Today we opened our (so far) tightly sealed rehearsal doors and let two very generous outsiders in. I think we were all a little apprehensive; it’s always difficult when you make and nurture material to hold it out and see if it stands on its own two feet. So after coffee, cigarettes, a croissant and a warm up our visitors were upon us. Those in attendance were Rosie Klich, a lecturer at the University of Kent, Richard Turney, a close friend of ours and avid spectator of our work and Lindsay Sparkes, a drama student at the University of Kent studying directing.
We had decided yesterday to show them a cross section of Postscript as it stands at the moment, including pieces of material we were happy and confident with and others that were much rougher. We ran through the lamp choreography (which has clearly become the beginning or one of the beginnings, in our minds), the lovers, the telephone, the dance and lastly, the writers. In the name of clarity and the joy of being concise I shall summarise the feedback we received and the discussions we had with Rosie and Richard.
On a very positive note they loved our use of darkness and said this is a unique aspect of the work. The solos and duos which happen in a single light were thought to be very emotive and captivating for an audience and Rosie said this is what she really likes about our work. Concerns and questions which were raised included the issue of sight lines, we will be performing on a thrust stage and as much of the action is very small we need to be aware of what the audience can and can’t see. I think the most important piece of constructive criticism we received is that we can afford to slow down and take our time with all of the material. Overly concerned with creating pace we were, without realising, rushing the actions, the words and the lights instead of enjoying what we are doing and allowing the audience the time to enjoy it to. We entered into quite a lengthy discussion about the shape of the show, the beginning, the ending and the overall effect we wanted to create. All incredibly useful stuff really. So a big THANK YOU to our viewers today, Rosie, Richard and Lindsay.
It was of great benefit and we entered the afternoon with energy and optimism and a drive to make things better. The realisation we could afford to slow things down and play more made a huge difference. This afternoon we tried to run pieces of material together to see how and whether they fit together. Surprisingly (?) it went well; the show is starting to take shape which feels really good. It is still a case of trial and error though, putting things together, taking them apart, tightening and polishing. This is where we will continue tomorrow. And who knows, by the end of tomorrow, we may well have the show, in an order, that works and that feels right.
On a super positive note our lunch was interrupted today with some incredibly good news, it has been confirmed that we will be performing at The Quarterhouse in Folkestone on Saturday 6th June!!!!!!
I shall leave things there for today.
Laura
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Crunch Day at the Beginning of Crunch Week. Crunchy.
Today didn’t feel like a Monday.
I began my day stupidly early this morning in the office. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Rick walked in. “What are you doing here?” A tale of two Obsessives unable to stop working on this project…
Today was a day. It was a tough, important day. And I am shattered, personally. I am going to try writing this stream of consciousness style, to avoid staying up ‘till one o’clock restructuring it like a blog martyr…
Today was the beginning of ‘No More New Material Week’. It marks the beginning of a week the focus of which is revisiting and honing the material made last week. We also have to find a structure, i.e. build the show. It is therefore quite scary. Enough playing. Let’s make a show. Eek. It’s like, if this were a relationship, last week the show and us were dating, this week we are meeting each other’s parents and moving in with each other. Next week we’ll be married with a mortgage! Perhaps tired Daisy blogging is a tad dubious…
In terms of said structure, we have a plan. Rick, in his role as Director, has suggested that we begin to run one piece of material into another piece when it seems to make sense, or seems logical/feels right, or when linking strands (conceptual or practical) become apparent… (Perhaps this seems an obvious idea, but it doesn’t always feel that straight forward when faced with the very real act of putting a piece together…). This seems an excellent idea to attempt to avoid the pitfall of staring at bits of paper on the floor and going cross-eyed trying to structure a show.
However, today we revisited all the material we generated last week. This took longer than anticipated. In fact, it took all day. Some of the material was recalled pretty spot on and some of it will need a lot more work – inevitably. But, it proved a.) that there is a show in there somewhere and b.) that we can still remember it. Hurrah! Rick has filmed it (mistakes and all) and is reviewing it tonight to diagnose potential issues…
Tomorrow morning we have some people coming in to offer an ‘outside eye’ – which is something we try to incorporate into our practice. Devising can become very insular and it is a worry that we may become to ‘inward-looking’ and lose sight of the material. It is however, always a terrifying prospect. Letting someone into your rehearsals is an incredibly difficult thing; it’s very exposing (and therefore ultimately very good for you too…). They will hopefully feedback and we will get a sense of how people other than us perceive the work. Laura will tell you all about it tomorrow, I’m sure.
I’m afraid my head is filled with practical things. Invites to go out. Press release to complete. Junk shop tables and chairs to source and transport magically to North Finchley…?!
