The Actor's Primary Job: Playing the Emotional Scales: Blog 24

A very good morning!

As I passed the door to the rehearsal studio yesterday where Natalie is rehearsing Crossing Over with good old Arc stalwarts - Jordan, TJ and Letitia, I could hear roars of hysterical laughter. I must admit to having felt just a little jealous. I knew they were in 'that' space, I recognise the energy seeping through the door. They were working hard because I could hear the fun. They are working on a very funny script by Clifford Oliver, that regularly leaves actors in rehearsal collapsed on the floor heaving with laughter at their own creation, often tears running down their faces.  Of course its not only tears of laughter that erupt sometimes in the rehearsal room during the making of a piece. Depending on the play there may be tears of grief or frustration. And there may be no tears.

In any event this is the mysterious job an actor must do when creating a character and the complex web of relationships dictated by the script and facilitated by the director.

In blog 22 I talked about the creation of a 'home' for the character, which is one of a range of starting point exercises I employ. If it works as it should, it will begin to locate glimpses of the emotional territory under investigation. In reflecting on the exercise actors will begin to articulate the emotional suite they intuit for their character. These have generally arisen from a mix of pre-rehearsal thoughts on text and character and the stimulus provided by the Home exercise. In any event the core emotions will be accessed from the only place they can be, the actor's own biography and experience. The circumstances of their character in the narrative may be entirely unknown to them, but with a little internal excavation coupled with imagination they will usually access them quite quickly. There will inevitably be nuance, and a need to approximate through personal emotional reference but they will have uncovered the territory for further exploration.

As well as meaning and interpretation of text getting to grips with the emotional landscape of a character is a primary task for the actor. I think of it as a little like how a musician must come to understand the workings, sound and tone of her instrument in order to fully express a piece of music. The actor's instrument is their body, imagination and emotions. They too must have access to the full range of its possibilities technically, physically and emotionally.

When I first started working as an actor, a director told me that a practical way to think about finding and expressing emotion in a play was to consider it as E - motion, namely energy in motion. This has always been a guiding principle in my work, and allows me to work with actors to access deep emotion without straying into too much biographical detail or moving into therapy! Energy along with skill determines the flow of all performance regardless of style or genre. So 'energy in motion' can be focused and directed. This means its possible in any given moment to shift from one emotion to another with ease. 

In our own everyday lives with real things happening to effect how we feel, it might often be that we experience being stuck in an emotional state, that however hard we try we might feel is impossible to shift. Our own personal dramas are much tougher to control. And this is where our lives and our task as emotional archaeologists veer in different directions. In a one hour play, our character is likely to shift to a number of emotional spaces. It would be deeply unhelpful to a piece if the actor accessed sadness in the opening scene and got stuck there for the rest of the play if he needed to be in a place of joy by the end! 

And this is where emotional training and technique are paramount for the actor and should start as early as possible. Its one of those things that people often argue about, wondering if its something you can just do or if it can also be taught. My take on it is that much of it can be taught in training. If you have ever experienced love, sadness, grief, anger, fear, shame, loneliness or joy the chances are you have the basic tools! That with a core talent to express, empathise and imagine coupled with good technical training and self discipline are pretty much what you need. 

I believe its a mistake to think that you have to be awash in a deeply associated real emotion in a performance. People often misinterpret the work of the master director Stanislavsky to mean you have to 'become' the character in order to express it. This interpretation of his fine works on acting have led to offshoot schools that might be loosely described as 'method' acting which often seen to me seriously miss the point and in any event are based on a fundamental lie. You can't actually be someone else, however associated you have become physically and emotionally with character and to whatever ends you have gone to live it. There is always the 'you' in there as editor and manager, without which control you would be in danger of moving into madness! The whole thing is about artifice, the audience understand that and then it makes it possible to suspend their disbelief and judge the quality of the emotional truth presented on the basis of authenticity, accuracy and skill. 

A very simple exercise I came up with a long time ago to support the development of emotional technique and the skill to shift emotional state at will is  I love you, I want you, I hate you.

Its a simple exercise and is also quite a lot of fun! Have a go.

Director's Suggested Exercise of the Day


I love you, I want you, I hate you.

Working in pairs, choose someone you know least well as person A and person B. Person A goes to the far end of the studio and sits down facing the wall. Person B goes to the opposite end of the studio and stands facing person A's back. Person B is tasked with deciding on which of the three emotions they want to take to person A. They stand with that intention for 30 seconds and when they are ready they walk to where Person A is sitting and they sit down with no words or sounds and place their back against the other with their intention. Person A must then use all their sensory acuity to decide which emotion they have been brought. The choice of emotions can of course be different, however I tend to stick to these three because they can be tougher to distinguish. Person A may know instantly and get it right or hover for moment and get it wrong or simply guess. This exercise is about developing physical sensory receptivity, and not about winning. The exercise is then repeated a further 5 times by person A and then the roles are reversed. In discussion afterwards the director encourages reflection on what went on, how people read each other, what clues helped them to know which emotion it was etc; Look at breath, sound, temperature, speed, tension etc as ways of encouraging this reflection.

XPES5G2DYRCR 

Whitechapel Gallery: Gerard Byrne: A state of neutral pleasure 17 January - 8 March 2013 : Blog 23

Morning

I just love serendipity. Decided to have a day off with my eldest daughter Grace yesterday, lunch, moseying around Whitechapel Gallery and a trip to an art supplier to pick up a portfolio for her foundation art course at the City Lit.

