8meKkyWhVo-e12U0CTmMIIjZ3YLYHlMfrvUBPTPp0dwSddnbOgnNeLae5jGkOWEHO9YGDW6f3gdgaZDrwCzpUy_3TaCv6OS2uws/s1600-h/Void+Story.jpg"></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Void Story by Forced Entertainment</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia">S<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">oho Theatre</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">24</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> April 2009</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">7.32pm – 7.37pm</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Unreserved Seating: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Fourth Row – Seat 7/8/9 - (A)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Fourth Row – Seat 8/9/10 - (P) </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On Stage – Usher (U)</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">You can read an introduction to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">Small Talk</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;"> </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk_06.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">______________________________________</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">7.32pm</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Hello…How are you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Are you supposed to sit here?…no…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Sorry?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Are you sitting with him?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: No…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Oh okay…Sorry I thought you were with him.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh…I thought you were together!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Oh no…[ALL LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: No…I’m on my own actually. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Oh okay…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I’m a bit puffed out!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Yeah I just ran here as well. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Okay…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So what do you reckon it's going to be like?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Probably quite slow…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Why do you say that?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Cos they often…they can do that sometimes…be very slow…Have you seen stuff before?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah I have. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: But you know…I like it so… </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: You like slow?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I don’t mind…well…I kind of like a bit of both…the text is often good so…they can get away with it.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: So you’ve seen quite a lot of their work before have you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I’ve been seeing them for a long time…yeah…yeah…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Got any favourites? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: ‘Dirty Work’…that’s quite a long time ago. ‘Speak Bitterness’…that’s a while back umm…I like their earlier stuff better actually. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Okay…so you’ve been a long time follower and it's 25 years in the making. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: But I mean…I saw some of that on video…yeah…’Dirty Work’ I saw live…yeah…I did a workshop thing…like a residency with them in ninety-nine…ten years ago now…which was good but…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[LOUD]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 36.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">U: Hi guys, welcome to Soho Theatre! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 36.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If I could just ask you all just to scooch along just a tiny tiny bit…In front of all of you is a number on the back of the chairs in front of you…if you all look at a number and all sit behind one that would be perfect. Because then we can get 14 people to every row…cos we’re completely sold out. Thanks a lot!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 36.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: That was funny! …It is quite squashed in here isn’t it?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I think they always have to do this…and they do this speech…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: They’re used to it…she seemed quite practiced.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh right…we’re getting into seat 9 and 10 here. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: That’s right [LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It's amazing how much room there is when we all…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Yeah…you see everyone wants to give themselves a bit more personal space.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Well also these seats, you know they’re quite…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Rigid?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Rigid…yeah [ALL LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: So have you been to anything else in Spill?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: No I haven’t…I haven’t had a chance…I’m just going to see this and the other one tonight and that’s it…that’s all I’ve been able to…I would have liked to have seen some of the stuff last week but…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh you are seeing the show after? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Yeah. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: That’s good. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: So…are you involved in the arts at all?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Not really any more no…I look after my son now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh wow! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Yeah!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: How old is he?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: He’s two.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Lovely…that’s your full time work is it?!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I used to do a bit…just marketing stuff…but I have to look after him now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: But you didn’t want to bring him along tonight though?!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I don’t think I could handle it!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Really! Is he a bit of a…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Well he’s in bed now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: He’s normally in bed about seven, seven-thirty. It's how it is with that age. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It would be good to go to bed at seven-thirty…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: I go to bed about nine-thirty…[LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh really! You’re an early sleeper? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Well I have to because he gets up at half six…otherwise I…I like my sleep so…you know… </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: That’s being a mum, isn’t it? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: It's like…going to bed at eleven feels like a late night. Like, I watch a movie and I’m like…wooo ‘late night’. [LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Gone are the days of drunken craziness!…Well I still do that occasionally but…you know…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Well I suppose you sort of succumb to the schedule of your child…<br />P: Yeah…they take over…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…It's interesting that…I’m not in that sort of schedule I’ll be honest with you! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: It's funny…it does take over…I wasn’t before and now… you’re like…wow it's a very different thing! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I’ve been wondering what it's like to sit up there on those stools. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P: Probably not<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">good. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It seems to be going quiet now… </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">7.37pm</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">VOID STORY</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">22.21pm</span></b></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><br /></b></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:42px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; font-size:14px;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExfzDYOjE0k6RIAEUonMgIHt-gwkFdrkJKwmAfAwL8meKkyWhVo-e12U0CTmMIIjZ3YLYHlMfrvUBPTPp0dwSddnbOgnNeLae5jGkOWEHO9YGDW6f3gdgaZDrwCzpUy_3TaCv6OS2uws/s1600-h/Void+Story.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExfzDYOjE0k6RIAEUonMgIHt-gwkFdrkJKwmAfAwL8meKkyWhVo-e12U0CTmMIIjZ3YLYHlMfrvUBPTPp0dwSddnbOgnNeLae5jGkOWEHO9YGDW6f3gdgaZDrwCzpUy_3TaCv6OS2uws/s400/Void+Story.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334920586153025218" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px; " /></a><br /></span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); line-height: 19px; font-family:Trebuchet;font-size:16px;"></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">To find out about Alex's Small Talk click here:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk_06.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk by Alex Eisenberg</span></a></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; font-family:Trebuchet;font-size:12px;"></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Below are links to the other conversations that I have had:</span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk-01-inferno.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk 01 - Inferno</span></a></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk-02-that-night-follows-day.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk 02 - That Night Follows Day</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk-03-purgatorio.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "></a></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk-03-purgatorio.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk 03 - Purgatorio</span></a></span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk-04-saving-world-by-alex.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk 04 - Saving the World</span></a></span></p></span><p></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:14px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival. </span></span></span></p><p></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-51916360855347325722009-05-12T11:11:00.007+01:002009-06-05T12:32:50.830+01:00(w)hole story by Eleanor Hadley Kershaw<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObicInhVzqjPdZkoB87EzUoDXeji0DozjmZsDTW-heuMkhZb6fPscAWjKmHhQLl4o7sVd-sAsFWjpItFGdT22CxOT-CzMQmnUj-11IW9r2Zk8Rs2l_MgBuDCpCH2_TuxdpSUNcpJ8ggI/s1600-h/Void+260+x+400.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObicInhVzqjPdZkoB87EzUoDXeji0DozjmZsDTW-heuMkhZb6fPscAWjKmHhQLl4o7sVd-sAsFWjpItFGdT22CxOT-CzMQmnUj-11IW9r2Zk8Rs2l_MgBuDCpCH2_TuxdpSUNcpJ8ggI/s400/Void+260+x+400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334880223094112194" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:10px;"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=12"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Void Story</span></a></span></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:14px;"></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 10px/normal Georgia; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Soho Theatre</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 10px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">20-25 April 2009</span></span></p><p></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The last few audience members are squeezed onto the benches of Soho Theatre studio. It is warm and stuffy, but a buzz of anticipation permeates the thick air above the steeply raked auditorium. A Forced Entertainment performance is about to start: I am expecting that once the steward has ripped my ticket and I have chosen my place and I have sat down and I have taken off my coat and placed my bag under the seat, once the houselights have (maybe) gone down (or at least dimmed a little bit) and once the performers are on stage and the audience quietens… I am expecting that theatrical conventions will be challenged, form will be played with, and that this performance will stimulate some thoughts about my – our – relationship to what’s going on down there below. And maybe more.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The rules of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Void Story</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> are clear soon after the performers have entered and taken their seats. As </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/telling-telling-of-tale-by-mary.html"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; color:#0000ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson describes</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, the four of them are tools, props, components in the telling of this story. They perform the function of sound: the voices of the protagonists, Kim and Jackson, are spoken into microphones by two performers at individual desks on one side of the stage, a lamp and a script next to each of their mics. Effects are created live or triggered from a soundboard on the long desk behind which the other two sit, on the opposite side of the stage. They speak the voices of subsidiary characters into more microphones, adjusting settings on two Mac laptops. A screen fills the gap behind the two pairs, onto which high contrast monochrome collages are projected; rough cut-and-paste snapshots of a desolate and threatening landscape through which a man and woman journey – the image version of Jackson and Kim – posed photos of two new faces, not the performers speaking in front of us. It’s all laid out for us to see, production methods stripped bare, each dislocated ingredient needing our imagination, our effort, our presence, to come together into a whole. The performance is two dimensional and we are the third dimension.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It will continue like this. A string of terrible events are inflicted on Kim and Jackson by the narrative, but they carry on across this harsh landscape, with no grand purpose and no final destination. They receive a visitor, who shoots Kim in the stomach. They receive intrusive phonecalls. They are stung by bees, they swim through shit, they climb over a tower of decomposing waste. They are chased by an open-jawed bear and a pack of angry dogs. We carry on filling in the grim void, just as Jackson, eyes closed, led by Kim, can still imagine the human entrails scattered along their path, at which Kim recoils.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Despite the horrible content of the narrative, this framing of catastrophe seems safe – everything is settled from early on – the concept is there, so we just need to apply our imaginative glue and join Kim and Jackson for ‘a rollercoaster ride through the decimated remains of contemporary culture’, as Tim Etchells’ programme note suggests. The violence and misfortunes that the characters suffer bring to mind a horror or disaster film, their ability to brush themselves off and continue after deadly injuries, a cartoon. No-one will really get hurt here, the good guys will survive till the end - it’s all just a bit of light entertainment, right? It’s not real.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But the general effect is far from calming. The sound is almost unbearably loud: at times I feel like I am being pinned to the back of my seat by the force of it. In imagining all these nasty events, and in battling against the volume of noise, and in the heat of the space, this experience is often uncomfortably challenging. It doesn’t allow the quick fix spectacular escapism on offer in Armageddon or The Day After Tomorrow. Maybe it comes closer to the gritty warning of Children of Men, or Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But it is still safe, it is darkly comic. It is apparent that this formula will not change and the narrative will reach no climax… rather we will continue uneasily trawling along a desperate grey plateau with its protagonists. After a while they encounter a sinister child on a bleak estate and she asks for some help with her balloon, it is stuck in a nearby tree. No-one else can help as they sleep during the day and work at night: “Our schedules don’t overlap much.” Kim and Jackson deliberate over whether – </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">There is whispering in the row behind me.</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A young woman is slumped on the shoulder of the woman next to her, eyes shut, the people around are fanning her face. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">She has probably fainted. Turn back to the stage </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia">– Jackson is high up in the tree, “Jackson, be careful”. The balloon is shot by a – </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">but the whispering gets louder,</span></b><span style="font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">a man stands by the young woman. “Can you hear me? I’m a first aid officer. Can you hear me?” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To the panicked woman at the girl’s side: “Was she with anyone?” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“I’m her mother.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her name is repeated several times. “I’m the first aid officer, can you hear me? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">…Has she eaten anything today?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Glance back at the screen for a second </span><span style="font: 10.0px Georgia">– Jackson and the sinister girl and Kim are on the move, they are – </span>then back up to the woman. <span style="font: 16.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Someone comes down from the back bench onto the stage,</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">it is Tim Etchells.</span><span style="font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The performers’ voices halt, the houselights are brought up. “I’m very sorry, but we’re going to have to stop the show. There’s a medical problem.” He looks up at the young woman.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Everyone turns and looks.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A steward: “Is there anyone with any medical experience here? Is there a doctor in the house tonight?” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">No response. Someone says, “She needs to be put in the recovery position.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Everyone continues to look at the young woman and her mother in the middle of the seating bank. Her skin is grey. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first aid officer calls an ambulance: “yes, she’s breathing but she’s not conscious.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We stare. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">No-one does anything.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This moment lasts a long time. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We stare.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A steward asks us to all to take a break outside the studio. We slowly filter out, dazed. We wait. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span style="font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I think:</span> </span>So, is <i>Void Story</i> a disaster performance? It has presented us with a post-apocalyptic landscape, but the usual constraints of realism don’t apply. With a dream-like logic the protagonists have reacted to each crisis without ever considering the bigger picture (without the ‘sop of psychology’ as Tim Etchells writes): just like this show’s detailed attention to each individual component, and its intentional neglect of a complete, finished end product. We have been presented with a flat pack performance.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We’re thanked for our patience, and told the show will continue. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We wait. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span style="font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I think:</span> </span>The performance has so far been deliberately out of sync with itself. Aside from the incongruities between aural and visual representation, and the strangely narrow outlook of the protagonists, the images have had warped perspectives within themselves because they are haphazardly thrown together from the elements of other compositions. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We’re told that the paramedics have arrived, that the performance will be started as soon as possible. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We wait. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span style="font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I think</span>: </span>The performers’ style has been brilliantly underplayed and deadpan, always ensuring we’ve been aware that they are “just acting”, just reading from the script, just doing their job. They have been playing at being these characters, reminiscent of children doing the voices of their toys, or parents reading out picturebook speech bubbles to pacify at bedtime.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We are told that the young woman is looking a lot better now that she has received some medical attention, and that the show will be restarting soon. