Week 4 Playwriting, storytelling, adapting

11/27/2019

This was the first performance I would be producing with a week to prepare and a specific brief. A piece to be performed in front of my peer group and Jordan Tannahill, who I had yet to meet and was already a little in awe of.

No pressure then.

As well as conforming to the ‘create something with a beginning, middle and end’ brief I wanted to relish the idea of the FADS safe space. I wanted to share the feeling of joy I found in having a “black box” space to play in - its technical possibilities and giant screen as well as the performance area itself.

I wanted to create a tour through the safe space that the Film and Drama Studio (FADS) provides for experimentation - with a few thrills thrown in.

I was later to question the sensitivity of my personal audience barometer re ‘thrill’. This was because I recalled the moment in our first student led practice (SLP) when I freaked my fellow students out a bit. I had been trying to illustrate a change of tone or mood in an a capella song, and segued from a lyrical version of Let It Be into a very loud punk version without warning. Everyone had jumped - and not necessarily in a good way.

Jordan Tannahill writes on p47 of Theatre for the Unimpressed, ‘There seemed to be something intuitive about asking a group of our friends to come together and bring this thing to life.’ And on the same page, ‘The opportunity for friends to gather together to hear each other say beautiful and strange words.’ Now although these comments are about the development and staging of All Our Happy Days Are Stupid, the concept worked for me. I wanted to make something to solidify the relationship that was growing between the Performance Lab members and to greet and welcome Jordan Tannahill into our working space.

A bit auntie-ish, but why change the habits of a life time?

(That provoked an instant aside from my inner critic making an apposite and overly sarcastic comment about “just how useful many of those habits are”. I ignore it)

In addition to voice memos and an awful lot of wittering in my head I produce a rough handwritten script:

My performance needs a kettle, an iron, handkerchiefs, a small portable record player and a selection of 7” vinyl singles.

And hats.

Not too complicated then.

It will also range over two levels of the Arts 2 building in promenade fashion. (This ironic as a couple of weeks later we will be asked to do something site specific. That site specific performance was another somewhat failed experiment.)

At least in the end I gave up on the idea of individualised envelopes for each member of the audience. It was in danger of becoming a drama lesson instead of an artistic response to ‘Playwriting, storytelling, adapting.’

Listening back to my voice memos in preparation for this piece I had wondered if it could be used to demystify operating theatres for children as well as reinforce a safe rehearsal space for experimentation and play.

Possibly.

..............

Thursday, October 17th

As well as all the other props I have cups and two different sorts of hippy tea. I’ve come in early and fussed about arranging stuff so that hopefully it isn’t in anyone’s else’s way. I’m all set to offer tea as well as warm hankies to my performance’s participants.

Jordan Tannahill arrives and immediately puts me ease with his friendliness. Then discombobulates me by noticing the tea, being pleased and suggesting we have one. But my ‘Wonderul World/beginning middle end/whatever it’s called’ performance hasn’t started yet. There might not be enough water left in the kettle for later.

My copious notes don’t indicate exactly how I dealt with this!

Having abandoned the envelope idea I started the piece in the foyer space of GADS and explained we would be going on a journey which starts behind a secret door. First gentle thrill. Access to areas not shared with all.

We went upstairs to the next floor and entered FADS through “Technical Control”. I was still in the role of facilitator. Once I had developed the idea that space was the beginning of the magic we could all make here we moved to the first of the less gentle thrills. The technician’s caged ladder from the mezzanine to stage level. I offered the lift as an alternative to climbing down but everyone braved the ladder.

In terms of structure this is where it all got a bit messy. My intention had been to provide something gentle to thrill each of the five senses: tea for taste, a freshly ironed linen hankie for smell and touch, a selection of tunes to delight the ear and some mad hats to engage the eye. My purpose was to share tangible experiences that would open out the possibilities of the ways you could engage participants in the space.

As I say - it all got a bit messy.

Timing tea and ironing was more complicated than I had allowed for and my instructions/invitations lacked the clarity and elegance I would liked.

Luckily my participants were game and as well as joining in the wearing of hats and choosing of tunes they were kind when it came to commenting later.

The structure that I had intended to indicate a beginning (the technical capabilities of FADS upstairs in the mezzanine), followed by a middle on stage (exploring how we could thrill the senses in the performance space) and then an end in which we would all feel that the space was a supportive one to jump off and experiment, was weak.

At least everyone looked fabulous in the hats.