The choice of gallery was Grace's. I haven't been there for ages. Its nestled alongside cost cutters and a mobile phone shop, right next to Aldgate East tube. Its light, airy, welcoming and free!

The Gerard Byrne: A state of neutral pleasure exhibition opened a couple of weeks ago. 'The artist is renowned for his films installations which re-enact conversations from specific historic moments. His work explores the way we understand the present through revisiting the past. For this exhibition, Byrne's investigations range from the politics around sexuality to the the production and display of the art object. Premiering in the UK, A Man and a Woman make love (2012) This multi-screen installation reinterprets discussions about sexuality and eroticism held in the 1920s by the Surrealist group of artists and writers, including Andre Breton, Jacques Prevert and Yves Tanguy.' (From Gallery brochure)

We watched Man the first of the films, which last about 40 minutes. The gallery is set with 6 large screens propped up against each other, and at any given time up to three or four have projected film. The beauty is the dynamic which draws the eye simultaneously to different points of view as the dialogue plays out. So at one moment you are looking at one of the characters, and then at the back of the cameraman, from a wide shot to a close up on different screens. Its a brilliant use of the medium, and the experience is theatrical as you choose your view. Set in the 1920'a, the artist removes any sense of filmic absorption by reminding us always that we are on a film set. You can look over the shoulder of the cameraman and see the storyboard pinned to his camera and then in the next moment be drawn to the lips of an actor.

The conversation is funny, erotic and at times crude as these early Surrealists are played out by a group of actors. Its a mix of earthy references to sex and philosophical exchanges about the nature of soul, love and personal preference. The emphasis and direction of the conversation centres on the feelings, attitudes and behaviours towards women which move from idealisation of the goddess to an honest appreciation of the street walker. The nature of the conversation  has a certain artifice about it, and the form enables the viewer to travel between perspectives.

=

Gerard Byrne: A Thing Is a Hole in a Thing It Is Not

Its theatre. You stand or pick up your little stool and move between screens, sometimes able to view three at a time. Its exquisite.

Inevitably part of the personal experience and referencing for me was in relation to my own practice. The form of this piece provoked new thoughts and ideas for me in relation to the use of film in live performance. Its a well established thing, often used in theatre. And I am curious about how we might experiment with it in the new work we are currently developing in an entirely other genre. 

The vitally central visual decision making process when making a new show is driven by the engagement of imagination of the director and designer working together informed by the text and genre. Its the juxtaposition of these different art forms that come together in theatre,  sometimes along with other disciplines such as dance and music composition. Where there is a genuine conversation between artists from these different disciplines lies the new, woven together in whatever shape it might manifest.

I have always found a starting point in new imagining to be the placing of two seemingly different objects, sounds or text side by side. The apparent randomness forces the imagination to forge a connection which makes a new sense, bigger usually than the two or more different elements. For example put a large ceramic jug in the middle of the studio next to an Ipod and play Faure's requiem at the same time, and suddenly the whole relationship takes on a new imagined narrative which resonates and is saturated with possibility.

So more food for the thought........ 

If you haven't been to the Whitechapel Gallery I urge you to have a visit and this installation is worth it alone.

Have a great day.

In the Rehearsal Space, the Character finds their Home: Blog 22

Good morning.

The last two blogs have been about what goes on in the rehearsal space, and today is a natural progression from this. 

Having spent the first day of rehearsals gathering our team and finding the beginning of a common language, day two is usually an exploration of text and character on your feet. 

One of the first things I will focus on, depending on the nature of the piece and its immediate imperatives, is the beginning work on character. There are as many ways in to finding this as there are actors and characters. Again, but only occasionally I might meet a little resistance to this next exercise. This is usually because when actors arrive in the space they are hurrying from the ebb and flow of their normal days. Trains might be late, phone calls need to be made to agents, bills to pay, auditions to book - a myriad of things to do that make up the everyday for all of us. They haven't fully got here yet. Part of them is still on the journey.

Warm up is always the first thing, singing, voice, physical and mental. It takes some actors longer to arrive in the present moment than others. In any event the warm-up usually centres and grounds people.

A typical starting character exercise I have used for many years is Building a home.

Acknowledging that this is the first excursion into character on its feet, I insist that this does not have to be any more than an initial sketch. Thoughts, images  and possibly emotions to be explored, but none to be set in stone. We will find contradictory things about the characters, which of course is essential. Human beings are full of contradictions as are the characters in any good text. Holding the contradictions is key to a good characterisation.

This simple exercise usually lasts an hour and a half in total. I invite the actors to choose a space in the studio that intuitively feels right for their character. It might be a dark corner, the centre of the room or in the full brightness of a window. I tell them that this is the space in which they are invited to create their character's 'home'.  I then ask them to go on a hunt for objects/costume/furniture -anything from our props and costumes stores or from outside and to bring it back into the studio. They usually spend about 15 minutes looking, gathering and bringing back those things to which they are drawn intuitively.Their character's 'home' can be as literal as a bedroom, or as abstract as a feeling. Objects can be used functionally or symbolically or both. This is all done in silence and privately. 

When the actors return to their chosen space they have about half an hour to create their 'home' and to spend time in it. Usually people become totally absorbed as they manifest their imagination, often surprised by the significance of the things they have collected. 

When they are fully inhabiting their 'home' - we take time out to visit each one. The actor might share by speaking or just by showing, or by being in an emotion. The other actors can ask questions, but this always needs to be felt out as it might not be appropriate. We travel to each 'home' in turn, finishing the exercise by coming back into the rehearsal space and sharing any insights into their characters. We then take photos of each 'home'.