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We filter back into the studio, staring at the ominous empty space where the girl and her mother were. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tim Etchells thanks us all for waiting, and tells us that the young woman is fine now and has been taken home. They’re going to rewind a bit:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">– “Help me!” cries the sinister girl on the bleak estate. “Please help me!”, words spoken into a microphone that stretches Terry O’Connor’s voice into a high-pitched squeal. Jackson says, “This is one of those dilemmas that really tests one’s strength of character.” The audience laughs. “Do you run or do you help?” More laughter. “I’d say run…”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The performance continues through to the abrupt unconcluded end that sees Kim and Jackson in a final moment of inaction. But that scary intermission has changed the nature of the experience. Our expectations are blasted and nothing feels quite so safe anymore, now that we’ve been reminded that anything is possible, that unexpected eventualities can occur anytime, anywhere. And also it feels doubly safe, because nothing else unplanned will happen now, the chances of two emergencies in one show are very slim. Something shocking and demanding and real intruded into the set rules of representation, and we didn’t know how to respond. The light responsibility of creating a piece of theatre together immediately switched to the shared weighty onus of how to handle this unforeseen occurrence. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The spectacle of this episode was defined by our inaction – by our handling of it as something to be observed rather than acted upon – just as the final image of the performance shows Kim and Jackson giving up on reacting and trying out just doing nothing. Whilst we knew clearly how to play the game that the show proposed, this situation was uncertain, unguided, unknown. There were some attempts towards protocol, but it was clear to all that the possible directions were out of our remit, we couldn’t control them, and so we did nothing. We were helpless and redundant. Having re-entered, there is now a new definition of ‘uneasy’ attached to this space, and the loudness and disjunction of the performance have become comforting solid certainties. We watch the rest of the show, happy to be able to achieve something together, something that elegantly falls within the realms of our comfort zone, stretching us only as far as we choose to go. It’s in our hands again now.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span><div><!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor Hadley Kershaw is a writer focusing on performance and live art, currently based between Brussels, London and Bristol. </span><a href="mailto:ehadleykershaw@googlemail.com"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ehadleykershaw@googlemail.com</span></a></span><!--EndFragment--> </div>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-45374161297379579542009-05-11T18:30:00.007+01:002009-05-18T13:47:50.915+01:00Fetishized Encounters with a Clarinettist: Rachel Lois Clapham<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dxb6MijUZesWzWtN12bWh_Ixb7g7qY6MrM2-113ulGp7XiGPxEIpQ5oz2tYhD_Oq_HtbxR9Fph8vBo6AuW2qVF6MYlxFMlinlXr0_E-axAYVxP-dYpKVDv5FJvgNh-9cUU2aQVrk_Xg/s1600-h/Haynes+260+x+400.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dxb6MijUZesWzWtN12bWh_Ixb7g7qY6MrM2-113ulGp7XiGPxEIpQ5oz2tYhD_Oq_HtbxR9Fph8vBo6AuW2qVF6MYlxFMlinlXr0_E-axAYVxP-dYpKVDv5FJvgNh-9cUU2aQVrk_Xg/s400/Haynes+260+x+400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334623585464373458" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=17"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Listen, My Secret Fetish</span></a></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Richard Haynes</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Shunt Vaults</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span style="font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Listen, My Secret Fetish is a hybrid live art club act cum queer concert recital that explores contemporary music and sexual fetish in four distinct parts.<br /></span> <span style="font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 1. David Young’s Breath Control for clarinet, water sports, and 44-gallon drum. Richard enters the first of four platforms in a schoolboy uniform, including small shorts with the front unzipped. He proceeds to play the clarinet in close variations on a single note using a circular breathing technique; replenishing breath by breathing in through the nose but continuing to sound the note by blowing through the mouth using the air stored in the cheeks. Occasionally he dips the nose of the instrument into a 44 gallon water tank. Still playing, he stands in a bucket and unceremoniously wets himself, urine trickling down his legs, a dark patch slowly growing over the shorts. The fetish seems to be one of desire, boyhood and urination. A paradoxical sexual fantasy of childhood accidental pant-wetting deftly enabled mid recital by Richard’s prowess as an adult performer.</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 2. Richard Barrett’s Interference for contrabass clarinetist. This sees Richard don an elaborate headdress and stand behind a perspex screen revealing his lower half, which is naked save for a cock ring. The voice performance in Interference ranges from high falsetto squeaks to extreme bass grunts, finished with contrabass clarinet flourishes. The presence of a cock ring and stage waterproofing could be a worrying prelude to more watersports but no urinating ensues. The fetish is one of voyeurism and the transgendered body or voice; the male genitals contrasting with the typically feminine range of high notes Richard produces.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 3. For Chris Dench’s The Sadness of Detail for clarinet and operating table Richard emerges with a wreath on his head, wearing small underpants and a few strategically placed leaves. His body is wrapped tightly in cling-film. His movements on the table resemble an imp or lusty Pan-like character. The performance is virtuosic, and the clarinet sound is often distorted at the end of the phrasing due to the constriction of Richard’s breathing. The fetish is of purity, the naturalness of youth and innocence set against oncoming acts of bondage and asphyxiation.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 4. David Lang's composition Press Release for leather and bass clarinet is more identifiably jazz-like and the playing involves a lot of tongue slapping and vigorous sounding of the bass clarinet’s keys instead of the musical notes they play. Whilst playing, Richard enacts a queer Bob the Builder fetish in tiny blue shorts, boots and yellow hard hat, climbing arse first up a wooden ladder.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In-between these parts, the lights are lowered and Richard’s recorded voice, mixed with the sounds of wind blowing and wood cutting, reveal the intimate pleasures of playing music. ‘It feels like desperation - when the body is at its limits, it feels like the rush of caffeine, it feels like throbbing, or being erect.’ These interludes are moments of pillow talk; of sexual confessions shared between lovers in between climactic performances. In them, my mind wonders to Richard backstage, hastily shedding the previous costume - and fetish - and preparing for the next performance. I find I want to see him in these private, half dressed moments and fear I am developing my own voyeuristic fascination, or fetish, for him as a performer.<br /><br />Incomprehensibility definitely plays a part in Listen..., which stands out as bizarre and different even in the context of the experimental work at SPILL. This difference is one of context and audience for his avant-garde work, of which Richards says, "Musically I have a great interest in contemporary music, but I realise most people don't. Every man and his dog aren't going to come and hear me do a recital of left-of-centre music. I want to rouse concert goers.” But incomprehensibility is also critically important, “it's no surprise that the music [in Listen...] should be at times incomprehensible as the myriad manifestations of fetish-influenced sexual practice are often just as baffling”.</span></span> </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The music in Listen... is at the very edges of understanding. There are no previous styles or traditions being ‘riffed’ with, no travesty being made. It is music of the 21</span></span><span style="font: 12.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">st</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> century; without history, its own sealed and virtuosic fetish. Each piece is rhythmically irrational, it sounds like improvisation or extreme loose-association but is in fact a tightly crafted composition. Three of the compositions already existed. But one came out of a unique performer/composer collaboration in which Richard gave David Young the basic ‘instrumentation’ or four part score of clarinet, urine, 44-gallon drum and amplification, and David went away and composed Breath Control. The collaboration and the resulting performed composition gives a glimpse into the perverse rigors of the contemporary music world. Richard’s four part instructional score of ‘clarinet, urine, 44-gallon drum and amplification’ remains a tantalising call to others to develop their own fetishized encounters with urine and clarinettists.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Listen… is also broaching relatively unexplored ground in terms of musical performance related fetish: both the attributing of inanimate objects with mystical qualities, and the sexualizing of objects or body parts not traditionally seen as sexual.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The clarinet itself is endowed with both transcendental and sexual qualities. In The Sadness of Detail the instrument is involved in a sexual act, it becomes the body of a lover being manipulated by Richard’s practised hands; a body made to scream in a display of dexterous and asphyxiating sexual performance. The bass clarinet in Press Release plays into a camp porn aesthetic; nubile construction worker in small shorts, hard hat and worker boots, wielding large, manly tool. The otherwise inert instrument becomes a phallic appendage whose power and implied use is sexually potent.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Fetish also seeps across the different physical forms in Listen... with breath enacting a subtle transfer of erotics. Breath sounds the body of the instrument and is then sexualised on its return into Richard’s body-in-performance. Breath becomes the vehicle through which Richard’s body is highlighted as porous, and the medium with which he practices the sexualised transgression of instrumental, bodily and musical limits. His circular breathing troubles his body’s natural flow by simultaneously breathing in and out, producing and consuming breath at the same time. The regularity of things in and out of the body is further unsettled by simultaneously urinating; performing on demand (and on stage) what is normally a natural, private evacuation. The flow of oxygen into the body – or rather the lack of it – is further fetishized by the sexual practice of asphyxia.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Calibri"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br />After the performance finishes I wander, feeling baffled but (a)roused, into the toilets. The Eau de Shunt pervades the multi-sex set-up; cubicles big enough for two, graffitti’d walls, dubious puddles on the floor emitting a strong stench of wee. Richard is at the central washbasin, washing his hands, presumably having cleaned himself of his urine. I introduce myself. As we shake hands, he looks into my eyes and crushes my fingers in a vice-like grip. His precious, highly trained musician’s hands with their long, smooth fingers know the infinitesimal subtleties of pressure. This is a truly talented man who can sound a body in a myriad of ways. Stood there, in urine, in Richard’s experienced and dexterous hands, I realise my own secret fetish is complete. The score for Listen, My Secret Fetish is performed once more.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 15.0px Calibri; min-height: 18.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rachel Lois Clapham is Co-Director of Open Dialogues</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-7021833161605820632009-05-08T13:09:00.011+01:002010-09-02T10:22:08.972+01:00Becoming a child or a lamb? By Alex Eisenberg<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJiUttdsHnlAhJcoSikdOQUpVhf-mlqqXraGr-zKRoZsbqSAbPH4zNYSCzSKvNoMbHDwHh79oJWrZgjJy79ZYuO4-fsInulDhKK_XJnL2fyTOASIaATI7YV65_g1ewvBKTg_R7-tO9nc/s1600-h/Sam+Sweeting.jpg"></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><b><br /></b></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJiUttdsHnlAhJcoSikdOQUpVhf-mlqqXraGr-zKRoZsbqSAbPH4zNYSCzSKvNoMbHDwHh79oJWrZgjJy79ZYuO4-fsInulDhKK_XJnL2fyTOASIaATI7YV65_g1ewvBKTg_R7-tO9nc/s400/Sam+Sweeting.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334200354695294242" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></span><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">La Nourrice (come drink from me my darling)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">by Samantha Sweeting<br />Part of </span></span><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=21"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Visions of Excess </span></span></a></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Shunt Vaults</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">12 April 2009</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;font-size:9px;">Photo: Richard Andersen</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Exploring Shunt Vaults during </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Visions of Excess,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> I round a corner where there is this small arch - not enough room to stand up in. It makes you crouch and so you get smaller (or shrink). It feels like a safe place, antithetical to the expanse of the rest of the vaults, a haven or a womb. Outside the arch is a video showing a woman bent over on all fours with her breasts out whilst a small lamb attempts to suckle on them. There is an obvious moment of confusion but also intrigue – how does the lamb know to suckle on this woman’s nipples? Is it real (breast) milk? Is there any milk at all or is this just some form of stimulation for the woman? But most of all, I wonder how it feels, not only for the woman but also for the lamb. And already, I know I want to find out – how does this feel? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Inside the arch is Samantha Sweeting, wearing a virginal white dress (‘her performance gear’). It’s almost a nightdress, but also a farm girls’ dress (she is ready for action). The setting of the brick arch begins to evoke a sense of fantasy; it is dreamy, dimly lit and calm. Samantha is sitting on a milking stool, smiling and gentle. There is raw sheep’s wool on the floor, perhaps there was also a spinning wheel in the corner? I can’t be sure…as I was there less to observe or watch the ‘scene’ but rather to place myself firmly within it, to become part of it and, by default, to become the work (and the lamb), with Samantha. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:10px;">My mother breastfed me for a relatively long time. I can remember breastfeeding. I can remember suckling on my mother’s nipple. I can remember this as comfort. I can remember this as warmth. I can remember this care. I can remember this love.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Thanks Mum.</span> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And now, 25 years old, a gay man, I sit on the floor, getting ready to suckle (again). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">BUT</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to sit?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to suckle?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to be in this space?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There is not much conversation. Samantha asks me to make myself comfortable but I already am – the wool is soft and her knee provides a gentle rest for my head. She strokes my hair. She is wearing some sort of mechanical breastfeeding system (I think it’s called a nursing system) though I barley notice what is in fact this prosthetic extension to her chest, since a sense of regression is already present. She reveals one breast and, of course, even though I thought I didn’t, I know what to do:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The first moment I notice that there is no sign of milk. (I am not sure how much to expect). The man-made mechanics of the nursing system rupture the moment as she has to adjust the flow rate of the milk. Breastfeeding is a delicate business and the conditions have to be right. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Then, this memory creeps in about how it tasted back then</span> - <span style="font: 10.0px Cambria">l<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">ike orange juice or chocolate milk or whatever flavour you want it to be?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This milk is apparently almond flavour – only the faintest hint though – this milky almond flavour. Then, this quick idea about the size of her nipple and the subsequent comparison to my mother’s nipple.</span> <span style="font: 10.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">There is a difference – I think?</span></span> P<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">erhaps it has something to do with my grown mouth but there is the idea, at least, of a different size.</span> <span style="font: 10.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">And in some small way I am yearning for that original size.</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Through this active and intimate engagement with Samantha’s body and particularly her nipple, I am I am finding myself almost unavoidably going back to what I know, to what I knew – it seems almost innate. The act itself sets the stakes high by being so intimate, by making a physical connection and thereby inducing an undeniable presence in the audience of one – in this case me. The suckling goes on for a while, but I end too early. I end before I allow myself to regress too deep into memories of childhood, memories of nipples and all that that entails. The process of becoming a child (or a lamb) only lasts for as long as I allow it to - for as long as I suckle. I am in control here. I leave the arch and emerge. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There is a small break before the next person goes in. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Stood there, outside the arch, the act of suckling appears to me to be evocative, generous and beautiful, however as I leave its disappearance yields a further journey, since it is in the comparison between the memory of being a child and being present during the suckling event itself, that </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">La Nourrice...</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> operates. This comparison can only happen afterwards, as there is little room to process whilst suckling. So, walking away from the arch, I compare the potentially erotic act of suckling on a women’s nipple with a situation that evokes the purity and innocence of childhood - breastfeeding. I compare the innocence of the lamb with the idea of bestiality and amidst all of this I find Oedipal echoes unsettling me, as I compare me now, to me then and all in relation to a mother figure/Samantha. I ask again, how does it feel?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As I look back to see the next person going into the arch, the work continues to expose itself and in the process it exposes me. Only now does </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">La Nourrice...</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> begin to raise its ethics. I am left with the burden of having placed myself in this situation in the first place, of having made the decision to play, to take part in this ‘out of the ordinary’ act. How does it feel? Now, rather than some sort of fantasy journey motivated by curiosity, into childhood or into my relationship with my mother, the work evokes feelings of embarrassment, trauma even. A small but complex interplay is present between my complicity in the act of suckling and the politics of engagement with this work. I find myself asking questions about the objectification of women, the notion of motherhood and my own relationship to all of this. This is lingering work, which doesn’t and cannot ever entirely satisfy. I continue to ask myself - how does it feel? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Thanks Sam…</span></p></span><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cambria"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-16689362538179745812009-05-01T19:11:00.005+01:002009-05-06T14:09:51.539+01:00Mind The Gap - Robin Deacon’s Prototypes by Rachel Lois Clapham<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJBosFdHVMJT8QnSTcRhOaHtCsnGFzUtva-rFtZr1OJfwnwVxy2p135ETYYD27Q7YXfk0NvlGUUlWP_7id58o3ce9Cuj4n80TO-kHshA-Mp5AFZJs9kvG56NzvefwQwhRXqG7g-Wd5a0/s1600-h/123332719640.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJBosFdHVMJT8QnSTcRhOaHtCsnGFzUtva-rFtZr1OJfwnwVxy2p135ETYYD27Q7YXfk0NvlGUUlWP_7id58o3ce9Cuj4n80TO-kHshA-Mp5AFZJs9kvG56NzvefwQwhRXqG7g-Wd5a0/s400/123332719640.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332697335231777106" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=10"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Prototypes</span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Soho Theatre</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">16-18 April 2009</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robert Deacon: Good evening ladies and gentleman. For this evening’s performance of Prototypes, I have been commissioned by my son.