The whole exercise lasts for about an hour and a half, but it's time well spent as it propels us quickly forward to uncovering the richness and texture of the character. This 'home' serves as a literal and metaphorical foundation for the creation of the emotional and physical landscape in which the character might live.

There is always a knock on effect of this too which gives rise to the beginnings of understanding about how and where the character might sit  in relationship to the other characters in the play. No absolute decisions are made at this point, but each actor begins to build their own character's  'sketch book' in action.

This exercise also works very well with children because it is a seamless transition from the natural state of play. Indeed with adults too it calls into the space the essential imagination and creativity of their own playful child.

Rehearsals start tomorrow for our piece Crossing Over.I directed it about four years ago, but Natalie has taken on the direction of it over the past three and she is expert at putting shows back on their feet. I probably won't recognise much of the original direction, which is great as she and the team will have made it their own. Obviously I will watch it mid way through - and hope to pick up anything that might need further decisions, ideas or tweaks. Really looking forward to seeing it.

All in a week's work!

Have a good one.

Love, Murdering your darlings and Generosity: Blog 21

We're the bridge across forever, arching above the sea, adventuring for our pleasure, living mysteries for the fun of it, choosing disasters, triumphs, challenges, impossible odds, testing ourselves over and again, learning love and love and LOVE!

(Richard Bach - The Bridge Across Forever: A True Love Story)

Richard Bach

Actors are often described as  'Luvvies' and just now looking at a variety of dictionary definitions I see that almost all are very negative: 

Luvvie ( luvvies plural) People sometimes refer to actors as luvvies as a humorous way of criticising their emotional behaviour and their feeling that they are important.

The term 'luvvie' has existed for a long time as a derogatory noun for pretentious, overblown, narcissistic people of an artistic or dramatic bent. A column in Private Eye was briefly renamed Trevvies for several issues in the mid-1990s after the director Trevor Nunn's use of the term as offensive “as calling a black man a ‘nigger’.

Its a strange one, and certainly we are known to use it about ourselves, usually spoken in an artificial and 'dwaling' voice with exaggerated hugs and false kisses as if we are protecting ourselves from the implied attack embued in the word. At least if we try to own it with humour, we can retain some control over it.

Of course its not difficult to root the name back to its simple meaning
lov·ey[luhv-ee]
noun Chiefly British Informal.
sweetheart; dear: used as a term of endearment. 

And of course the word love sits behind this. Why on earth then is it used by some so nastily towards actors? Certainly we are a demonstrative bunch, some would say narcissistic even and we do put ourselves out there to be shot down. We appear to wear our hearts on our sleeves, we spend our evenings dressing up and showing off in front of hundreds of people. That's ok in a child performing a show in a make-shift theatre in the living room for doting parents, but not for a grown adult surely? 

So why is it then that so many people love theatre, opera, dance and film? Let alone concerts and festivals. Surely its those very same Luvvies that create those things? There is a contradiction inherent in this. I am sure a psychologist could shed more light and interpretation on this than I can, and I don't have a profound hypothesis as its only this morning I find myself rusing on it.

I suspect maybe its just that actors are vehicles, channels, portals to the imagination and the soul. Dare I say mirror? - Well Shakespeare said it so eloquently in Hamlet:

Hamlet:
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this
special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature:
for any thing so o'erdone is from the purpose of playing, whose
end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twere the
mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own
image, and the very age and body of the time his form and
pressure.
Hamlet Act 3, scene 2, 17–24

I guess it can feel both wonderful and scary to travel through the medium of the performance. Its like we might lose something of ourselves if we dare to enter too wholly. And the possibility of transformation sits just on the edge of consciousness, and that is pretty huge. The shamanic traditions have always known this. By inviting the tribe (audience) into the imaginal space there is a possibility that they might struggle to return to business as usual. How many people do you know who claim to have had spiritual, even mystical experiences through being witness to a performance or a piece of music, a painting? This is the most common of things actually. We feel stirred in some way by image, emotion, sound and it draws us back to it again and again. The media and entertainment industry bank on this, and go hell for leather to market this imaginal space to us. 

And the actor (Luvvie) is simply a conduit to this other space, and I make no bones about this, this other space is exquisite. We all know it to one degree or another, its what makes us human. Its full of love dare I say (as a Luvvie!), and I am always hesitant to say that my rehearsal space must be full of love, because its such a loaded word. It can easily be dismissed as trite, self indulgent, flabby, Hallmark card like. So I use it cautiously here, but nonetheless I name it because it is the truth.  We have to surrender ourselves to text, space and the creative process because it is only when there is love that we can touch a source of artistic authenticity. As a result of this we love each other sometimes with unwise careless abandon that is easy to ridicule. Indeed I get that, it can look superficial from the outside, and maybe sometimes it is a mask inhabited.

But for me and the actors and creatives I work with it is an unspoken assumption that the 'doing' and 'being' of love is the very substance and material of what we must do. 

Now here's the thing, however 'loved' up and obsessed we might appear to be in the process of making, the thing that differentiates it from indulgence is the cruelty and uncompromising duty to take a knife to what we make too. You will often hear these days the phrase "Murder your darlings". 

I thought its origin was with TS Elliot but in fact it comes from Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch (21 November 1863 – 12 May 1944) who was a British writer and published under the pen name of Q. He is primarily remembered for the monumental Oxford Book Of English Verse 1250–1900 (later extended to 1918), and for his literary criticism. His Cambridge inaugural lecture series, published as On the Art of Writing, is the source of this popular writers' adage "murder your darlings".

So we work with the invisible clay, or love to uncover the piece we are making. We are never totally sure what will be revealed, but we know that it already exists. Its hard to get started sometimes, but once we are working with that raw material, love, we are consistently surprised and elated. And then we look at what we have made, and can see that it doesn't at all capture the joy and magic we have just found. Here comes the craft. This is when we have to work like road builders to pound, cut, lift, push and pull this thing to forge a shape that can once again allow that first love to be revealed in full. This is the 'murder your darlings' that Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch refers to in his lecture. And this is painful. Its easy to hold on to the seduction of a well formed song or piece of writing, or scene because you love it so much even if it does not serve the piece fully. It requires a move from pleasure of creation to ruthlessness. Not an easy transition believe me.

I always force myself to do this when I am caught in the love space when making a new piece. In my recent direction of the Broadway pantomime I made myself insist that the cast and all the creative team decamp from the cosiness of the rehearsal room at the Malthouse to the bare stage of the theatre. Its what I call a 'naked' run. Its putting what you have made so far on its feet in a much more challenging space, the performance space.  What we had just made and were in love with was just horrible, horrible, horrible! It was wooden, disconnected, frail,dead. We all left the 3 hours disheartened and a bit scared. Maybe we weren't as good as we thought we were. In fact this was proof that we weren't. The kick in the backside that I know instinctively we have to have mid way through a rehearsal period, or I too will get swept up too warmly in the love. 

And so it is for me that there is one primary ingredient that makes what we do - and that is love, from which all else flows. So I am happy this morning to reclaim the name 'Luvvie' and wear the badge with pride today.

Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

Have a luvvie day! 

The Rehearsal Room: Entering the Imaginal Space of Image Thinking: Blog 20

Good morning.

Yesterday I didn't write my blog thanks to leaving my laptop charger at work and travelling down to Kent to spend time with my dear friends Ali and Keith, and then a lovely pop in with my Mum and Dad in Tonbridge.

I've talked a lot recently about the intricate balance of being out there in the cut and thrust of literal survival, in coming up with new ideas, sniffing out possible opportunities to make new work, find new projects and money. Being alert and noticing what's there. Its always an adventure, albeit it a disheartening and exhausting one sometimes. Things are not always easily visible. And the other essentially vital part of the balancing of the scales: the nurturing of creative thinking and imagination, as both a solitary and a shared activity with co-creators. 

Having had some brief but lovely Facebook exchanges with the director Sarah Argent and Chris Elwell, Artistic Director - Half Moon  and with performer Marleen Vermeulen I am prompted to reflect on the director's process and mine specifically.

I will be in the rehearsal room again soon, and I will love being there. I always do, not that its always a comfortable space to live in. So my mind turns today to what are the key ingredients of the rehearsal space that I prepare carefully for the actors and myself to inhabit?  

Whilst one can be somewhat flexible about where the space might be, there are some non-negotiables, which are essential for me. Firstly it must be a clear warm space, with plenty of light. It must have any sound or instruments already set up. It must be big enough to move, jump and play. It must be soundproofed enough so that there are no restrictions on voice or music. We must be able to close the door, and put a "Do not enter" sign on it.  I always bring in a few random bits and pieces to play with, costumes, props and a few blocks maybe. I am deliberately non-literal about this. And always without fail, one or more of those things that we play with make it into the show.  There must be free flowing coffee, tea and water available at all times, and the occasional pack of digestives and some fruit!

We have to be clean about time too, no fuzziness around the edges. So a start at 10am must be just that. And we need to know that at the end of the day we can leave everything as we want to - or give ourselves a clear half an hour to tidy up.

Why are these things about space so critically important to the rehearsal process? It might sound a bit precious, well actually it is. The title of my blog gives it away. As director of a play it is my responsibility to set the temperature of the room, at the very least on the first day. Its as much about personal and collective safety as it is about imagination and creating a piece. 

What I am asking from actors and other creative collaborators is a willingness to bring the whole of themselves to the process. Its actually a given in the agreement to work together, but especially when people are new to each other and to my rehearsal process it can be a bit uncomfortable. Unlike some other professions where it may be possible to divide your self from your tasks at least superficially, in this process you fail if you cannot bring yourself fully to it.

Much of this is unspoken of course. There is also a safety in ritual, and even for actors who work with many directors there is a generic expectation about space and process. This knowing allows them to be pretty good at moving from one theatre making culture to another. However different and idiosyncratic the processes may be which they most certainly are, there is a common language. 

Most actors understand pretty much what kinds of things will be asked of them. There can be a wide variance of receptivity though, like in any group of people. And I need to take that on board every time. 

And then there is trust. I have to create an environment of trust to invite people into.  I need to give them confidence that they can be safe, truthful, playful and disciplined and that once I have established the micro-climate we then transform it together. My job is to get the ball moving and then it passes with ease back and forth between us as co-creators.

The critically important part of my preparation too is of course a forensic familiarity with the text I am working with, and in my case this is often a new piece. I expect to know it back to front by the time I enter the rehearsal space.

So if all these ingredients are well prepared, there is a very good chance we are ready to enter into the imaginal space of the rehearsal room.