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robin Deacon: That’s me</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robert Deacon: To play the part of ….</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robin Deacon: [whispering audibly in Robert’s ear] third person omniscient narrator.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robert Deacon: Third person omniscient narrator.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[Cue Robert on the Xylophone]</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And so Robin and his dad, Robert, open the performance of Prototypes with a short turn on the xylophone and an air of formal ceremony.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Prototypes is a show that uses a working model railway as stage for a subtle play on autobiography, documentation and the passing of time. The model in question is a makeshift MDF section of British Rail track that is visible from the upper window in the former home of Robin’s Aunty Monica, in 5 Martin Court, Southall. This window was the one in which Robin stood as a child in his school holidays. Where he watched the Class 253 trains in intercity livery pass by. It is where he thinks he may have developed a love of railways and trains – even model ones - and where the fascinations with timetables started.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robin re-enacts that childhood scene with his model - which includes a hastily blacked-up plastic figurine (representing Robin), stood in front of the cut-out cardboard window of 5 Martin Court watching the model trains. Throughout the performance, he also presents video footage from the original view upon which the prototype is based; we see First Great Western train services rumble past the window of 5 Martin Court, the actual flat from which his Aunty Monica has long since gone. When the trains are gone, the video records the empty, grey and wet stretch of Southall.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robin wears a pair of dark running shorts and white T-shirt with the word OPERATOR on the back. As ‘operator’ he spends the first part of Prototypes sitting at a makeshift audio-visual desk at the back of the stage, hidden behind equipment, happily engrossed in twiddling various knobs and widgets relating to the model trains and the on screen video footage. At other times, he runs around the railway’s trestle tables an awkward, high legged canter, frantically assembling and disassembling the trains. Robin’s operational role on stage troubles the notion of utility versus its excess: performance. It poses the question, is it possible to merely operate or facilitate without performing? So too Robin’s operator ‘costume’ is functional, a workers uniform or a non-costume, but on stage this very functionality goes beyond appearance, it is seen to appear as performance. These paradoxical acts of erasure provide a glimpse into just how Prototypes - and in general how performance, as opposed to theatre - is complexly embroiled in function and reality. And although it is quite possible that Robin’s awkward run could be nothing to do with ‘performance’ at all, and more to do with Robin’s level of physical fitness, I suspect some camping is going on here too.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In contrast to all this (non)performance and train related chaos is Robert who, as third person omniscient narrator- or first person impersonator as he sometimes referred to by Robin- speaks the story of Prototypes with a wry, reserved demeanour that bears an uncanny resemblance to Robins’ own understated, satirical persona.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The story Robert tells is one of prototypes themselves - of equivalence, scale, representation and archetypal base form. These things are looked upon through the lens of the model railway, its language, politics and aesthetics. We are taken into the world of the model railway convention, where modellers – the vast majority of whom are white, British, retired enthusiasts - showcase in-depth miniature scenes. The models are strange amalgams; soil collected from the original geographic location, upon which mini lighthouses, railway sheds or outhouses are brought together to create an approximation, a picture postcard of quintessential Englishness. They are fictional but equivalent representations of a certain place and time. Specific re-enactments of an idealised version of the English countryside circa 1950’s; a sparsely populated (with white people) land of green and plenty. The prototype that emerges from all these models is troublingly utopian. Prototypes delves into these miniature aesthetics; a world in which 0.5 mm makes a difference, where aged, conservative model makers attempt (unwittingly or otherwise) to simulate a purity of experience, youth and Englishness, and scale things down in an attempt to exercise control over an increasingly uncertain world. Prototypes articulates railway models and their makers as unable to be apolitical, and their endeavours politically loaded. Megalomania and outmoded modernist tendencies concealed in the form of a harmless British past time.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Robin’s attempt to place himself (as mixed race, as young man, as artist) in this world - both in the fantasy English landscape of the models, and the world of the typical model railway convention goer – in his re-enactment inevitably fail. But it is the attempt or the acting out of the re-enactment that is critical. It is both political statement and recompense then, that Robin’s own model of Southall is very British in an everyday, post industrial way. His is a very different sort of English prototype: one that embodies the fact that quite often ‘nothing happens’, both in life and on railways, one that takes account of local immigration, (Robin’s) mixed British heritage as well as the wet grey reality of Southall.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A similar aesthetics of failure is also being re-enacted in Robin’s attempt, mid way through the performance, to simulate the timetabled operations of the 8.59 Network South East service running through Southall on 17 April 1990. It was an impersonation that was doomed from the start. The vigorous piston movements of his arms, his precise buffering gestures and grinding noises aptly demonstrated the infidelity of representation and the inbuilt failure of re-enactment; it will never copy exactly. But Robin’s actions show how re-enactment, in its enthusiastic and imprecise nature, goes beyond off the shelf or pre-fabricated representations or presets - replica trains, crafted figurines, tiny signal boxes - to create something that is more holistic, sympathetic and perhaps more akin to the original event, or prototype.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This gap between reality and re-enactment is a recurring motif in Prototypes. At one point, Robin starts the miniature train on its journey past the model no. 5 Martin Court. By the time the train rattles precariously past the prototype window, Robin has (just about) managed to clamber back over the set to stand centre stage in front of the video screen, upon which is a magnified live stream of Robin’s on stage Southall prototype. In that carefully choreographed (and nearly missed) moment we watch Robin, his back to us, watching his prototyped plastic self on screen watch the model train. It is a heady mix. One in which Robin views himself through the video projection of his own prototyped past. And we see the dialectical tension between being and self-identification played out through the different forms – body, prototype, video and documentary. First person impersonator, Robert, acts as mediator; he speaks Robin’s scripted words as his own. He blackens his (white) face and dons an acrylic afro wig. It is Robert as narrator through which identity is performed as dislocated, fragmented and performative in Prototypes, in short re-enacted, not authentic, essential and whole.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 10.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rachel Lois Clapham is Co-Director of Open Dialogues.</span></span></p> </div>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-83575413020897220812009-05-01T10:39:00.002+01:002009-05-01T10:43:32.829+01:00Not Waiting by Mary Paterson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY4ZmbJKYcOSzzeaNUt8ZsxGiGjeTsnmjyRIiP4TTXFAgQDyoN-VTXoJw2_3nhXpU2CoNFWxptraDpxqbFlVba3INViP8DAU1A1Duk_MPUfnWgyXveRKc_O0EKWqWwYqaVz98vuw2Rxo/s1600-h/'+by+Pacitti+Ghelani+%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY4ZmbJKYcOSzzeaNUt8ZsxGiGjeTsnmjyRIiP4TTXFAgQDyoN-VTXoJw2_3nhXpU2CoNFWxptraDpxqbFlVba3INViP8DAU1A1Duk_MPUfnWgyXveRKc_O0EKWqWwYqaVz98vuw2Rxo/s400/'+by+Pacitti+Ghelani+%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330788650835681522" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=13"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Intermission</span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Soho Theatre</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">22-24 April 2009</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Intermission. The middle. The in-between. The time when you have a drink in the bar, or the performer in Pacitti Company’s </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Intermission </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">drinks beer in the middle of the stage. Thinking time, when something has ended and before something else has begun. Intermission. When the world is still going on around you.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At the start of Pacitti Company’s show, Sheila Ghelani – the only performer onstage throughout – unveils nine cloaked figures. Like furniture stored under dustsheets, these figures have been waiting quietly, while the audience fills the auditorium. Ghelani reveals them to be nine microphones, each bearing a label: ‘Fiction’, ‘Glossary’, ‘Fact’, ‘False Starts.’ She moves between the mics, talking straight to the audience with the confidence of a practised speaker, the determination of someone with something to say.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At first it is obvious what these different mics stand for. At ‘Glossary’, Ghelani reads out a litany of terms to describe immigration; at ‘High Horse’ she describes a set of reasons why ‘they’ shouldn’t come ‘here’; at ‘Fact’ she tells us about the emigration and immigration of the swallow. The mics are different sides to an argument, different means of expression – even if they’re different means that could be used by the same person. But before long, this clarity of purpose is dissolved. Ghelani’s subjects become more personal – sex, death, love, ambition – and she stands at ‘High Horse’ wondering why things have turned out for her the way they have. ‘…And I feed myself,’ she says, ‘I mean, that’s not the done thing, is it? In this day and age – for a woman to feed herself.’ </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At these moments, the simple set-up on stage stops being a device for communication and becomes a very urgent means of understanding the complexities of another mind. The mics, with their neat labels, might stand for different points of view, but Ghelani (and it does feel like Ghelani, a real person and not a character performed, who is confronting us on stage) won’t be divided up and packaged neatly. She needs all these mics and more; she needs to stand at them and amid them; she has an opinion and also something further, something in-between.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When she is not speaking with soft determination into the microphone, Ghelani fixes the audience with an electric stare and dances towards us. She flicks her wrists in flamenco, or shakes her hips to the punch-line of a joke, and all the time her eyes are fixed on us, fixating us with the sharp sting of another person appearing in full. The thrill of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Intermission </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is in the shocking vitality of this person on stage: the complexity of her thoughts and the richness of the way she moves. When she tackles death Ghelani walks to the microphone called ‘Fact’ and falls silent. This vital, full person – Stops. It is an apt metaphor for the unknowable-ness of death. For the audience watching, for a short, shivering moment, it also enacts the loss and terror that death brings. It’s a relief when Ghelani returns to us, smiling a knowing smile, full of life and energy once again.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This energy is sustained, in part, by a continuous soundtrack that ripens Ghelani’s conversational language. Sometimes a musical accompaniment, sometimes famous words uttered by famous people, and once, most memorably, the looped, rhythmic sound of someone weeping, the soundtrack both drives Ghelani’s speech forwards and snags the words back again. The rhythm acts as imperative and remainder, providing a continuous flow that connects the work to itself, as well as an atmospheric counter-reading of Ghelani’s thoughts. When she talks about love, for example, it is to the jaunty sound of a marching band, an incongruous mix that emphasises the banality of the list of sexual positions she recites. But this incongruity also emphasises the importance of Ghelani’s description of a single lover’s glance. The music drives the rhythm of the list only to dilute its sexual content - and, therefore, the latent eroticism of a woman reciting it on stage – which emboldens, instead, the eroticism of something far more personal. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In fact, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Intermission</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> is made up entirely of ‘something far more personal’. Pacitti Company’s in-between time is not a waiting room for life, it’s the very stuff of life itself. It is the thoughts and opinions that don’t have a department to fit into. It’s the mess that spills into a human being. And what can you do with all this information? The final, iconic scene poses a question about what it means to understand another person in full. Do you see her energy burning bright, or do you watch her energy burn away? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman; min-height: 12.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson is a writer and producer, and Co-Director of Open Dialogues. mary@opendialogues.com</span></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-70883349851082587822009-04-27T11:58:00.008+01:002009-04-28T18:46:00.903+01:00The Porcelain Project: a (mis)communication across objects and space<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 17.0px Lucida Grande"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 17.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">With Grace Ellen Barkey</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia">Initiated by Mary Kate Connolly and Eleanor Hadley Kershaw</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><b>The Porcelain Project</b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia">Barbican, Silk Street Theatre</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia">14, 15 April 2009</p></span><p></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: italic; font-family:georgia;">Grace Ellen Barkey and Eleanor Hadley Kershaw take a seat at a table outside the Waterside Café, Barbican. The fountain on the other side of the patio is gushing and people at other tables chatter happily over coffee in the afternoon sunshine. Eleanor places a tape recorder on the table between her fizzy water and Grace’s tea. They start to discuss Spill: Overspill and The Porcelain Project. The conversation quickly turns to the story of the performance’s evolution.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: I work quite intuitively. I don’t really think beforehand, “what does it mean?”. I consider it more like when a painter paints. Just go [</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she makes a hand gesture to suggest throwing</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">] with the paint and the white thing. You have all your luggage with you, all your knowledge and your life and your dreams and you just go for something… </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Lucida Handwriting; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';"><br /></span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA0NkEOq9y14NsdyNmyGpEhqsHLBviGg3_IjfEQpH7bK3oLoDnSeZCnumgoY_Wh1IJr_qABtZJRQ91G5XN4nqQJ3NRunooBpWOxoGcsX2taqwgMzRbZC8DWJXRgc1qpZ3gqgLpjbOQ2M8/s1600-h/PP_Tij.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA0NkEOq9y14NsdyNmyGpEhqsHLBviGg3_IjfEQpH7bK3oLoDnSeZCnumgoY_Wh1IJr_qABtZJRQ91G5XN4nqQJ3NRunooBpWOxoGcsX2taqwgMzRbZC8DWJXRgc1qpZ3gqgLpjbOQ2M8/s400/PP_Tij.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329325413196736322" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px; " /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span style="font: 14.0px Lucida Handwriting">I always tell the story </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that Lot, my partner in crime, and me, we were having a bit of time off… and we decided to do something small. Lot was a ceramicist, but she hadn’t practiced for years and years and I don’t know why but she started to study it again. I am a very big fan of porcelain, I just love to touch it, and in a flea market I always go to the cups. I have a whole collection of the most fragile cups, the more fragile the better. I think we [envisioned] a picture of a Louis XIV-style room - a room full of porcelain - and we said to each other, let’s do something with it. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">For me, theatre is a puppet theatre, in the sense of the absurdity and the grotesque nature of a puppet play; [where there might be] a kind of strange repeating, like “children did you see…”, and then something pops up there [</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she makes a hand gesture like a hand-puppet popping up</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">]. I said to Lot, let’s make a puppetry of porcelain, but really recognisable things like cups. So Lot started to make all the pottery. [We built] a little temple; on this platform there were porcelain things standing and hanging, and we would pull on wires and all these [pieces of porcelain] would move. For example, there’s this snake of cups moving [</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she makes a hand gesture to suggest a rolling wave</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">]. It’s just like a dream of little objects moving. We still show it sometimes in museums, this little manipulation of the porcelain, it takes like 10 minutes.</span></span><span style="font: 12.0px Times"> </span><span style="font: 14.0px Lucida Handwriting">So that’s how it started…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And when it was my turn to do a big production, at first we had another idea for a setting, but because we had so much porcelain we said, “we have spent so much time already with this porcelain, so let’s just throw it on the big stage and see what happens…” </span></span><span style="font: 14.0px Lucida Handwriting">And that’s how it grew.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Is the relationship between the audience and the porcelain the same in the installation and in the performance? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: It’s completely different. The trembling table that you see on stage is also in the installation. When it starts the people come in and they see all this porcelain falling and they can come much closer, they can express their curiosity differently. They go and look at the table and try to figure out “why does it tremble?” and “how does the porcelain fall?”. They are already completely into it before we even start the manipulation. And during the manipulation they come very close, very very close. It’s very light. And the porcelain has a quality, it’s very tender, it is beautiful. The music of it is tender. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In the show, we have this poetry of the porcelain in the temple, but I also wanted to show another side of it. It’s more absurd when a body carries the porcelain. When you have a porcelain nose you’re immediately a clownesque person. These objects become a part of the body but at the same time they are more like an aggressive outburst of the body. You want to touch another body but because of the porcelain it’s an impossibility: I wanted to play with this impossibility.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: One of the things that we noted in the performance is that the porcelain is not porous, there’s no way of getting through it. It feels like it’s getting between these bodies. We wondered whether you see the porcelain as something completely exterior; external to the body? Or do you see it as a representation of something more internal?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Of course, it’s not only an external thing. When you make theatre you are instantly telling something, in some way, even if the performance is abstract. You have the space, you have the time, you have the whole aspect of theatre: </span></span><span style="font: 14.0px Lucida Handwriting">you are telling a story</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What I try to do together with the dancers and Lot, is to create something new. </span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXHKuf_4c1zmRSjv50O8ZVbQXm0Y7HGeibSse65WM_rC8TMgkpsSsGKsXqeQQbFwZk2Ceb78ei1mIsf7FfycqJrLLiflrNtjytv1oxaT6TLvZWbRxV8pPZJ90xIrNVOC48fy6kSXwuLY/s1600-h/PP_Taka.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXHKuf_4c1zmRSjv50O8ZVbQXm0Y7HGeibSse65WM_rC8TMgkpsSsGKsXqeQQbFwZk2Ceb78ei1mIsf7FfycqJrLLiflrNtjytv1oxaT6TLvZWbRxV8pPZJ90xIrNVOC48fy6kSXwuLY/s400/PP_Taka.