I usually start in the safest of places especially if there are new actors or creatives in the team. We start with a few get to know you exercises, easily familiar to anyone, and which create a relaxed feeling and are fun. The laughter at the beginning is so important in creating a release of anxiety which every project necessarily brings with it. Once we know that we can tease (kindly!) and laugh together, we know we are on our way. 

This opening session is then usually followed by a read through of the script. Again I assume that the actors have done their homework, not that they have made any concrete decisions, but that at the very least they are familiar with the territory.  Whilst thanks to much preparation I don't actually need to hear the script read to inform me, what it absolutely does do is enable me to hear the voices and emotions of the people who are to create together. This is always fabulous, as I hear lines out loud that have up until then resided in my head. I get new understanding as I listen which in turn sparks my imagination.  The actors too get a feel for each other in the safe structure of text.

The text brings us together and will almost always include the writer. We start on a shared purpose and the reflections on plot, character and language are invaluable in setting the tone and atmosphere. Its a genuine learning opportunity for all of us, and often there will be insights that emerge in this first shared conversation that will have material impact on the artistic decision making.

After these important starting rituals we are ready to move gently into the imaginal space together. My personal experience of this sacred space is that it takes open energy. I often refer to and experience it personally as the invisible clay that sits in the room between us and must be warm and pliable enough for us to explore its shapes together. I invite the creative soul of each actor to come in and sculpt with me and each other. And when the room is cleared of unnecessary personal daily stuff that gets in the way, the room will shift in temperature and become warm. And then we can begin to work creatively together.

That's it for now. Have a good Sunday.

Taking part in performing arts is good for your health and employability: Blog 19A

Owen Smith Choreographer   - Foto's van JongMusica

With the plethora of reality TV talent shows like X-Factor and Britain’s Got Talent you could be forgiven for thinking that every young ( and some not so young) person in the country is a wannabee performer. 

When you see the crowds lining up outside the regional auditions it does make you wonder why some people go to the ends of the earth for their 15 minutes of fame.  I guess its all part of a dream and appeals to the ebullient child in all of us, and that has to be good.  Sadly though the  gap between the dream and the reality  can be big in our profession, for example, actors work professionally an average of 11.3 weeks of the year. Except for those at the top of the profession performers earn comparatively low salaries and most have to undertake temporary periods of alternative employment between engagements.  



But despite this if you are really determined there can be lots of rewards, there aren’t many people who can say that they make a living doing what they love!  If this is the direction you want to go in it makes sense to get as much training as you can. You can do this in lots of ways, starting by joining a drama club, youth theatre or a local stage school. 

If then you decide to go into the profession Do choose a good course, the best ones can be found on the National Council of Drama  website Training.http://www.ncdt.co.uk/guidetotraining/.

But taking  part in  drama and the performing arts is also so much more than getting a job as an actor, it can set you up to be highly employable in all sorts of jobs.  In this knowledge era good communication, confidence, team work and self-management skills are critical to success. Its really a must and its something that lots of people fall down on. Employers tell us that it is the main thing that makes the difference in interviews and decisions on who to employ. 

Being able to present yourself at your best, articulate your thoughts and ideas well and have energy and enthusiasm will make all the difference to your chances. Drama is a primary life skill as well as lots of fun that builds your confidence and has an end product too in the form of a performance to share with an audience.

At Arc we take a great pride in developing these skills and we often hear from our many past students and youth theatre members about how they are getting on. They have gone on to wide and varied careers and some of course have progressed as professional actors, having made their acting debuts with us at Arc. There are real opportunities for young people who want to get active and participate. 

Have a great day! 

The Half Moon Theatre Young People's Theatre presents Curious by Tam Tam Theatre: Marleen Vermeulen. Blog 19

Marleen Vermeulen in Tam Tam Theatre's Curious

One of the joys in working in this strange old theatre industry is that you belong to an artistic community that stretches back years, crosses borders, invites new collaborators and lifts you up..............and if you are lucky you get to see lots of great new work! 

Yesterday morning I set off from home for Limehouse to visit my old friends at the Half Moon Young People's Theatre and to catch a performance for the under threes by Tam Tam Theatres's Marleen Vermeulen   http://www.halfmoon.org.uk/

Walking up to the white Georgian building, home to the Half Moon I was full of anticipation. The front of the building is impressive, but in need of repair and when I was greeted by Jackie and Chris in their newly renovated foyer they excitedly tell me that they have just been awarded Lottery funding to do a total makeover of the exterior of the building. Its amazing to have achieved this in these times and is testament to the love, effort and tenacity of this committed team.

Its a space you can't help but feel the warmth in. For a small child experiencing theatre for the first time it is welcoming and invites the imagination. It has a curious calm that feels just a little like one of those wonderful schools that are truly child centred and which touch something of the child in the adult too.

I found myself there yesterday for a few reasons that conspired to get me off my b*** and get out. I first met Chris (Artistic Director) in 1988 when he was a young teacher in East London. He was an actor in a huge community play with over a 100 people that I was directing at the time. It was all a bit bonkers and involved dragging a boat through the streets of Hanault and Chris planting an oak tree in a park - it was epic and we had a lot of fun. We reminisced very briefly yesterday about that show and the intervening years of making theatre and surviving the inevitable twists and turns we have both encountered. 

Marleen with Chris Elwell

Also thanks to the wonders of social media I keep in touch with Sarah Argent (Freelance Director and Associate Artist - Theatre Iolo) who directed Marleen in this new piece Curious, so I followed glimpses of the making of the show through Sarah's posts.  I have also known Marleen since the mid nineties when her partner Thierry Lawson worked with me as an actor. He now mostly directs and works frequently with the National Theatre. He's working on something for Little Angel at the moment I gather.