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329325767706405858" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">To trigger fantasy, to show that you can come up with something that doesn’t exist yet. The material and what I try to say grow together in relation to each other; it is something that I completely trust. It will tell a story whether you want it to or not - it is there. I sometimes say it’s kind of a meditation. To create something, you just have to go into it and try to open yourself to all the possibilities. And of course I have limited time with the dancers, I don’t have years and years. So I have to begin with an idea and very soon they start to understand, and come into my meditation too. We are working together, and this whole new world grows.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: The porcelain seems to almost create a language of its own – how would you describe this language? Would it be very formal and ornate, or sketchy and in note form, or something else entirely?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: I’m not so good in words, I really think in images. If it is a language it is a physical one, and of course there’s the sound that the porcelain makes. This is almost like a presence for me. The porcelain as an image is very present and I am always surprised to hear it. It’s such a beautiful gift of the porcelain to make sound. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: As much as I enjoyed the performance I also found it quite unsettling, specifically when thinking about the colonial connotations of the porcelain… </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: My work is really about the absurd and the grotesque: the poetry of the theatre, the mythical figures that represent the good and the bad. The mythical figure becomes human, and the human figure fails. It is always disturbing and always funny to see human people trying to communicate and failing. And along with the porcelain, the mythical figures and the kings are an excuse to trigger something; to do something else with time, with material, to play, to invent. So the kings were a fascination because it’s such a terrific question – what is it to be a king? It’s a shame that there are no good kings any more. A good king should be on the square every Sunday and… dance for the people [</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">laughs</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">]… And why do all these kings go so crazy? To go so far in their rituals and to get so caught up with this absurd life they’re living.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: This really came across in the performance – they’re so overindulgent and decadent that their world just falls apart and becomes chaotic…</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Lucida Handwriting"><span style="font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">: And at the same time</span></span> </span>it’s a fairytale, the king and the princess and the frog<span style="font: 12.0px Arial">.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: And in creating the show you were “playing” and you see theatre as puppetry. As an audience member, you get the sense that these beings on stage are almost like children, in the way that they’re teasing each other. They often look at us for our approval; they’re playing to us. I felt very implicated; that they might not be doing that if I wasn’t watching. And when the movement becomes disturbing and sexual, I felt responsible for this descent into chaos. It’s a very interesting relationship that the performers establish with the audience by continuously looking back to us.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: It’s a weird choice to make: are we going to look or not? And that’s why we put what we call “soldiers” [line of tall vases] at the front of the stage, so that they can’t come out, so that they can’t escape. So that we ask the audience just to look and say “what the fuck are they doing?!” It’s important to feel an energy that’s completely useless, because that’s what we are. You would look down from there [</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">gestures to sky</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">] at us and at how we fight each other, and how this one is for this god, and that one is for that god, and the people on the other planets would say “what the fuck are they doing?!”.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: So you’re putting the audience in the position of looking in from the outside, from “outer space”.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-kLCTr7u19wvuuZoDdvm0oPVeCxRQ8SuLXfUfs0WuX86wI0zw7gpnSzMlEi-wXQUDTUeTcj8a0RfgZ6vNy2K9NXjidxnnSLTZK68DgrLYcyJ_U4YFHkQGS5BQX8axu1cP2Z16MpifQQ/s400/PP_group.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329326255226814354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At the end of the performance one of the vases broke. It was very shocking, and it brought back the idea that the porcelain is so fragile. We wondered whether that moment was intentional?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: No. But every performance something breaks. We don’t know when and we don’t know why. It can be that something tinkles too hard, or somebody stumbles over something or several things, three or four things.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: It really is unpredictable – as life is.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Has something ever broken in a way that has made it difficult for the performance to continue?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Well if something breaks there is a broom and Misha, in character, can come and clean it up.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i></i><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Grace and Eleanor continue their discussion while finishing their drinks. They shake hands and smile. Eleanor exits through the café. Grace exits across the patio. A waitress enters from the café door and clears Grace’s teacup and Eleanor’s water bottle onto a tray, then exits.</span></span></i></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:7;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:60px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:60px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; line-height: 19px; font-family:Trebuchet;font-size:12px;"></span></span></span></b></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:7;color:#333333;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:7;"><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; "><b>Mary Kate</b> is a freelance writer on performance and live art, based in London.</p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div></span></b></span><p></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'Times New Roman';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eleanor Hadley Kershaw </span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is a writer focusing on performance and live art, currently based between Brussels, London and Bristol.</span></span></span><span><a href="mailto:ehadleykershaw@googlemail.com" style=" text-decoration: underline; color:blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ehadleykershaw@googlemail.com</span></span></span></span></a></span></span></i></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-61082438880728894592009-04-27T11:57:00.002+01:002010-09-02T10:22:38.760+01:00Small talk 04 - Saving the World by Alex Eisenberg<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Saving the World</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> by Gob Squad</span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Greenwich Dance Agency</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">10</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> April 2009</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">3.09pm – 3.17pm</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0pxcolor:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Unreserved Seating: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Third Row – Seat 1 - (A)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Third Row – Seat 2 - (L) </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Third Row – Seat 3 - (C)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0pxcolor:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0pxcolor:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You can read an introduction to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Small Talk</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk_06.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">________________________________________________</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; color:#333333;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">3.09pm</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Hello</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Hiya…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: How are you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: I’m okay, you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I’m alright…had to wolf down a sandwich just before I came in…I came a bit late…I’ve made it.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So what do you think it's going to be like?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: I’ve got no idea? What about you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Well…I think there are going to be a fair few projections…it looks like…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Seven screens…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Have you seen anything by them before?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: No…have you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah we went to see something last year called ‘Kitchen’.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh right…how was that?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Amazing, amazing!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh really…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…it was kind of…it was at the Soho Theatre and it was kind of…the stage was a screen but they were filming everything behind the screen and projecting it live and it ended up with members of the audience going behind the screen and participating, and my partner, she went to it twice and actually performed in it once. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh wow…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Cos she was dragged off…by the company. And you know, it was great…very funny…very interesting ideas!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Great…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: And we were totally blown away by them so that’s why we came today. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Have you been to any other things in the festival?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: We went to see Inferno last week and C went to Purgatory as well…yeah, I liked Inferno but the people I was with didn’t like it that much…what about you?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I’ve seen things yeah…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Any recommendations?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Well…everything’s only on for a couple of days.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Hello J…!!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Hello Al…you alright?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah good…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Busy working?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Busy…yep…yep…busy working…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Saw you talking to them out there…apparently Berlin, Germany…it's the place to be!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It's the place to be…this is what I have said…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Generally or….</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: And you can live for a fiver for a year!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Fifty – you can live for fifty quid a week…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Fifty quid a year!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Fifty quid a decade!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Live on cheese and sausage…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Not cheese…!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Fifty quid – how would you live?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: You’d get a nice little flat…you can get…food…bratwurst…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: You may even get a ‘driver’ for that much…in Berlin, it really is…it's the answer!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Fantastic…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: They don’t ask you how you are spending the public’s money…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: It's the way it should be…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: It's basically elevated to a social concern, in that a healthy mind is something that should be part of public spending.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Whereas over here we’ve got the Olympics – so it's healthy body. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Slightly bigger bill as well, probably. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Yeah…well obesity is more of a hot topic…we’re the third most obese or second most obese after Germany. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: It's all that bratwurst…they get it so cheap!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 28.4px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: What do you think of this then J?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Absolute gold…I mean those projectors…I could just watch them for a while.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…it will probably be a disappointment when they actually turn on…won’t it…it’ll ruin it…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">J: Yup…turning on will turn you off!...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE] </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Right, I am going to my seat now.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Enjoy the show…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: See you….</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 63.8px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Its not that busy is it?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: No…no…cos they are doing two evenings…when is it? Last night and tonight?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…so I think there’s one on tonight…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: It's a weird time for people to come in the afternoon on a Friday. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It is Good Friday though. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: This is true…and we made a day trip of it…we came from North London…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Me too…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Day trip to Greenwich. We got the bus here. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I drove…but I had to stop in Tower Hill, so a sort of two-leg journey. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Well we were up at Kings Cross, and we thought, we could get on the tube…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: You took the bus all the way here?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: We got two buses, one to Peckham and one to here…it only took…less than an hour. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: That’s pretty good actually… </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: And it's not often we get down to Greenwich. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I’ve been here a few times but hardly. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: This place is amazing…is this quite a well known sort of dance place…?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Is it a school or a…?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah it's space and support for artists. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: So where do you live in North London?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Near Golders Green at the moment.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…we live in Holloway. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I drove through there this morning. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Holloway Road looking glorious on the bank holiday morning. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Quite empty…which is good for the drivers. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…everywhere was very quiet today…it's one of the quietest days of the year I reckon.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: You know I didn’t even realise it was actually a Bank Holiday today. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: You notice it when you get out though…on the streets.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: You do…it's definitely quiet. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…I think the only place that’s busy today is Greenwich. [LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: What…cos we’re here!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…us…amongst others. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Slightly tricky seats, aren’t they? Mine’s got a bit of a dip. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: They remind me a bit of school seats. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…very stackable. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah…good for stacking – not for sitting. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Not the best! [LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: So I’m wondering if any people are going to appear?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah, me too. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Or if it's just going to be….screens? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">[PAUSE]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How many are there in the company?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: About four or five I think.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Some from Nottingham?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: And from Germany…they are a mixture of Germany and England. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You know…I’ve got…hayfever’s coming at this time of the year you see…so I’ve got quite an itchy eye.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: You taken anything for it?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Usually, but I keep forgetting to go and buy them. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Hmmmm….I’ve had hayfever for many, many years and I tried last year…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: The injection? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: No…just to not take anything…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Right…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: And it was kind of okay, once I got used to it…more comfortable…I think I did last year……C, did I not take anything for hayfever last year? Did I completely stop?...And it kind of worked didn’t it…?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">C: I thought you had something for your eyes. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…I have the eyes coming now…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">C: Reddy eyes?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Yeah…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Not much you can do when the eyes come…you’ve got to take a tablet really. You can’t just hope they are going to go away. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Every time before I see a show…I sit here and I start scratching my eyes! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Wow….</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I know…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: That’s quite early…because I think I get it a bit later…it depends on different kinds of pollen…doesn’t it…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">C: Do you know what yours is? Is it grass or trees or…? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I don’t know specifically…but I do get it quite badly…so I ought to know. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Hmmmm…mine’s kind of grassy isn’t it….and then trees…and probably flowers as well…in fact it’s everything!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: It's pollen! [ALL LAUGH]</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: It's pollen!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: But…where is the pollen in grass?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Ummm…some grass will have little seeds…won’t it? Is there pollen in there?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: I don’t know? There’s hay…?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">C: What about flowers, no…?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Cos they say hay and hayfever…? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">L: Yeah….hmmmm…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A: Oh…I think it's going a bit more quite now…</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">3.17pm</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">SAVING THE WORLD</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">4.36pm</span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Georgia; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:14px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7o_XO3KEJ2aGl3hw1uRMWG4wZehU7VbNdSJX4752UqTppVwdQz_kKcI6UzA7K4zdx4SUTl0Fw-cnmbLcLK29E37L8kOC7VLS2tfX814Kl-G6WkE1-QfIfu2LNe1XEo3LrhMXlbzYCR4A/s400/CIMG0674.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329328033950939218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; font-family:Trebuchet;font-size:12px;"></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#0000EE;"><p style="text-align: left;margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">______________________________________</span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">To find out about Alex's Small Talk click here:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;"><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/small-talk_06.html" style="text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Small Talk by Alex Eisenberg</span></span></a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:14px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival.</span></span></span></p></span>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-77659610289332945342009-04-24T10:41:00.009+01:002009-04-26T13:19:32.558+01:00Ecology up the money tree: Pacitti Company's A Forest by David Berridge<div><p color="#482383" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span style="text-decoration: underline; "><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=6"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A Forest</span></a></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>Conceived and directed by Robert Pacitti</i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>Co-devised and performed by Richard Eton, Sheila Ghelani and Robert Pacitti</i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Pit, Barbican</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">7-9 April</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><br /></p></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxiXSoKTB2fwKTlt95IpIpTvC3dFBrunC2AGYtLtFG9itnmJWzOOMfmqyylVdSo7sGYtzBzwVWi1BH93miYxUk7awcQIPS56K_zxuRmI2iee8PmmgSXYJ6RTznWti7uU-9_L4BzVHici0/s1600-h/A+Forest+-+Ribbon+image+-+Pacitti+Company+2005%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxiXSoKTB2fwKTlt95IpIpTvC3dFBrunC2AGYtLtFG9itnmJWzOOMfmqyylVdSo7sGYtzBzwVWi1BH93miYxUk7awcQIPS56K_zxuRmI2iee8PmmgSXYJ6RTznWti7uU-9_L4BzVHici0/s400/A+Forest+-+Ribbon+image+-+Pacitti+Company+2005%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328192905482756418" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color:#482383;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There’s been little about nature in the shows at this years SPILL. Or, at least, not much about the non-, other- or more-than human bits of it, if one excludes the dogs and horses of Castellucci. So, feeling a bit eco-starved, I felt somewhat expectant waiting outside the Barbican’s Pit to see a show called A Forest.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Actually, A Forest, too, had little in the way of nature, if by that I meant pastoral landscapes, lush vegetation, living animals, or just lots of green. For their hour long show Pacitti Company had modified the Pit into a small space in which a circle of chairs surrounded an island of 2p pieces. If the shape suggested an island biogeography, with all the uniqueness and variability Darwin found so exciting on the Galapagos Islands, then its bronze mass suggested geography had become money slightly quicker than money had become landscape.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A man lying on the coins. I can’t remember if he was naked at the beginning of the show, but he was naked at the end, and in the beginning, if he wasn’t, he acted as if he wished he was. He writhed on the coins, kissing and licking them. At the end of the show a bare tree was arranged above his naked body, both trapping and growing out of his body like some mutant rib-cage extension. No leaves, though, or not until two other performers had pinned a show-off, greedy foliage of fifty pound notes to its branches.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In-between these two scenes, A Forest sought to construct its own biogeography, defined by how body, nature, and money were all a part of some slightly traumatic ecosystem of desire. Central to this eco-restoration endeavor was a man stood at a microphone telling stories. The details haven’t stayed with me, and maybe that was the point. If the style and tone of his narratives reminded me of folk stories, he had a relish for details that stood out from and even abolished the narrative, proposing instead an immediate, visceral value. A man threading his eyes with red thread, for example, or sticking pins in his heart.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Over on the other side of coin island was its ring-mistress. On entering the Pit all of the audience were handed two pence pieces, before finding bald dolls on their seats. The woman came round with a money box, and everyone placed their coins inside. That seemed the end of the matter, but then the woman was back to show the audience, not the money box but both her breasts. Later she came round with a tray on which was a pair of pigs trotters. Were these the principle raw materials on which this economy-ecology depends? Later still, she collected the bald dolls, covering them in coins, both burial and blessing. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Her relationship to the man in the middle was more hands-on. Not that the man didn’t have actions to perform under his own volition. At one point he ran around the circle of coins, like a lurcher running and running until it just collapses. But ultimately his movements were determined by the woman, who tied antlers to his back. Or she ran back and forth over the coins, jumping over his naked body. Such actions summed up the tone of their relationship and the piece as a whole: caught in a tension between conscious and unconscious; autonomy and projection; flow of narrative against the fixed, iconographic image.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The naked man with the antlers on his back captured a lot of these tensions. As an image was it a mythical creation, or product of performance’s capitalist need for ever new product diversification, or both? Similarly, A Forest used storytelling to see if its conservative forms and agendas could be applicable to a more political, Queer agenda. Or does the poetic power of such stories always overwhelm the political interests of a particular teller and time? Pacitti Company hopes for the former, but tentatively, and A Forest was a laboratory for such a hope.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Take the coins themselves and how they were lit. Sometimes they were isolated in the space: a warm light gave them a semi-magical bronze-becoming-gold aura. Other times the light was more flat and the coins were part of the broader environment. Not totally ordinary, of course, because it was an enormous very non-everyday number of 2p pieces. If we can’t make stories our own, or insert them into our own political and performance agendas, we can at least work back and forth between their magic and their almost-everydayness, and see what, if anything, happens. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">David Berridge writes and edits the blogzine More Milk Yvette: A Journal of the Broken Screen. moremilkyvette@gmail.com</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-22286525935497217092009-04-24T10:00:00.004+01:002009-04-24T12:41:02.585+01:00Telling the telling of a tale by Mary Paterson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLZYqpAyxZ_NzLbw3KnRzEdNmgdRwyINDTMQiy93iNakv1iOdXHInwWaMigThzAxh31qmxvHTI_j8Mhmp2IZEtGK3YlmLoCqFlUNMvS8Xoz-idDkMZQmrsSiObkR8QP4Ump1mn7eWUzY/s1600-h/Void+260+x+400.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLZYqpAyxZ_NzLbw3KnRzEdNmgdRwyINDTMQiy93iNakv1iOdXHInwWaMigThzAxh31qmxvHTI_j8Mhmp2IZEtGK3YlmLoCqFlUNMvS8Xoz-idDkMZQmrsSiObkR8QP4Ump1mn7eWUzY/s400/Void+260+x+400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328184210663611490" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color:#482383;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=12">Void Story</a></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color:#482383;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">by Forced Entertainment</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Soho Theatre</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">21- 25 April</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The set for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Void Story</span>, Forced Entertainment’s latest show, is made up of two small desks, one large desk and four chairs. There are four lamps – one to illuminate the desk space of each actor – four scripts, and four microphones. On the long desk, there are two Apple Mac laptops and a mixing desk with a complex system of dials and wires. At the back of the stage is a screen, onto which are projected a series of static, collaged images in black and white that correspond to the story. The story is being told by the four actors at the utilitarian desks, reading their scripts, and speaking into their microphones.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In other words, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Void Story</span> looks like the making of a radio play. The actors perform for an aural, and not a visual, effect – the mixing deck provides background noise and other distortions, and they also use more old fashioned techniques like rustling a crisp packet to make a phone line crack up. The images onscreen look like black and white photos that have been cut and pasted, then photocopied together. The result is a collection of flat, studio poses (woman and man standing, woman and man looking surprised, woman and man lying on floor) inside a series of banal, disjointed landscapes (tower next to tree next to lamppost) which make no attempt at perspective or verisimilitude. Rather than illustrate the story being told – a twisting tale of two protagonists caught in a hostile, post-apocalyptic world – these collages approximate elements of it. Just like listening to a play on the radio, then, the real pictures are conjured in the audience’s minds. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But the presence of these almost-illustrations, as well as the physical presence of the actors and equipment onstage, means that the viewer cannot simply drift into an imagined landscape of her own. Seeing the constituent parts means you can never quite suspend your disbelief and surrender to the fictional whole. That child you hear is actually the voice of a grown woman, distorted through an orange microphone and a glowing computer; that robot is the voice of a middle aged man. Both product and production, Void Story dissects the body of the play like a living autopsy. It’s not just the inanimate objects that make up the ‘equipment’ in this show; I should also have listed the voices of two women and two men, not anchored to their bodies but practically deployed wherever they come in useful. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In fact, voices, images, plot devices and other pieces of equipment are used and re-used throughout the play, as if they are interchangeable tools fit for any purpose. Photographs that show a woman and man scream, for example, are used later in the play to represent them dance. In the context of theatre, of course, the word for this is 'prop': an incidental, almost abritrary object that carries no value of its own. Void Story uses props <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">as props –</span>as tools to point towards an act of storytelling, rather than elements subsumed into a story.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And what of the story itself? The protagonists, Kim and Jackson, are chased, attacked, victimised, cheated and conned by people acting in inexplicable ways. They are pushed from event to event, journeying to unknown places and meeting a cast of strangers. In other words, it is every story ever told, every fairytale ever uttered, every dream you’ve ever had. It is Everyman and Everywoman, in Everywhere, affected by everything. As such, the story is both the bare skeletons of a tale and the full body of an epic. On one hand it is a series of unlikely things happening to two people you don’t know; but on the other it is a universal story of people dealing with adversity, of humanity in the face of fear. There is so much left unsaid that the story never reaches a narrative arc. Instead, it begins with a bang and ends only when the protagonists fail to react to the world around them. And this ending, too, is unresolved – like a computer game, the characters could just have faded away to start once again at the beginning. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Void Story</span>, then, even the plot is a prop – one of a collection of instruments that can sustain the whole. But if everything is a tool, what can the greater whole be? Instead of a whole there is a hole, a void, at the the heart of this story. What is left is the process of story-telling and story-watching itself. Beneath the thick and delicious syrup of fiction, lies an equally warm and spicy blend – the desire for fiction to take place. It is made in the affectionate looks between actors as they wait for each other’s cues. It is the cocked heads of the audience as they follow the actor’s leads. It is also the naïve collages that bear so obviously the mark of a human hand. Unlike pictures made in Photoshop, for example, the smudges and imperfections of these images trace their own means of production. In the same way, by exposing the aural ‘tricks’ of a radio play, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Void Story</span> does not simply tell a tale, but also tells the telling of the tale.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sitting in the packed auditorium of Soho Theatre, it felt like the play was a balloon that the audience and the actors were bouncing in the air between them. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if the balloon fell to the ground – we can always pick it up and start again. But first, let’s enjoy the game of keeping it afloat, of making the play together. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson is Co-Director of Open Dialogues</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-30811764539392782832009-04-24T09:47:00.008+01:002009-04-24T10:39:22.474+01:00Impossible Tolerance by Mary Paterson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-sKxlf6lohkEQqewjd6YN6SB9Spkwbd_zf-fxT6SHTf7kqWEF-oAs6FfDL5-NYbFnCILQJLKKn3cKNYl7EaPa3GuN8lH08RG5bKiaGkS5Xipk86EwVg08H7BRzqgyt5WBKQhEFHm-fc/s1600-h/Orgy+of+Tolerance+(cross).jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-sKxlf6lohkEQqewjd6YN6SB9Spkwbd_zf-fxT6SHTf7kqWEF-oAs6FfDL5-NYbFnCILQJLKKn3cKNYl7EaPa3GuN8lH08RG5bKiaGkS5Xipk86EwVg08H7BRzqgyt5WBKQhEFHm-fc/s400/Orgy+of+Tolerance+(cross).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328183653753706962" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color: #482383"><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=9">Orgy of Tolerance<span style="text-decoration: underline"> </span></a></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Jan Fabre</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Royal Festival Hall</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">15 and 16 April.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In a world where everything is tolerated, how do you know what it means? If we agree that taste is relative, then what’s the point discussing taste at all? If consumerism doesn’t have a moral or ethical cloak – you don’t need to consume for any other reason – then why will having things make you happy?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In a world like this, mightn’t the journey of life just as well be a round of competitive masturbation – an exercise in ostentatious self pleasuring, the rivalry of which stops it being pleasurable at all?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If there is no moral compass, in other words, the drive for personal fulfilment has no context, and no prize.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Welcome, to the Orgy of Tolerance.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Jan Fabre’s production really does begin with a round of competitive masturbation, in which two men and two women try to orgasm to the vicious encouragement of a team of military coaches. It is the woman who loses, lying shivering and unfulfilled at the front of the stage, who introduces the rest of the show - she is ‘very excited’ [to welcome us to the show] she tells us, although she is crying with the frustration of not being able to come. Unable to amuse herself like the other contestants, this loser sets the scene for an indictment of contemporary culture, consumerism and the liberals who pretend they don’t take part.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In a collection of scenes that dissolve into each other like photos in a digital picture frame, Orgy of Tolerance tweaks the small things in otherwise recognisable scenarios. A group of people takes an exercise class – to exercise money. Three pregnant women give birth – to supermarket goods. The result is a grotesque image of modern values, obsessed with the inexplicable pursuit of inexplicable things. In one scene a woman has sex with a sofa, with the help of two leering and excited men. It is hard to think of an object that is less erotic, less able to resemble a human, less an object of desire than a sofa. And yet here in the UK, furniture giant DFS is having its famous sale again every weekend, so there must be something attractive about spending hundreds of pounds on a leather three-seater.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This complacency of desire in Fabre’s play is neither a solution to unhappiness, nor a useful tonic for it. Early on, Jesus makes an entrance. Bearing his cross on the way to dying for man’s sins, he is immediately spotted and styled by a camp fashion director, and his cross is removed. Instead of relieving Jesus of his burden, however, this propels him to spend the rest of the play wandering on and off stage, balancing an imaginary cross like a deluded circus performer. Later, couples wander on stage and start to pick out parts of the set to buy for their living rooms, but they can’t get their fix from consumerism alone: they also need a good snorting of cocaine to help them on their way. And what of the men who are fellated by silent, stiletto-wearing slaves as they discuss their ‘trophies’ from human hunts? Nodding sagely at each other’s racist jokes, they slide imperceptibly into barking madness – one of them sticks his rifle up his arse and yelps like a rabid dog.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The irony of Orgy of Tolerance is that one of the ways it fulfils its title by trying to be as offensive as possible. At one stage all the actors line up and shout ‘Fuck You!’ at every social group imaginable. Personally, the moment I got offended was when a woman wearing a Klu Klux Klan outfit started moonwalking to the sound of The Beatles' 'Come Together'. What was this collection of cultural references doing together in a visual trick? And when did it become ok to impersonate the KKK?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The point, of course, is that it’s not ok. It is also not ok to turn the famous images of torture at Abu Ghraib into jokes for an audience to smirk at in the Queen Elizabeth Hall. It is by being so relentlessly offensive that Fabre hopes to make his point – moral relativism can only go so far; you need to have a sense of right and wrong before anything can make sense at all. An Orgy of Tolerance, the play suggests, is a degraded and putrid place, where meaning is squeezed out of the vacuum packaging of consumer goods. Tolerance, paradoxically, is only feasible if the rest of the world is tolerable. The problem the play sets itself is: how do you make this point without simulating the Orgy?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mary Paterson is Co-director of Open Dialogues mary@opendialogues.com</span></p>Open Dialogueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693487238071033388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-43543171902871713372009-04-24T01:10:00.007+01:002009-04-30T16:47:37.834+01:00National Platform - Day One - 18th April 2009<div style="text-align: left;">National Theatre Studio</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><div style="text-align: left; "> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia">18 April 2009</p></div></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyaxksjKRLdOUrCxuc7hsJ_5M-nUiwpW3htD-vqqvziNGCHUOEdGzbHjuGSEJqlIBxaPTeG7iIfqAAtnFLckTiUyGcE529UxGJCnbeaPbw5Rh4IU57nImg0Y1hOa6TrGf-tlKdFK43r48/s200/Sconesim.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328033810287599810" /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgcrl9n5EPT6ltVklxFmR_G6CLAQqPTdiSL7jWC5wlomwqu-I1rAIpIT6mmsjTvymgDRQTzRRglOm0VJmoQeEdyrmj26VDk6Tvz2IbURxDHvee7SGKm2gltKaakG3kdsahifwtyTTA_o/s1600-h/National+Platform+-+Other+Other+Other.jpg"></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:50px;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Over two days, the </span><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?pid=7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">SPILL National Platform</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> presented 20 performance works by emerging artists, selected from almost 300 applications. The works reflected an incredibly diverse range of forms and themes: durational and installation work, engagements with the conventions of theatre, interactive provocations, and autobiographical narrative.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">As writers, we knew we would be unable to respond in detail to all of the work, but we also wanted to avoid imposing any selective criteria, even a random one, on which work was covered. We decided in advance of the Platform that we would impose a constraint on our responses. This would provide a structure for giving equal space to each of the performances and would make the most of our limited time. We decided that we would respond to each of the works, and we would limit our response to the space of a 3x5 index card.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We like the idea that each of the identical cards seems analogous to the opportunity offered to the emerging artists: a blank slot, to be filled individually, but unavoidably to be experienced side-by-side with the rest of the programme, as part of an assembly or collection of material.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Although for the most part we have prepared our cards after the event, there’s also something about this format that reflects the experience of writing: taking notes in the dark, collecting fragments and impressions and responses. Trying to capture not just the event on stage but our internal journeys. Thinking always, at every moment, even before the moment has finished, about how to translate into words the transient and complex experience.