Marleen and Thierry

I went in to watch the show with Chris and was again struck by the inviting quality of the space. Its an 80 seater intimate studio theatre, and at the front were big red cushions for the audience of 3-4 year olds who were soon to arrive from a local nursery.

As they came in, again I was struck by the calm quality engendered in the space.

At the opening of the show, Marleen dressed in a plain white dress with a colourful headscarf sits quietly on a small box stool and just smiles gently at the children as they come in. There is no force here, no demand on them for a particular reaction. Instead her body language and expression are simply an invitation to be present with her. And this is the quality of the whole show. Its gentle, but not in a soft self-conscious way. No here is a performer who is in her own space, comfortable and assured there and into which you can enter if you wish. Its a perfect physicalisation of the invitation to imagine. And of course this is what makes it enormously important work. This is no packaged up Postman Pat. This is the real thing. 

Watching the 30 or so children sit down and naturally accept the invitation into this world, reminded me of what it was like a little when my own children were small and you settled down together to enter a wonderful illustrated story such as We're going on a Bear Hunt. In that situation, imagination, words and relationship are at the centre of the experience. Marleen's assured style and understanding of her own practice creates a similar and strong rapport and sets the tone of the journey of the piece.

Sarah and Marleen's choice of music is excellent and deliberately takes the children on a mood and pace journey - it acts as another character for this solo performance. Its plugged into a collective cultural history in some way, with Wish Upon a Star weaving its way through gently but with deliberate intent.

Its a very simple story and therein lies its authenticity. Actually as I write this it strikes me that it is precisely what I mean when I gave my blog the title Towards the Simple and the Sacred. This is that. Its simplicity is beautiful and in  the performance execution of the idea and image it creates a sacred space for the children to enter. I think this is what made me cry a little when Marleen tells us that its Hondje's birthday. As she begins to play with the utensils she says  'cake'. 

What follows is a beautifully choreographed journey through making a cake. That's kind of it, but of course it isn't!  Marleen empties a small bowl of soil on the floor and begins to move it, feeling it in her fingers, wiping it on her white dress. Gradually during the 40 minute show, her dress gets more and more dirty and then her face gets covered in flour.  She rubs her hands over it as she concentrates on making her cake as if she doesn't realise the mess she is making till she sees her handprints on the dress. And then she just smiles as if to say - "this is fun... Its good to make a mess".  

She adds water to the soil, she puts it back in the bowl and places it in the oven. The door of the oven is imagined, and the children in the audience understand this and are able to go with Marleen from the very real presence of the soil and water to the imagined oven door. Its masterful! (or mistressful!).

The use of the spoken word is a decision that Marleen said was one she and Sarah spent time on - both generally preferring to opt for no words, but their decision to place them simply at certain moments was a fine choice I think. At no point did it complicate or over step, the words rather became a recognisable name and sound and gave a curious witness to the unfolding. And I love the European feel that Marleen brings consciously or unconsciously to her work. There is a humility and confidence in this work which is a precious gem in the midst of the dumbed down rubbish which is the diet for most children. 

Interestingly and by coincidence Ihad just been listening to The Life Scientific on Radio 4 in which Professor Annette Karmiloff-Smith was talking about the dangers of young children being stuck in front of TVs for hours and how we need to be pragmatic in acknowledging the increasing place a screen plays in a child's life. She argues that programme makers have an opportunity to use the screen to move images and create visual opportunities and narratives that do not simply place the image at the centre of the screen.

Watching the show yesterday - of course I know only too well the power of real performance in real spaces with an audience. I was also struck by the inherent knowledge about how children develop that is woven into this piece. TV programme makers could do worse than to come here for some tips on how they could transform programmes for under 3s. Anyway - that's for another day maybe. 

At the end of the show, the cake is made and everyone sings Happy Birthday. Its touching and gives a real sense of order and ritual and therefore safety. Marleen then gently encourages the children to join her on her mat which is a little like a messy corner in a nursery. The design by Candida Powell-Williams is simple and assured with great colour choices, set on a big yellow mat that reminds me of one that is used for rolling out pastry. 

What was perhaps shocking and really a little sad was that some of the children gathered around the edge of the mat did not know how to play and touch the soil and water and sat looking at it tentatively. Or at least they felt that they were not allowed to I suspect. A few approached it with gusto, but not the majority. Marleen and Chris gently encouraged them to feel the soil in their hands and invited them to get dirty. But it was actually quite distressing to see the reticence and unspoken injunction not to get dirty that was present in the room. I think the show may have shifted the injunction for some of the children - I hope so. Its scary if not.

Curious sits in a portfolio of work within the Half Moon repertoire, which enables companies to benefit from being within an umbrella of a company who hold the same artistic and learning values. The show goes out as Tam Tam within the Half Moon Brand and will be at the Polka, Tricycle and Watermans Theatres over the next two months. Check out the Half Moon website or contact  Chris, Sarah or Marleen for more information.

This is theatre at its best and most unassuming! Congratulations to the creative team.

Sarah

NB. Photos reproduced from Sarah Argent's album on Facebook.

http://www.facebook.com/sarah.argent.908?fref=ts

The Hidden Gem - Doing a show at The Network Theatre under the Arches at Waterloo; Blog 18

Morning All

The Network Theatre, Lower St Waterloo Station

We have been in discussion this week about staging another performance in March at the Network Theatre under the arches at Waterloo. Its a perfect venue for our play Mullered by Clifford Oliver, the latest play to be commissioned by British Transport Police.