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">These cards are only scraps, only partial and inadequate records of the events of the weekend, but we hope something of the extraordinary and boundless diversity of work is reflected by these responses. Perhaps they can stand as the beginning of a discussion – please add your own comments below.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Theron Schmidt</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Please </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">click</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> on each image to view larger. </span></span></i></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b>Please Note:</b> You made need to zoom out/in using your browser to view the image in a suitable size.</span></span></i></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Mamoru Iriguchi - <i>Pregnant?!</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Alex Eisenberg</span></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizn_WuXKL63A5Zb75cRA8tI6tJq2cSjxzjhoBAi1ckwUfJ3DM2dnrP-W7TwSwOMvYAy-0UHpPFRnvWjYXZA_AEm8MFRfCUe-QVoARJKyHGm5JMTDCcoAl1_CmJ0im2VCCWFINZRX0Um4/s400/mamoru.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329333146398480162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 249px; " /></span></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-size:42px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: normal;font-size:16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; font-family:Georgia;font-size:42px;"></span></i></span></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><i><p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Madeleine Trigg - </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Sutre</span></span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Mary Paterson</span></span></span></p></i></span></span><p></p><p></p></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzxTDQGE-KmWGvKOAECj5I5NjzZVoPaPzdPWjvC-obJYM97i8mR8EjphyphenhyphenpIiyUNOY-s2VpvwDO3sS1hjDQijwIYbLTsbmjj4RLn9ytGrkqDrjB1_mb-4hAF72CPBRA7sK5RIhGynVXjU/s1600-h/Maddy+Trig.jpg"><img style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzxTDQGE-KmWGvKOAECj5I5NjzZVoPaPzdPWjvC-obJYM97i8mR8EjphyphenhyphenpIiyUNOY-s2VpvwDO3sS1hjDQijwIYbLTsbmjj4RLn9ytGrkqDrjB1_mb-4hAF72CPBRA7sK5RIhGynVXjU/s320/Maddy+Trig.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328026367354797586" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Elyssa Livergant - </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A Kiss From the Last Red Squirrel</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">by Mary Kate Connolly</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IKJh_g1FWSu_aaW96IiFpX_ya7DQxEibZm6Fes5ioFB4DlJgYHvuRTimPjS9eTsNuGb7ChXMC1qj3vXKLh3TViwIfGNWBIEhtb6QkUExCNNB1kKfx3IH8Ojf337nBF1ldTN2BHpKeRI/s1600-h/elyssa01.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IKJh_g1FWSu_aaW96IiFpX_ya7DQxEibZm6Fes5ioFB4DlJgYHvuRTimPjS9eTsNuGb7ChXMC1qj3vXKLh3TViwIfGNWBIEhtb6QkUExCNNB1kKfx3IH8Ojf337nBF1ldTN2BHpKeRI/s320/elyssa01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328026364032815330" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSXtsTbXd6PIyCLkAGWhkCRuxgSgnnLVH2wZcrMKEi5ZPNa_271eoc5h1T3WzNoLiLtmhtAPhH5mQr8JyxakGvhZ7JoQ0j2x8VUYMmGg9vEhYhTJxtLT2jWwrlQNk9PLbHdBKgIpPsA/s320/elyssa+02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328030929049732514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Neil Trefor Hughes </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Minimalist Music for Young People</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Alex Eisenberg</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRB14eI9W4YLepIIaMYJ9rJzTYTSI5A7I-QC2IzXxmyK9xNELH7KY2XvrkZllnIz5H0lJr9rBc5_aYfIIoGr2pV12APe8ofaPlxReOPwRS2j9ZFef7yJH9sXgsiBKSght5oCnIk9A186Q/s320/Neil+Trefor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328187558155420658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 207px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex continues his response to this work</span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/alexs-response-to-national-platform.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Claire Adams -</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Photopollution</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">By Rachel Lois Clapham</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtoS1vIfq_M4zhMm9X4-A1bwwDD6GMtc5E41DdmbUDHOPKQzNWkVrSqrMETn0RQBQYKnzKBjEwamsITH3b13hyphenhyphen3K93ETFY86uXxu7Tf2CWliASVwKhEoIQOxkRAREZnGCErNpstRD1P8/s1600-h/Claire+Adams.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtoS1vIfq_M4zhMm9X4-A1bwwDD6GMtc5E41DdmbUDHOPKQzNWkVrSqrMETn0RQBQYKnzKBjEwamsITH3b13hyphenhyphen3K93ETFY86uXxu7Tf2CWliASVwKhEoIQOxkRAREZnGCErNpstRD1P8/s320/Claire+Adams.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328026358719665826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Catalina Garces - </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Identi-ffy</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">By Rachel Lois Clapham</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7yC3a2MdHp06xX_r5dGU0RV5HroHXsOoY6RqImGW4cuIQOWA9fCNHCltvf88_z7X8Q3-6cj1xh8b9szm2jNrHEdTSFgJrWrAoGxmZ4LfYNexEC-8ol5PqdYl1BZwW1292OpiXxwsaxA/s1600-h/Catalina.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7yC3a2MdHp06xX_r5dGU0RV5HroHXsOoY6RqImGW4cuIQOWA9fCNHCltvf88_z7X8Q3-6cj1xh8b9szm2jNrHEdTSFgJrWrAoGxmZ4LfYNexEC-8ol5PqdYl1BZwW1292OpiXxwsaxA/s320/Catalina.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328026353468656050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:42px;"><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 14.0px Georgia">Mitch and Parry</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 14.0px Georgia"><i>I Host You, Now Tonight, Let Me Show You How</i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 11.0px Georgia">by Alex Eisenberg</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 11.0px Georgia"><br /></p></span></span></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmJHxkdMTIyVc2AbBN8PxAVvKi2xN00TPP7EKQ13HCMFQ0GojMA_gf5g6R5vw5632ZJTpSfTh-KVcZnQUEoBEsRD6pKipey8F_tglCEDSrdaVt7aN8mYvmQmHuwypxAj6pU7ItSjSpw/s1600-h/Mitch+and+Parry+1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmJHxkdMTIyVc2AbBN8PxAVvKi2xN00TPP7EKQ13HCMFQ0GojMA_gf5g6R5vw5632ZJTpSfTh-KVcZnQUEoBEsRD6pKipey8F_tglCEDSrdaVt7aN8mYvmQmHuwypxAj6pU7ItSjSpw/s320/Mitch+and+Parry+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328029080193622002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcL9cDRX68S3PoWu66LKR4r0t_IvwXRifB3Vf4iAXNvz_PD9SGEXDWn9rtzahnr625y5LkB_rviRRg3mb1SFvLnljhYV1kBESMRamFZqgfve3PmlEv3OGTiNE_nJPGiF84275zpqbr60/s1600-h/Mitch+and+Parry+2.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcL9cDRX68S3PoWu66LKR4r0t_IvwXRifB3Vf4iAXNvz_PD9SGEXDWn9rtzahnr625y5LkB_rviRRg3mb1SFvLnljhYV1kBESMRamFZqgfve3PmlEv3OGTiNE_nJPGiF84275zpqbr60/s320/Mitch+and+Parry+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328029077861332786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUk_kSddPxFO74CquhaCwsnCPaWQXql_lJ4AGVZ0JUt-_Sp_4zOrg5jlHM0B0YgvCY5R9Q6KgxFCMfSjDJu4fZup75NUQWWTDLIAs_6vlBQvCcfAaK_9xJIJnJwxy32iYAkAxjX01ZXE/s1600-h/Mitch+and+Parry+3.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUk_kSddPxFO74CquhaCwsnCPaWQXql_lJ4AGVZ0JUt-_Sp_4zOrg5jlHM0B0YgvCY5R9Q6KgxFCMfSjDJu4fZup75NUQWWTDLIAs_6vlBQvCcfAaK_9xJIJnJwxy32iYAkAxjX01ZXE/s320/Mitch+and+Parry+3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328029074859922034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px; text-align: center; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">Alex continues his response to Mitch and Parry </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/alexs-response-to-mitch-and-parry.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Amanda Couch - </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Dust Passing</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">by Mary Paterson</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlk3w2w7t3_yGQGONW7xZwcwWAWFz5Ezd78_UIaefeJ5XsFXAMvBEYtIU3sWGzWz6azsHcmZ4vkcaW9vrbnnr2COK_l8RikoKIBct11tLBrl0dStUOT9EqsdKfld0UEOmr4V_en9HGEgs/s1600-h/Amanda+Crouch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlk3w2w7t3_yGQGONW7xZwcwWAWFz5Ezd78_UIaefeJ5XsFXAMvBEYtIU3sWGzWz6azsHcmZ4vkcaW9vrbnnr2COK_l8RikoKIBct11tLBrl0dStUOT9EqsdKfld0UEOmr4V_en9HGEgs/s320/Amanda+Crouch.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328026351574028386" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Arial"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Other, Other, Other </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Long Winded in Five Parts</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">by Eleanor Hadley Kershaw</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgcrl9n5EPT6ltVklxFmR_G6CLAQqPTdiSL7jWC5wlomwqu-I1rAIpIT6mmsjTvymgDRQTzRRglOm0VJmoQeEdyrmj26VDk6Tvz2IbURxDHvee7SGKm2gltKaakG3kdsahifwtyTTA_o/s1600-h/National+Platform+-+Other+Other+Other.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgcrl9n5EPT6ltVklxFmR_G6CLAQqPTdiSL7jWC5wlomwqu-I1rAIpIT6mmsjTvymgDRQTzRRglOm0VJmoQeEdyrmj26VDk6Tvz2IbURxDHvee7SGKm2gltKaakG3kdsahifwtyTTA_o/s320/National+Platform+-+Other+Other+Other.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328029082424760466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Nathan Walker - </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Bad Bad</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">b</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">M</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">r</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">K</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">e</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">C</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">n</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">n</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">y</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:14px;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbylXYBRFk3wic3lPux1EldlMaD7e1cUFCwPvRKifc9vKCrMeSWSJB5HhPz7jlmPsXdHC8shegnndsysvyVLXfkIH3efDtCowYE6sVng13bTZ1En5STzT7bjU1tUGirAF5qzdBMtFu9k/s1600-h/nathan1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbylXYBRFk3wic3lPux1EldlMaD7e1cUFCwPvRKifc9vKCrMeSWSJB5HhPz7jlmPsXdHC8shegnndsysvyVLXfkIH3efDtCowYE6sVng13bTZ1En5STzT7bjU1tUGirAF5qzdBMtFu9k/s320/nathan1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328044833928838146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFcCpDjfblTHHt8q5qQw9sql02WTMV13ztClsmhrhBuBkP-zlaYKSuSpfsoXlMldI3E8DIvc6fgzSvxsiBniTGli9FPy9dlXq_7_ISoVI2WZBqEAJoScM2oJZXZJQYcmMHHfTeBeUMmQ/s1600-h/nathan3.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFcCpDjfblTHHt8q5qQw9sql02WTMV13ztClsmhrhBuBkP-zlaYKSuSpfsoXlMldI3E8DIvc6fgzSvxsiBniTGli9FPy9dlXq_7_ISoVI2WZBqEAJoScM2oJZXZJQYcmMHHfTeBeUMmQ/s320/nathan3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328044832569416066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px; " /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To read cards from day two click <a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/national-platform-day-two-19-april-2009.html">here</a>. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; font-size:14px;">The writers participating were Mary Kate Connolly, Rachel Lois Clapham, Alex Eisenberg, Eleanor Hadley Kershaw, Mary Paterson and Theron Schmidt.</span></div></span></span></span></span></span>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-34834325109748759202009-04-24T01:09:00.006+01:002009-05-04T13:03:50.816+01:00National Platform - Day Two - 19 April 2009<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:42px;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; ">National Theatre Studio</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">19 April 2009</span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:14px;"><br /></span></span></div></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3Af6QEkZyDhOHdZWk7Q9d-MfyZGW4SyrtW-1HTpmq6OYn9yfE9QaPzqWpYRK2oqX2IoT0pTsdNy1kuDZljWSexPYRvVEad6tQ17Ab0UoxcXITRZ2ZJJm9G5hRB28VOnxormQkHYSCr8/s1600-h/01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3Af6QEkZyDhOHdZWk7Q9d-MfyZGW4SyrtW-1HTpmq6OYn9yfE9QaPzqWpYRK2oqX2IoT0pTsdNy1kuDZljWSexPYRvVEad6tQ17Ab0UoxcXITRZ2ZJJm9G5hRB28VOnxormQkHYSCr8/s320/01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328186661805760354" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Over two days, the </span><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?pid=7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">SPILL National Platform</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> presented 20 performance works by emerging artists, selected from almost 300 applications. The works reflected an incredibly diverse range of forms and themes: durational and installation work, engagements with the conventions of theatre, interactive provocations, and autobiographical narrative.</span></span></p></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;font-size:42px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;font-size:50px;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As writers, we knew we would be unable to respond in detail to all of the work, but we also wanted to avoid imposing any selective criteria, even a random one, on which work was covered. We decided in advance of the Platform that we would impose a constraint on our responses. This would provide a structure for giving equal space to each of the performances and would make the most of our limited time. We decided that we would respond to each of the works, and we would limit our response to the space of a 3x5 index card.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We like the idea that each of the identical cards seems analogous to the opportunity offered to the emerging artists: a blank slot, to be filled individually, but unavoidably to be experienced side-by-side with the rest of the programme, as part of an assembly or collection of material.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Although for the most part we have prepared our cards after the event, there’s also something about this format that reflects the experience of writing: taking notes in the dark, collecting fragments and impressions and responses. Trying to capture not just the event on stage but our internal journeys. Thinking always, at every moment, even before the moment has finished, about how to translate into words the transient and complex experience.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">These cards are only scraps, only partial and inadequate records of the events of the weekend, but we hope something of the extraordinary and boundless diversity of work is reflected by these responses. Perhaps they can stand as the beginning of a discussion – please add your own comments below.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Arial; min-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Theron Schmidt</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Please </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">click</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> on each image to view larger.</span></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Note: You made need to zoom out/in using your browser to view the image in a suitable size.</span></i></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Victoria Pratt - Chasing Next Door's Cat</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Mary Paterson</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal 'Helvetica Neue'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></p></span></div></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0Xv1CoJY4qrS4ZMCaVInc0LUUkUkEhHkmUVV27Z7326iEqPaXsWoIOn-L-KezHbxoATzphEBNYExG8qYmNS7Xmdan6u-4Gq4j1OUii9Okow6N4dfFzLZuZeF58uhIlyKE-JBiOjUKAk/s1600-h/Victoria+Pratt.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0Xv1CoJY4qrS4ZMCaVInc0LUUkUkEhHkmUVV27Z7326iEqPaXsWoIOn-L-KezHbxoATzphEBNYExG8qYmNS7Xmdan6u-4Gq4j1OUii9Okow6N4dfFzLZuZeF58uhIlyKE-JBiOjUKAk/s320/Victoria+Pratt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038545355145858" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sohail Khan - <i>Stress Positioning</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Rachel Lois Clapham</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxWHqjG1FxkjqmvgmIbozb4e7QCIRC4LJHrYvLeuL1d3o8NmbDdP6OqtuoG4y1-6rkMAW_eqoF_ghBs26x1Y-PaFBraijfiOyfIOGSgHHPld-tcDIKeTTMm8nXrpPOX7GiLKrv7ZAlXo/s1600-h/Sohail+Khan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxWHqjG1FxkjqmvgmIbozb4e7QCIRC4LJHrYvLeuL1d3o8NmbDdP6OqtuoG4y1-6rkMAW_eqoF_ghBs26x1Y-PaFBraijfiOyfIOGSgHHPld-tcDIKeTTMm8nXrpPOX7GiLKrv7ZAlXo/s320/Sohail+Khan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038543065107842" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Simon Bowes - <i>Kings of England</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Alex Eisenberg</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNakj9XW0NEgVQmb3vgiXN8ReQr5v6qvb6tlO_aJMnFQyvV8pzhotS9BXK6OdxLrftBfCl24kUsRusKHO3fQNcGwVE0c2N2uabaJ-0CcuSGGWzd3MAIBDJKva7vkEEaWGg0k-W9_GWlw/s1600-h/Simon+Bowes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNakj9XW0NEgVQmb3vgiXN8ReQr5v6qvb6tlO_aJMnFQyvV8pzhotS9BXK6OdxLrftBfCl24kUsRusKHO3fQNcGwVE0c2N2uabaJ-0CcuSGGWzd3MAIBDJKva7vkEEaWGg0k-W9_GWlw/s320/Simon+Bowes.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038539902011650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex continues his response to this work </span><a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/alexs-response-to-national-platform_24.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">here.</span></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Silvia Rimat - <i>Being Here While Not Being Here</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Theron Schmidt</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqErVfeNPzdVYlP1G0izkgwBXKvUgvM0RK1mjUrvVzQ8qvyn5XJ7sj4zH1KJcvbV_P2K1Ns6j97ltnaUL4RBsGt3_ZcL9se8NYTS07xSopE9L1w-n_NvPZ-ecbh1BpxlLqxSLM93_KCNE/s1600-h/Silvia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqErVfeNPzdVYlP1G0izkgwBXKvUgvM0RK1mjUrvVzQ8qvyn5XJ7sj4zH1KJcvbV_P2K1Ns6j97ltnaUL4RBsGt3_ZcL9se8NYTS07xSopE9L1w-n_NvPZ-ecbh1BpxlLqxSLM93_KCNE/s320/Silvia.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038533987637554" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Rasp Thorne - <i>Blinded Descention</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Rachel Lois Clapham</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibvypgHa8mqN_0rFFvyhUl2Ee3MH1RrSk8OPQ6OpI7e04iqWMhpD8BfcDmU2RqhNGNVr1JdB7c43FudddueTIBhyQPMGM9r2Hqz8lezDrLWZng98ZALbqjs8RwEftfvMyZUp0x0Bj8oA/s1600-h/Rasp+Thorn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibvypgHa8mqN_0rFFvyhUl2Ee3MH1RrSk8OPQ6OpI7e04iqWMhpD8BfcDmU2RqhNGNVr1JdB7c43FudddueTIBhyQPMGM9r2Hqz8lezDrLWZng98ZALbqjs8RwEftfvMyZUp0x0Bj8oA/s320/Rasp+Thorn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038513766400546" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Nicola Conibere - <i>Count One</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Mary Paterson</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dIcllRySA_Jra4lswWpNzl9D5iazlRRTCraUCfBnKjUXOJBAynp6r9QbkCTttUYUJRM1od4fxDh_svA3A_MDeuAZCtIUjVhny-04Cy8lhSIG0VhUxU2RsMpkN_12MWmvz3-mSLzYg84/s1600-h/Nicola+Conibere.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dIcllRySA_Jra4lswWpNzl9D5iazlRRTCraUCfBnKjUXOJBAynp6r9QbkCTttUYUJRM1od4fxDh_svA3A_MDeuAZCtIUjVhny-04Cy8lhSIG0VhUxU2RsMpkN_12MWmvz3-mSLzYg84/s320/Nicola+Conibere.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328036519833060642" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Simone Kenyon and Neil Callaghan</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>To Begin Where I Am...Mokado</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Alex Eisenberg</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9JETXFrnI0Inw85R7Gvu8S73iaP1kFRxHtZKnmjom74O3fKkhAwloncRIs6aZVurzNtnJItCU6RZa6kx7vjlL8OdhWW4siahfVugvobCqRWpoGBM1UzyvmE6SnctaEcSWCaHg3il8WI/s1600-h/Neil+and+Simone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9JETXFrnI0Inw85R7Gvu8S73iaP1kFRxHtZKnmjom74O3fKkhAwloncRIs6aZVurzNtnJItCU6RZa6kx7vjlL8OdhWW4siahfVugvobCqRWpoGBM1UzyvmE6SnctaEcSWCaHg3il8WI/s320/Neil+and+Simone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328036516380206402" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex continues his response to this work <a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/alexs-response-to-national-platform_8701.html">here</a>.</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sara Popowa - <i>Stick Piece</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Eleanor Hadley Kershaw</span></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqDl4hAbwAWKW-GViPG_GYZyJRVoMWgJ6K1yO1FJdO-E169J99c4dlS9hwQsa0EmdYZfaApYiMJVk-T1H9ho7aTS8IllLqZ1dw8pfY0_X0Cqavm64cwAJ_dpR4S13hDX_gSvxtvSXM7w/s1600-h/National+Platform+-+Sara+Popowa+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqDl4hAbwAWKW-GViPG_GYZyJRVoMWgJ6K1yO1FJdO-E169J99c4dlS9hwQsa0EmdYZfaApYiMJVk-T1H9ho7aTS8IllLqZ1dw8pfY0_X0Cqavm64cwAJ_dpR4S13hDX_gSvxtvSXM7w/s320/National+Platform+-+Sara+Popowa+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328036472869677970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPySe7QWxXbRv2gxPLhXVs3iinqi66-NLwE8qCdWM_kQ_sr-0R8eViMWhm4IE6SUAJVSx5hHPny690C7xnUZyFf3R8dZqDJlYHn5FqF7jb9ACEvSqQb3buOxC3svhX9fbRj-hmHg_DjBM/s1600-h/National+Platform+-+Sara+Popowa+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPySe7QWxXbRv2gxPLhXVs3iinqi66-NLwE8qCdWM_kQ_sr-0R8eViMWhm4IE6SUAJVSx5hHPny690C7xnUZyFf3R8dZqDJlYHn5FqF7jb9ACEvSqQb3buOxC3svhX9fbRj-hmHg_DjBM/s320/National+Platform+-+Sara+Popowa+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328036474532321970" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Natasha Davis - <i>Rupture</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">b</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">M</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">r</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">e</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">r</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">n</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd49a0bVgmDQhAJxJBG72Q-kHjUHHTDGEQZ8uUEKVYVnNNlhCoVicdbGv3a1Pl-QMcT5nMWP5vxHUFHuZTZAXgKN3sRmvlEH7TD6TShtFHjXnciFDWuZQN82N7olkBNFJseQoSgb_gb4I/s1600-h/Natasha+Davis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd49a0bVgmDQhAJxJBG72Q-kHjUHHTDGEQZ8uUEKVYVnNNlhCoVicdbGv3a1Pl-QMcT5nMWP5vxHUFHuZTZAXgKN3sRmvlEH7TD6TShtFHjXnciFDWuZQN82N7olkBNFJseQoSgb_gb4I/s320/Natasha+Davis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328036450857700562" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:42px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Taylan Hallici - <i>Introduction to floodlondon</i></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by Mary Kate Connolly</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:14px;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFI2gA-ChdIxd4h1ideexd1f0ukhgRzoCS0YpWL0RnnKEbcL__x05dnviYpFgMqQHOomv8Y-RFXOJmbASWFXNvPHoZSJhTV7OuLKPTH3MlCnj7OTltY_9RJ0Ri8gFG_qxgSQPBxkWTZoQ/s1600-h/Tylan+1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFI2gA-ChdIxd4h1ideexd1f0ukhgRzoCS0YpWL0RnnKEbcL__x05dnviYpFgMqQHOomv8Y-RFXOJmbASWFXNvPHoZSJhTV7OuLKPTH3MlCnj7OTltY_9RJ0Ri8gFG_qxgSQPBxkWTZoQ/s320/Tylan+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328041132113059234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg5bMdx9KHc813HxCaViN_zcANSvVKjjfCOh0YVgYaANJXF3qi4LwPdtlbqIHntYzomHRbCCc9T_K2bT5RY11DhVOFqhcRsmIOGwpOeysvyiukHOVoX_X9mS-sJnPbuVZOAjawiPx-oE/s1600-h/tylan2.jpg"><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg5bMdx9KHc813HxCaViN_zcANSvVKjjfCOh0YVgYaANJXF3qi4LwPdtlbqIHntYzomHRbCCc9T_K2bT5RY11DhVOFqhcRsmIOGwpOeysvyiukHOVoX_X9mS-sJnPbuVZOAjawiPx-oE/s320/tylan2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328041129059741922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhmBknTdRTtq-VEOr_3vcZ1x26p23vAWd8cRR4eOaFyUFBsyeSjf32fmgICoLLstllDq41TSnJuqRxAvKdT2ijFL7REA9KmiQaZdpJ4G4NRhbq7qfeFBxC2_zTTLr8WKjhnazs8bdDxU/s1600-h/tylan3.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhmBknTdRTtq-VEOr_3vcZ1x26p23vAWd8cRR4eOaFyUFBsyeSjf32fmgICoLLstllDq41TSnJuqRxAvKdT2ijFL7REA9KmiQaZdpJ4G4NRhbq7qfeFBxC2_zTTLr8WKjhnazs8bdDxU/s320/tylan3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328041118738038130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Georgia; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Georgia">To read cards from day one click <a href="http://spilloverspill.blogspot.com/2009/04/national-platform-18th-april-2009.html">here</a>.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Georgia; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Georgia">The writers participating were Mary Kate Connolly, Rachel Lois Clapham, Alex Eisenberg, Eleanor Hadley Kershaw, Mary Paterson and Theron Schmidt.</p></span></span></div></span></div></div>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-65699619218270732562009-04-24T01:08:00.001+01:002010-09-02T10:23:00.033+01:00Alex's response to Mitch and Parry<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOtA7btgEeORktBVsrnYluaEAwpcQJEOo0N2sE-zYxoZaL6eik25dh5CimlQtItx4kSH32XjEC_E6vR-fnrBVQFtpWHrsgPeTyX8fAatAXlS0z_YeLZuR7mkS1dHzOtDFJ-zfctS8G0c/s1600-h/Mitch260.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOtA7btgEeORktBVsrnYluaEAwpcQJEOo0N2sE-zYxoZaL6eik25dh5CimlQtItx4kSH32XjEC_E6vR-fnrBVQFtpWHrsgPeTyX8fAatAXlS0z_YeLZuR7mkS1dHzOtDFJ-zfctS8G0c/s320/Mitch260.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328047048958596882" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Mitch and Parry (Andrew Mitchelson and Owen Parry)</span></span></b></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>I Host You, Now Tonight, Let Me Show You How</i></span></span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 1 - I Host You</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This catches me off guard…it’s in the foyer, the place we have become accustomed to waiting for performances to begin. First glance – a projected video is playing on the wall - two mouths are close together - you can’t tell the gender immediately but then the structure of the face and its hair follicles confirms this as two men, two boys. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They are very close and excreting saliva in tandem, together, letting it delicately drip out of their mouths and inextricably combine. The process has been slowed down, the video form allowing the shifting of time as I zoom into, perhaps, the most everyday, visible and public of the bodily fluids – spit - which is raised to the level of subject in this three part work. Spit - usually wiped away, expelled, or sometimes the cause for embarrassment, is presented to us here as curiously beautiful and as it is subjected to gravity, it falls between the mouths, off the screen, making a small pool (of water) on the floor below the projection - a trace of this intimate moment now intruding into the foyer, where we wait for the next performance to begin. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part 2 – Now Tonight</span></span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mitch and Parry are wearing white underpants and hoodies. There is something of (half naked) teenage youths about these men, boyish and cute – but their hoods are up and they seem to mean business. The situation is some sort of ‘face off’, but also, always teetering on the edge of an embrace, always trying to get close, as they stand with about a meter between them, eyeing each other up.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The first projectile spit: head being jerked forward to maximise distance and achieve a suitable trajectory and it does seem to be a blow, it has gone straight to the face and, being the first spit, there is ample saliva. This could get messy but what continues is a ‘spitting match’ where the rules are simple – I spit at you (give), you spit at me (receive) – we aim to spit at each other – we mostly go for exposed areas of skin. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Now Tonight</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, the act of </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">spitting at someone </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is removed from its usual place of insult by this game-like situation. I recall the earlier video remembering that I have already become accustomed to Mitch and Parry’s notion of saliva as a substance that has more potential than might at first be apparent – as a substance that, in its own paradoxical way, builds human relations. I am, however, distracted from musing by the reality of events, by what I am witnessing.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I can’t help thinking about what it feels like to be spat at, and in the face. And so, I think about whether I have ever been spat at (…no) and then I think about other things that might have been projected onto my face by someone else (…yes), and how that feels. This spitting then, momentarily becomes eroticized: spit = cum = piss = shit. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Head being jerked forward to maximise distance and achieve a suitable trajectory and, yes, it does seem to be a blow, it has gone straight to the face. There is no talking; here, connection is only via the act of spitting as the saliva becomes some sort of visible and material utterance, showing and leaving traces of communication – attempts to reach out to each other. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I begin to feel a certain weight that comes with duration, repetition and exhaustion of the body and as the event continues relentlessly, I become conscious of how it must feel to expel and receive such unusually large quantities of saliva. This unsettles, but also allows me a further investment in the individuals playing the game. There is both a confusion of repulsion and intrigue as the smell of drying saliva occasionally wafts across the room. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The minimal soundscape of this work is made up of the spitting noises from the ‘giver’ and noises sometimes let out by the ‘receiver’ as the spit lands on his face. However I can’t quite tell whether these are sounds of pain or pleasure, and it is within the territory of doubt that this work places itself – so that you can’t quite tell if it’s a fight or foreplay, whether you win or loose, if they are gay or straight, whether it’s love or hate. And in this hazy territory - this in between - we constantly, though subtly, negotiate the performance, witnessing this act played out, until at the end, and eventually, a resolution comes with a hug, and they leave the stage. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Part Three – Performance - Let Me Show You How</span></span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b></b><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The last part of Mitch and Parry’s performance, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Let Me Show You How</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, continues to push the instability invoked through their use of saliva/spit/spitting. Parry, still dressed in his hoodie and underpants holds Mitch who is naked, vulnerable and boyish. Parry’s hold is loving, caring and tender and Mitch’s naked (almost dead) body is surrendered to this. The two look like a Pietà. Of course, the religious image is undone - by these men, by these boys, by the spectators and, of course, by this spit. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">However, whereas before we had witnessed only the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">expulsion</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> of saliva from the body, here the process has a further stage.</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In part three</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the act of spitting becomes allied to that of </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">rubbing in</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. As Parry spits gently onto Mitch’s smooth skin and rubs in his saliva it is, of course, absorbed into the body. This is an intrusion in proportion to spit’s banal status. It is also another gesture of exchange, another inextricable act of combination. And with this exchange comes the more functional gesture – ‘cleaning up’. But this is a ‘cleaning up’ with spit, a paradoxical purification process.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A live video feed of the event is simultaneously shown on a large screen at the back of the stage, as a lone and passive cameraman moves around, zooming in and out, suggests to us other angles from which to view the landscape of these bodies. Sometimes I can’t relate the two images (live and video) as I see seemingly abstracted human forms on the screen and sometimes, brightly lit, the image invokes the language and voyeurism of pornography. This negotiation between the live and mediatised, challenges our act of watching; it suggests and demonstrates the possibility for re-framing, a theme to which all three parts of the work have insistently alluded. It is also in this state of in-between that I find some room for myself as a spectator. There are no seats in this performance, I can wander through at my own pace. And so, I begin slowly to pull into focus the previous events, to build my own narrative of the time and by doing so become implicated in the making of the work. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In all three works Owen Parry and Andrew Mitchelson make attempts at intimacy, and spitting always comes between them and between us, resisting any straightforward relationship to this work. This intimacy is, however, always devoid of any explicit or erotic actions and instead, we are presented with banality - re-made, re-placed and as it is, this work begins to share with us a new logic of human exchange. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:42px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:Trebuchet;"></span></p><div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival. </span></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="clear: both; "></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="margin-top: 0.75em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 102, 204); text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; font: normal normal normal 78%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4em; "></div><p></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-71911684604746064352009-04-24T01:06:00.002+01:002010-09-02T10:23:07.663+01:00Alex's response to the National Platform - Neil Callaghan and Simone Kenyon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mch7ANx77NW9mPy4gMqA-hrxbbW9UAAwrv2NJpPbFpugOCRBFf_dfEoGBLk-PI7EXQF8WyrEelUvTG_VAi0OtZxilB0HEQTWs0u6L-5OhZvpJHsJETiHl_oE0aOxbVCXUpatUfO7PCw/s1600-h/123755671763.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mch7ANx77NW9mPy4gMqA-hrxbbW9UAAwrv2NJpPbFpugOCRBFf_dfEoGBLk-PI7EXQF8WyrEelUvTG_VAi0OtZxilB0HEQTWs0u6L-5OhZvpJHsJETiHl_oE0aOxbVCXUpatUfO7PCw/s320/123755671763.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328190489600275762" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Simone Kenyon and Neil Kenyon - To Begin Where I Am…</span></span></b></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">19 April 2009</span></b></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><b></b><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Neil dials a number on his phone and amplifies it so we can all hear – it's Simone and it's great to hear from her, less because I know her (I don’t know her) but more because it is apparent that this phone call is live, happening now. She tells us she is about 30 seconds away and as the noise of the street begins to give way to more echoic tones, footsteps and then the sound of running – Simone bursts through the entrance to the studio at an electrifying pace. Attempting to foreground her new presence in the room, she jumps into Neil’s arms, displaying herself to us like a gymnast. Though, just as quickly – Neil disappears…and…it’s all a bit of a confusion – it felt like Neil should have stayed? But it's hard for them (perhaps for all of us) to be in the same place let alone the same time. And this performance becomes an attempt at demonstrating this difficulty in a variety of ways, from the delicate to the explosive.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A connection is played out along a blue cord which is threaded through Simone’s ear and which she uses to try to get Neil closer – he is back now and I feel pleased – I want them to be together, it feels more complete for all of us this way. The blue cord, which Simone breaks once Neil is close (how close is close?), is a way of creating and showing a relationship over distance, making distance intimate, a small victory perhaps? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As the two of them, wearing swimming costumes and life jackets, attempt to hold their breath and keep count of these durations, we witness another struggle and the impossibility of being in the same time. Neil can hold his breath longer than Simone. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A series of repeated actions, a dance reminiscent of Goat Island; these things seem somehow to lead us through to a moment where breathing is not distanced by time but instead through a two-sided harmonica, a more material thing, as they ask again, ‘what are the boundaries that come between us?’. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This work consciously places incongruous elements next to each other, so we can’t quite know, or we can’t quite say. Perhaps, we are left instead to find our own way through, to find out what is between ‘us’ (spectators) and ‘them’ (performers)? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Neil is leaving once again, but, like Simone before him, he is with us on the phone – telling us what is between him and us – and there’s a lot. He is in the city, Waterloo Station and it’s full of intrusions into and onto what was once a natural landscape. Perhaps therefore, their crude attempt at creating a storm (a natural force, a natural disaster even) with silver foil and a drum, is a reaction to the separation with which we are constantly faced, particularly now, when digital and virtual architectures give illusions of intimacy. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Faced with too large an expanse, Neil and Simone don’t give up – they keep trying, the storm </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> coming, they keep having a go and they do this stuff together no matter what it is and no matter what is in-between them. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></p> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Alex Eisenberg is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival. </span></span></div>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-15859208062898859052009-04-24T01:05:00.007+01:002010-09-02T10:23:14.118+01:00Alex's response to the National Platform - Simon Bowes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIIDsT9Uji8KreiYH0OgYYq5GQNrLEcEKeudWRxPgsmfTv3EFLcV7tEszaJlsTcfxY7iz0s9u_9T_6bZTtcObuYvUMEYQ1zvFR0I_1sSOgPkUd27_VdCbR9eSnBP1QBHbT3bE52jb3ak/s1600-h/Bowes260.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIIDsT9Uji8KreiYH0OgYYq5GQNrLEcEKeudWRxPgsmfTv3EFLcV7tEszaJlsTcfxY7iz0s9u_9T_6bZTtcObuYvUMEYQ1zvFR0I_1sSOgPkUd27_VdCbR9eSnBP1QBHbT3bE52jb3ak/s200/Bowes260.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328048201862720370" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Simon Bowes - Kings of England</span></span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b></b><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is a family affair and we are welcomed into the fold. Simon, his mum and his dad are dressed smartly for the occasion. This work attempts to explore time, gaps – the time between what dad was like then and what he is like now. There is, of course already a time gap apparent (it’s always present) and which is illustrated in Simon’s take on a suit and his father’s rather more immaculate or ‘stylish’ presentation, which evokes a past era. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Simon is clearly proud of his dad. He vocalises this in front of him and with us by way of various images from the past, projected using an overhead projector and operated by his father’s wife, he shares snapshots, a family album. And there’s this one that predominates – his father jumping off a cliff – black and white, suspended in mid-air, suspended in time. It is an image full of potential and in the context of this performance it asks: what might happen in a life? </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Simon narrates this life from behind a stand and the lecture is broken up by short ‘scenes’ from the past, recreated for us in the present. The gap between then and now is emphasised by the impossibility of going back, of how you just can’t know then. At times this is light hearted, funny and celebratory, at others - particularly moments of trauma - I am brought into contact with thoughts about my own family, about life, love and death. There are moments where Simon chooses to imagine the past, placing his own view of the world back in time, confusing it, almost an attempt at changing what happened and there is an optimism in all of this. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is a family that works together, although as a work it is undeniably presented to us as Simon’s view of things. There is a certain passivity of his father and more so of his mother. At one poignant moment she dances with her husband – and Simon proudly watches, drinking wine - but for this most part his mother appears to remain in the sidelines, in the shadows and I wonder how the particular politics of patriarchy and traditional family, to which this work points, might have been given more attention in this performance? Age, generation and tradition are central concerns of this work and were also brought into perspective in a wider sense, since it was the 9</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> performance in a day dominated by young artists’ work. There is, therefore, something hopeful about bringing older people, parents, into this forum, about the possibilities of age and about the future. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Alex Eisenberg is an artist making performance. He is helping to coordinate SPILL: Overspill over the course of the festival. </span></span></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-22124359412035158612009-04-24T01:05:00.000+01:002009-04-24T10:18:35.058+01:00Alex's response to the National Platform - Neil Trefor Hughes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphZTiIu_4uk_KxXNZgIWVYF_hNq-c120aF_GOpJPhjrw3WzcifuBwW-pCc-s1lrsoc2LUn5VPQNZ4DfzgnWl5yBZ8XllgTxja2aURX3IcgX2T8Q7Ae3mChObn8XM2rjR8pBmXcGuD-H0/s1600-h/Hughes26.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphZTiIu_4uk_KxXNZgIWVYF_hNq-c120aF_GOpJPhjrw3WzcifuBwW-pCc-s1lrsoc2LUn5VPQNZ4DfzgnWl5yBZ8XllgTxja2aURX3IcgX2T8Q7Ae3mChObn8XM2rjR8pBmXcGuD-H0/s200/Hughes26.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328046486117446226" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Neil Trefor Hughes – Minimalist Music for Young People</span></span></b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The mosquito – a small insect that makes you itch but also, the Mosquito - this other more technological thing, parasitic but in an entirely different and unnatural way - a device which omits a high frequency noise only audible to young people so as to deter them from loitering (or playing). </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I ask to the person sitting next to me – ‘can you hear it?’</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We don’t see Neil’s face in this performance, he is dressed head to toe in a dark grey (almost skin tight) costume which, in all its beautiful crudeness represents the mosquito. Obscured and out of sight, he talks to us as part terrorist, part entertainer, part mosquito, part Neil, invoking moments of celebration as he attempts to </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">make good the mosquito</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. The humour of this work is complemented by Neil’s Welsh accent and his casual performance mode lays the foundations for a certain silliness and acceptance of the lo-fi aesthetic which runs throughout: disco lights that respond to noises, a foot operated smoke machine, a dodgy music stand and helium balloons which (just about) make his voice a bit more high pitched. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">He is delivering a speech to us from behind a lectern and it’s a generous gesture, reclaiming this high pitch noise which we cannot hear and has echo’s of John Cage’s 4’33, but also reclaiming the status of being ‘a youth’ (in Wales) – not parasites, not pests, not invisible but instead, a look to the future?</span></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-47850158354512791212009-04-23T20:23:00.001+01:002009-04-23T20:24:58.006+01:00PLEASE DRESS IN BLACK BEFORE READING THIS POST by David Berridge<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=18">Aftermaths: A Tear in the Meat of Vision</a></b></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Laban Theatre, </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">13-14 and 17-18 April.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This performance began before it began, which felt appropriate for a show beginning with the end. The end, that is, as something you have to dress up for, with Bardsley encountered first via video screen, putting on a wig, false teeth, make up; or the end as words on four large screens that say The End, which, like many of the individual components of this show, are also invocations, more force fields than straightforward linguistic signifiers, conjuring this post- pre- world into existence. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Start again. In the beginning - and before the beginning that was the end - was the festival website. This fulfilled more than the usual functions. It invited the audience to dress entirely in black (which maybe 25 of the 30 or so people had followed on the night I went) and to bring a small black object no bigger than 4cm in diameter with which they wished to part. These instructions create a sense of expectation, a demand that in attending the show we are expected to take on some measure of responsibility, whatever that might mean. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All of which had a contradictory relation to what I actually experienced. In the backstage space of the Laban centre, a catwalk formed the shape of a cross, whilst four high video screens surrounded the audience to create an arena within which a confrontation could take place. Dressed in black, gold teeth, using crutches, Bardsley struggled up onto the cat walk - shaman, priest, salesman and figure of death, trailing behind her a flotilla of black balloons. Slowly, she lost her physical disabilities, shedding the crutches to become a skilled vocal-physical athlete of this church of death and rhetoric. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What follows in the hour long performance could be seen as distinct sections, each composed of a particular configuration of Bardsley’s intense persona, the haunting pulse-led electro-acoustic soundtrack, and the video projections. So one section involves Bardsley citing a litany of words that also appears near simultaneously on the four screens, marking out a territory in which theories of apocalypse, religion and the current economic situation are all connected. Phrases such as “Black Market” link these areas via playful punning. The speaking and visual manifesting of “Profit” and “Prophet” seem a key into the piece, creating a gap between word and sound the show often inhabits. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Other sections involve Bardsley’s body being covered in what looked like dayglo kneepads, which Bardsley thrusts at various audience members asking them to “feel her disease” (she gets angry if no one lays a hand on them, her voice barking them into cooperation). Or she opens a suitcase containing black paper airoplanes, whose airy lightness becomes like bones or teeth. Or she holds a swinging hypnotist’s pendulum in front of selected audience members, but seems more to induce palpitations in herself. Are the audience, themselves appearing at moments on the screens, just projections of her imagination? A ghostly negative image of T</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he Book of Revelations</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> seems to offer some and no answers.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve jumbled up all the different sections here, partly because that’s how the piece has stayed in my mind. I was also struck, in discussions with Bardsley, about her method which involves a gathering of various elements, placing them in a visual paper score, and only in the last few days before a performance rehearsing in any conventional sense, to physically enact, choreograph and develop the show. So the actual performance is a place of working out how different elements will work, testing them, changing them as the show develops and in relationship to different audiences. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This explains the questing tone of the piece, and also the dialectical relation to the instructions and descriptions on the web site. For all the force and theatricality of Bardsley’s performance, I didn’t, for example, find it immersive and overwhelming. Or, rather, the elements of the show that overwhelmed - Bardsley’s extended vocal techniques, say, or the sense of the importance of the audience’s presence - were balanced with a Brechtian distance and alienation, that also juxtaposed archaic and contemporary, genders and voices. The carnival barker aspects of Bardsley’s persona, too, invites a reading based on more old fashioned notions of theatricality, showmanship, and circus. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This replacement of immersion with a more removed criticality was evident, too, in the working through of those invitations to the audience. Personally, the wearing of black primarily highlighted the act of preparing for and traveling to the show, not to mention the slightly more than usual black-clad crowd in the foyer beforehand. Whilst waiting I was handed a small plastic bag for my black object. I got to place it into an usher’s hat shortly after the performance began, and it appeared on a board in the foyer. As forms of participation, both seemed to widen and diversify the web of ideas, rather than enhance a sense of ritual immersion during the performance itself.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finally, the performance offers us a fashion show of dis-ease as four figures climb up onto the stage to parade before us, evoking the four horseman of the apocalypse. One is pregnant, a breathing pipe between swollen belly and bandaged mouth; another a body sprouting black grapes. All, in various ways, wrapped, mutated, not so much clothed as fabric-cyborgs, flesh re-invented in the image of the preceding performance’s words and gestures.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When they hobble off, the performance ends and the plagues take their place in an installation of surreal and fetishistic furniture, where they stand or sit for us to stare at on our way out. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bardsley is outside in the foyer, too, urging us to pledge £66.06 to buy the board to which all our black objects have been affixed. No one had, and I suspect no one ever does, but Bardsley was still audible as I headed down the Laban ramp, an incongruous element amongst Laban’s Herzog and de Meuron designed interiors, still offering a beginning after the end, or an end that was a beginning, or both, or none. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 10.0px Georgia; min-height: 11.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color: #000099"><span style="color: #000000"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">David Berridge writes and edits the blogzine </span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">More Milk Yvette: A Journal of the Broken Screen</span></span><span style="color: #000000"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span><a href="mailto:moremilkyvette@gmail.com"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">moremilkyvette@gmail.com</span></span></a></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-39244556933424982042009-04-23T20:20:00.002+01:002009-04-23T20:26:39.500+01:00On being with her by Theron Schmidt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qApW0sPk_qh5dd9Y_uTxc2ZhzwmQAkle08_sSLFK55f2stDK-Yd3O5MvOl4qhSLdbMZ__2F8D6B3OXoNO54ZscQYCLtQm0psIjKyQhlbwmNMjnLSrZPqQkWPMBKcRK5xr26nySrzxxk/s1600-h/123202267715.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qApW0sPk_qh5dd9Y_uTxc2ZhzwmQAkle08_sSLFK55f2stDK-Yd3O5MvOl4qhSLdbMZ__2F8D6B3OXoNO54ZscQYCLtQm0psIjKyQhlbwmNMjnLSrZPqQkWPMBKcRK5xr26nySrzxxk/s400/123202267715.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327970444206741890" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; "></span></a><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b>Vanessa: Look mummy, I’m dancing</b></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Soho Theatre</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">15 April 2009</span></p></span><p></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">She’s not like other women. She watches a man hassle and belittle his female partner in the supermarket checkout, and, so she tells us, she wonders whether she made the right choice. She’s not like other women, born anatomically male, but, so she tells us, convinced from her first breath that something was not right. She’s not like the others, who never had to be ostracised, pathologised, diagnosed condescendingly with gender identity disorder. She’s not like the rest, for whom easy remedies are available and unremarkable for their body issues: a little nose job here, a little liposuction there. She’s not like the others, because she was one of the first.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is Vanessa’s story, of how she always identified herself as a woman and eventually became the first transsexual in Belgium. But what’s surprising in Vanessa’s story is how familiar it all seems. Her story rests on a series of scenes that feel commonplace, almost shorthand, like little photo-postcard moments. The boy who is not like the other boys. The mother who worries about whether she wished too hard for a girl. The father who wants his boy to play football. The goodbye to the first lover at a train station, crowded with homeward bound soldiers. The angelic Moroccan nurse who comforts her after the surgery.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Even at its most moving, there’s something almost self-consciously emblematic about her story. The scene where she tells her mother that no, she’s not acting anymore – she’s dancing, and the awful pathos of her mother’s realisation that ‘dancing’ is a euphemism. The scene of reconciliation, when her supposedly uncompassionate father asks her to come close, for he ‘has another daughter now.’ These are moving, heartfelt moments, moments you would want in a good screenplay, or a season finale. They are truthful moments of vulnerability and compassion – but, in a story about a life that is so unconventional, it is striking how much they are </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">conventionally</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> so.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The whole piece has this easy, light-hearted attitude toward theatre. In contrast with the rest of the festival, this is not an occasion for provocation or experimentation. It’s a tidy story that would disturb no one, that is told conversationally but that is also obviously a carefully prepared script, one that is filled with pathos and bathos and ends happily with marriage.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Without wanting to assume too much from her story, perhaps her complicated life has left her particularly attracted to these uncomplicated moments. What others might take for granted – the obvious and familiar of the everyday – may not have been common, easy, or obvious to her. Perhaps this story is an expression of a desire for this clarity, for an unproblematic match between how things seem and how they are. Or maybe she has been aware of the singularity of her life all along, has lived it as a biopic in the making, selecting scenes as she lives through them. I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s been like to be her, despite having heard her life story. How could I?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But the story she tells is only part of the experience. It’s one reason I’m here, in order to hear her story, but I’ve also come in order to see her. She’s come to tell her story, but she’s also come to show. To appear before us. To appear before us in this body that she has made for herself, and to speak in the voice that she has claimed as her own against significant obstacles. And it’s a remarkable body, with something liquid and changeable about it. Tears always just behind her eyes, and a softness in the back of her throat. She leans and sways across the stage, holding each of us in her eyes, and being held herself in ours. Look mummy, I’m dancing. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">When Vanessa impersonates her mother, it is clear that something of her mother lives inside her, and when she impersonates her father, it is also clear that her body has both woman and man and inside it. Being in my body, being together with other bodies, as we watch her, I have a sense of the collective body. Not just as an aggregate of us to which we each contribute our individuality, but in the sense of a collection, a gathering of parts and pieces and histories that each of us claim but that none of us really own. How my body is both mine, but also the vessel through which my culture acts upon me. How the way that each of us holds our body is partly determined by the collective hold over us, and the way that the common’s hold over us is through our bodies, through our bodies on display, through the way we must appear to each other. The theatre: the seeing place, the space of appearance.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And then the part of the experience that consists of her telling a story comes to an end, and what’s left is just us being in the room together. The proximity of our bodies, the crossing of our gazes, our being in common. We are clapping for each other now. And this is a moment of pure acknowledgement, a moment of affirmation which goes both ways, and I find myself to have become liquid too, spilling over with emotion. Engaged in this nonsense gesture, clapping clumsy hands against each other, as a pretence to prolong the moment, to permit this last look at each other before we return, again, to the conventions and dramas of everyday life.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times New Roman; color:#0000ff;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Theron is a writer and performer. </span></span><a href="http://www.newworknetwork.org.uk/theron"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">http://www.newworknetwork.org.uk/theron</span></span></span></a></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2231039611257993133.post-61350827419093778062009-04-23T20:10:00.002+01:002009-04-29T14:02:56.034+01:00That Night Follows Day: Uncertain Pedagogies Out of Performance by David Berridge<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; "><a href="http://www.spillfestival.com/index.php?plid=5" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That Night Follows Day</span></a></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Trebuchet; line-height: 19px; "><p style="margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">by Victoria and Tim Etchells</span></span></p></span><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Queen Elizabeth Hall, Southbank Centre</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of the slightly perturbing elements of Victoria’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That Night Follows Day</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is its similarities to a Forced Entertainment show. Perhaps normally that wouldn’t matter. We’d accept a certain stylistic similarity - in the ensemble playing style, the use of text, and the performers’ frank audience facing demeanor - via Tim Etchells (artistic director of Forced Entertainment and writer of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That Night Follows Day</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">). But, as far as </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That Night Follows Day</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is concerned, I am drawn to ask questions about this stylistic similarity because Etchells’ collaborators are all aged between 8 and 14. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This creates a curious doubleness in a show as aware of its constructed and artificial qualities as any ‘grown up’ Forced Entertainment piece. It plays with its fiction and its reality both, with a script not adverse to examining its own premises even as it seems to function as a child to adult telling-it-how-it-is. On the night I saw the show, I felt as if the audience responded more to this second function, with parents audibly chuckling at some revelation of adult behaviour because “I also said (or did) that.” Such audience responses confirmed the script as truth-telling, ignoring or absorbing its self-critical aspects. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lurking behind all this is the theme of agency, and how much the children are active, empowered explorers of their own lives, and how much they are props in a theatrical work-out. Let’s assume the former (ignoring such complications as how the show was originally performed by a completely different set of children). Then, the connections to Force Entertainment become not a matter of Etchells’ own stylistic influences, but a broader proposition: a certain style of devised, collaborative theatre is not just a way of theatre making, it is a form of radical pedagogy.</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is not, of course, an insight I am deriving from this piece alone. The sense that the techniques and practices of performance art overlap with radical educational theorists such as Paulo Friere and Ivan Illich has been proposed by theorists including Charles Garoian and Yvonne M. Gaudelius, who then look to apply such techniques in the classroom. Their arguments take different forms, but I will focus here on their entwined use of performance and collage, because these terms seem particularly relevant to how the text of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That Night Follows Day</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is functioning: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Collage enables us to experience everyday life in such a way that its disparate and idiosyncratic fragments resist coalescing into a unifying whole... Instead of a totalizing body of knowledge, the composition of collage consists of a heterogeneous field of coexisting and contesting images and ideas. Its cognitive dissociation provides the perspectival multiplicity necessary for critical engagement. Dialectical tension occurs within the silent, in-between spaces of collage as its fragments, its signifying images and ideas interact and oppose one another. Such complexity and contradiction represent the substance of creative cognition and cultural transformation”. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Part of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That Night Follows Day’</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">s strangeness is how the children’s “disparate and idiosyncratic fragments” - the litany of sentences beginning “You tell us...” - become unified by a monolithic, sentimental sense of childhood.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For example, the elements that are most evocative of Forced Entertainment - the use and style of text; the frank, audience facing demeanor - become containers that these child performers can fill, like a constraint or restriction. This frame makes several things possible: it negotiates between the children’s “authenticity” and the demands of a professional performance at the Queen Elizabeth Hall (and elsewhere around the world where the show has toured). It also attempts to enable the sentiment prompted by a group of children onstage to be countered with a distanced, critical and question-raising nonchalance.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But it is impossible to tell from the performance itself whether what we are seeing is the children’s agency or their manipulation by Etchells and Victoria. In such a space of uncertainty, the adaptation of Forced Entertainment’s techniques becomes ventriloquism. Only the children themselves, in their lives beyond the performance itself, know which is which. To think otherwise is to add a nostalgia of performance to a nostalgia of childhood. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SOURCE</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Charles R.Garoian and Yvonne M. Gaudelius, Spectacle Pedagogy: Art, Politics and Visual Culture (State University of New York Press, Albany, 2008), 63-4. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; color: #000099"><span style="color: #000000"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">David Berridge writes and edits the blogzine </span><a href="%22http://www.moremi"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">More Milk Yvette: A Journal of the Broken Screen</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span><a href="mailto:moremilkyvette@gmail.com"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">moremilkyvette@gmail.com</span></span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 15.0px; font: 14.0px Georgia; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p>Abouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08109994359846906394noreply@blogger.com0