Many of London’s fringe venues could be described as hidden, but the word is particularly fitting for the Network Theatre, which is situated on an industrial approach road underneath the arches at Waterloo station that doesn’t appear on many maps!

As you make your way to the Network for the first time, you’ll be struck by the feeling that you’ve taken a wrong turn or at least you’re in a place you shouldn’t be. Lorries manoeuvre around you as they drop produce off in the loading bays that the venue counts as neighbours.An odd location, granted, but one which is not without its own curious charm. 

The front door looks nothing like a theatre, but once you walk in its a  small atmospheric venue with a slight musty smell and a faint background ramble of trains in and out of Waterloo. Once inside, it boasts a large stage for a fringe venue along with flexible seating that gives the space a real adaptability for hosting different types of performance.The Theatre has its own amateur company but also stages a range of professional productions. Its a great space to work in and we packed in an audience of 100 the last time we performed

Following a double bill performance of Pact and Boy X we did there recently I got this message from Peter Hulton ( Director of Documentation and Archive at the Intercultural Performance Practice Centre, Exeter University) Peter has directed this message to the Royal Society of Arts and his perspective on Arc's work is interesting. So here it is:

"I am a life long fellow down in the south west, in Exeter actually - but the other day I was up in London and present at a most extraordinary event. It was held in a little known theatre started in 1939 by the amateur dramatic group of Southern Railways. It is now called the Network theatre and nestles under the arches of Waterloo Station. 

I myself have been involved in theatre for all my life but have never come across this space. Anyway, in this little theatre gathered officers of the British Transport Police, from the Metropolitan police, Home Office officials consigned to fighting knife crime, members of the black community in London, community leaders and one or two people like myself. Not a large audience I would say - about 80- the theatre is small. We had all gathered to watch a performance of two short plays performed by Arc Theatre - whose artistic director is a fellow at the RSA. The performance had been commissioned by the British Transport Police - the first commissioning venture of this kind ever undertaken by this particular police force I believe - and it is due to tour into schools both in London and nationally, as well as being taken up by police conference, probation service venues etc. 

It has seemed to me to be at its centre exactly what the RSA is about - an art form that has intervened in the attempts by both Government and Government agencies AND local communities to knit meaningful relationships for dialogue to occur. The play was a provocation, an embodied presence of issues of knife crime and what is called "snitching," when members of the public come forward to give evidence to the police. 

Not only were the performances - by young black and white people (professional actors) from the very communities that are experiencing such issues - moving and intelligent, but the ensuing debate between police officers, audience members (some of whom had had family members killed from knife crime), social workers and others was quite remarkable in its ability to speak from actual experience and its attempt to find a language which others would understand. 

Here we had, as I said, an art form that was a hard pearl of communicated experience which then prompted dialogue, a move towards understanding in an absolutely crucial social area - deaths from knife crime in London is a remarkable statistic- that went well beyond the value of the actual event, considerable though that was. A short documentary film of the performances and the thinking around them had also been made and this I am sure will travel far and wide - so, all in all, a real instance of value added, which is also what the RSA must be about, not simply repeating what is already being done."

Thanks to Peter for this thoughtful commentary. He has articulated here precisely the ambition of this project, namely to create a neutral and safe space in which to explore through a theatre narrative, the complex prejudices, stereotypes and mythologies that sit around issues of communication between the police, justice system, the community and young people specifically. 

There is a fundamental leveling that happens naturally in the presence of good storytelling, the shared experience that enables an authentic conversation to ensue, provoked by an attempt to come to terms with the often conflicting imperatives. One of our actors, Jordan Barrett, who plays the lead in both plays, often says that the relationship between young people and the police is much like any relationship, where conflict occurs when listening, empathy breakdown, in which the desire to "be right" outstrips the ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes and seek understanding and possibly reconciliation. 

Good theatre has a way of reaching into the mind and soul and finding the commonality of human experience. It brings us together in a way that allows us space to understand and debate core values with each other. We may leave still disagreeing, but it allows us to so without the hear of violence and aggression. I believe there is a magic half hour following a performance when we are all transported somewhere else and which allows us to be open enough to ponder alternative perspectives, a prism of experiences.

Here is the link to the mini-doc about the project. Be great to hear what you think.
http://youtu.be/3nrl3wMp6e4

Very excited this morning as I am off to see Curious at Half Moon Theatre with the fabulous Marleen Vermeulen and to have a cuppa with my friend Chris Elwell, the Artistic Director. Looking forward to swapping notes! 

Frozen Poland: Theatre in a State of War 1981 Part Two: Blog 17

Lech Walesa - Founder of Solidarity

Morning all

A couple of people have contacted me to ask me to  write about the rest of my 1981 time in Poland following on from the first post about it last week. I was always going to. So here goes.

Actors are pretty much of the same tribe the world over! What was curious about my time in Wroclaw was that the motley group of actors we met and worked with all belonged to what might be described as a movement. I had always experienced being part of a theatre as being a kind of self selecting family, but what made this Polish experience feel more like a movement was I guess the reality of the political imperative. This was about real people and real lives up against oppression on a daily basis. 

In my previous experiences in the west we still had choices and a certain notion of free expression, however deluded that might actually be. We might pontificate about politics, make work that shows two fingers to the political doctrines we despise, but most of us still go home at the end of the day with little fear that the door might be broken down by soldiers or the police.

So a movement seems to me to be a fitting description of the actors and directors I met in Wroclaw. Even the actors club was nothing like I had experienced before. There people met to talk in hushed words about the military take over. It was dangerous and you never knew if you might be talking to a secret agent. Sounds exciting, but it was really frightening. Actors and directors are political even if they don't know it. The work we make creatively everyday is by definition political, and I don't mean of party politics necessarily. Its about people's lives, the truths of human experience, loss, oppression, joy and the belief in the possibility of transformation and change.

In Poland in 1981 it was more explicit and urgent for this movement of artists, because it meant life or death. If you were found criticising the army or gathering people to talk you put yourself and them at tremendous risk of being 'disappeared' without trace. 

But artists are relentlessly imaginative and resilient, living as we do at the margins, and no more so than those in Poland in 1981. This ability to reinvent is smart, and what emerged in the work being made at that time was a further push into metaphor and abstraction. You see if you use analogy, parable and metaphor in the narratives you weave and perform no one can actually accuse you of dissension. This is in fact an artistic gift, it forces you to go deeper into mythology and universal stories. Its the only way to comment safely. Hamlet takes on a whole new meaning and relevance when performed in a state of war.

Of course for our company, this was to be a short sojourn in the reality of other people's terror. But they welcomed us and assumed that because we were there we were part of their fight. 

This experience was seminal in my development as an actor and director. This was no playing at it. You were either in or not. We all chose to be in.

After the late evening with pickled herrings and eggs and evaporating-on-your- tongue Spiritus, we fell into our beds back at the Monopole exhausted. It took a lot of energy to grasp the real tyranny we were witnessing. But it was palpable everywhere.

The next day we were to go to the large civic hall which was to be our theatre and to get the show in. It was planned that there would be four performances. Seeing the size of the hall was a bit of a shock. It had a capacity of about 4,000, which seemed crazy. This was after all no music gig. The last performance we had done had been at the Dovecot Arts Centre in Stockton-on-Tees with about 30 people in the audience! Thirty in this space would be ridiculous. 

That day was frustrating, dealing with different power sources, people not turning up because they had to do something important elsewhere shrouded in secrecy. Our values of getting the job done were stymied most of that day - and we were irritated by the fact that it took 14 hours to do a 6 hour get-in. When we asked for people to hurry up, our lovely host Jan just shrugged and smiled as if to say 'you just don't get it do you?' and we didn't really.

That night the same Jan invited us to his home for dinner to introduce us to some other actors he worked with. We went back to the hotel to freshen up. And then to Jan's. We had to get the tram to a small suburb just outside the town. We arrived at a stop outside a grim looking block of flats, one of about 30 all the same. 

A smiling Jan met us and took us up the stairs which reeked of urine to his flat. The smell made me retch, but I tried not to show it, as I did not want to look so soft! But Jan grinned as he opened the door to his flat. It was jam packed full of about 20 people. The vodka was flowing and voices were raised, laughing and speaking vehemently. Those gathered turned and waved to us to join them. We squeezed around the table, sitting on anything to hand. The conversation did not cease as glasses were passed to us. Jan's wife was ensuring that people's drinks stayed refilled as she squeezed around the table. 

Immediately I noticed something strange - the long table which took up most of the room was covered with a beautiful white lace tablecloth. And on the cloth a vase of beautiful artificial flowers. Around the table china plates and silver knives and forks promised of a feast. I did wonder how Jan's wife could ever cater for so many people in this tiniest of flats. 

Heated and concentrated conversation that was kindly translated for us by Maciej our polish actor, seemed to point to the fact that one of their number had disappeared that morning. They were urgently sharing information, talking about the fact that he must have been picked up from his flat as it had been disturbed and looked like he had had no time to take anything. They were sure he had been taken to a military prison and were trying to work out how to get information.

It was deeply shocking, I had an experience of unreality and had to pinch myself not to think I was in some sort of bizarre film. But of course you can't ask too many questions as it would be prurient. So we just witnessed it and joined in drinking. Jan's wife came in with a large tureen of some sort of steaming soup I thought. As she began to ladle it out, I looked at my pristine china bowl and saw that the content was hot water with a couple of cabbage leaves floating in it. That and a bit of black bread was the sum total of the meal. It was heavily salted and we drank it as if it were a wholesome bowl of food. No one commented. We didn't. It dawned on me that everyone was holding onto their liberty and dignity as we sat there absurdly drinking hot water from bowls.

As the evening wore on and more vodka flowed, people began to relax and then the singing started. It was amazing, strong, at times out of tune, loud and familiar. Folk and political songs that we didn't know of course, but whose rousing nature made us join in as if we did. Then the storytelling, big gruff men crying as they remembered their lives, shared their loves. And they were actors, musicians, directors and writers so you can imagine the spirit. I cried my eyes out about people I didn't know, caught up in the power of emotion and humanity.

I slipped out to the loo to get some tissue to wipe my blotchy face, to find of course there was no loo paper or soap. They were being rationed to a bar and four rolls a month. This was obviously coming to the end of the month. A piece of newspaper and rusty water had to suffice.

We got a late tram back to the Monopole. I slept another night like a baby. And in many ways at 21 I was a baby. 

Enough for today - part three will follow shortly.  Today I have to apply my thinking and writing to completing our big three year development strategy for Arc! Its exciting.