I may leave this here, if you don’t mind? I’m sure I’ll think of a million things I should have reflected on when I’m lying in bed…
I began my day stupidly early this morning in the office. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Rick walked in. “What are you doing here?” A tale of two Obsessives unable to stop working on this project…
Today was a day. It was a tough, important day. And I am shattered, personally. I am going to try writing this stream of consciousness style, to avoid staying up ‘till one o’clock restructuring it like a blog martyr…
Today was the beginning of ‘No More New Material Week’. It marks the beginning of a week the focus of which is revisiting and honing the material made last week. We also have to find a structure, i.e. build the show. It is therefore quite scary. Enough playing. Let’s make a show. Eek. It’s like, if this were a relationship, last week the show and us were dating, this week we are meeting each other’s parents and moving in with each other. Next week we’ll be married with a mortgage! Perhaps tired Daisy blogging is a tad dubious…
In terms of said structure, we have a plan. Rick, in his role as Director, has suggested that we begin to run one piece of material into another piece when it seems to make sense, or seems logical/feels right, or when linking strands (conceptual or practical) become apparent… (Perhaps this seems an obvious idea, but it doesn’t always feel that straight forward when faced with the very real act of putting a piece together…). This seems an excellent idea to attempt to avoid the pitfall of staring at bits of paper on the floor and going cross-eyed trying to structure a show.
However, today we revisited all the material we generated last week. This took longer than anticipated. In fact, it took all day. Some of the material was recalled pretty spot on and some of it will need a lot more work – inevitably. But, it proved a.) that there is a show in there somewhere and b.) that we can still remember it. Hurrah! Rick has filmed it (mistakes and all) and is reviewing it tonight to diagnose potential issues…
Tomorrow morning we have some people coming in to offer an ‘outside eye’ – which is something we try to incorporate into our practice. Devising can become very insular and it is a worry that we may become to ‘inward-looking’ and lose sight of the material. It is however, always a terrifying prospect. Letting someone into your rehearsals is an incredibly difficult thing; it’s very exposing (and therefore ultimately very good for you too…). They will hopefully feedback and we will get a sense of how people other than us perceive the work. Laura will tell you all about it tomorrow, I’m sure.
I’m afraid my head is filled with practical things. Invites to go out. Press release to complete. Junk shop tables and chairs to source and transport magically to North Finchley…?!
I may leave this here, if you don’t mind? I’m sure I’ll think of a million things I should have reflected on when I’m lying in bed…
Daisy x
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ah.... Sunday
Since the beginning of our current research and development period we had agreed that today would be a turning point. Throughout this week we have been generating material. The emphasis so far has been on interrogating this material, and exploring ways in which it could be shaped. From now on, for the remaining week, we will concentrate on polishing the various ‘sections’, experimenting with the possible order, running, running, and re-running the various pieces that will make up a whole. So today, as I said, was a turning point: the last day we had allowed ourselves to generate any material; our last chance to just ‘try things out’ for the sake of it.
Surprisingly there was not the flourish of activity that might have been expected. Rather, we found it slightly difficult to identify any ideas we had not already explored. This, however, is not necessarily a bad thing. We have clearly been working hard. Gestures: tick! Interruptions: tick! Fragmented stories: tick! Lamp choreography: tick! Solo and duo actions at the table: tick! Etc, etc: tick! There were, nevertheless, a few things we still had to test: walkie-talkies, dictaphones, and frantic poses. So we fought the typically sedate Sunday mood and got to work.
Originally I had thought that the walkie-talkies might serve as a divide to breach the stage-auditorium divide, but after much consideration we decided that any such obvious attempt would appear as a cheap trick and register highly on the naffometer. Did the walkie-talkies still have a place in the piece then? Well, last night Amber (my housemate) was watching the classic 1972 “Super Fly”, which got me thinking that amongst the various stories that had already find their way into the piece we did not have any allusion to cop/detective plots. The walkie-talkies, with their characteristic beeps and tinny sound proved to be ideal to achieve this. ‘Alpha Romeo 379, come in. Alpha Romeo 379, are you in position?’
The use of dictaphones was one of the elements which we had experimented with during Postscript Mk1. Then, it served as a vehicle to deliver a series of first lines taken from a number of novels. How could they be used now? During this last week we have been exploring how narratives might be fragmented and collide against each other. Could the dictaphones become another means to express this? We tried, all at once; a cacophony. Too much perhaps? Rather than being used in a section all of their own, could the dictaphones instead become a through line, a recurring theme (such as the object-based actions, or our established vocabulary of gestures)? Only running the various pieces we have generated, side by side, in various permutations, will tell.
Surprisingly there was not the flourish of activity that might have been expected. Rather, we found it slightly difficult to identify any ideas we had not already explored. This, however, is not necessarily a bad thing. We have clearly been working hard. Gestures: tick! Interruptions: tick! Fragmented stories: tick! Lamp choreography: tick! Solo and duo actions at the table: tick! Etc, etc: tick! There were, nevertheless, a few things we still had to test: walkie-talkies, dictaphones, and frantic poses. So we fought the typically sedate Sunday mood and got to work.
Originally I had thought that the walkie-talkies might serve as a divide to breach the stage-auditorium divide, but after much consideration we decided that any such obvious attempt would appear as a cheap trick and register highly on the naffometer. Did the walkie-talkies still have a place in the piece then? Well, last night Amber (my housemate) was watching the classic 1972 “Super Fly”, which got me thinking that amongst the various stories that had already find their way into the piece we did not have any allusion to cop/detective plots. The walkie-talkies, with their characteristic beeps and tinny sound proved to be ideal to achieve this. ‘Alpha Romeo 379, come in. Alpha Romeo 379, are you in position?’
The use of dictaphones was one of the elements which we had experimented with during Postscript Mk1. Then, it served as a vehicle to deliver a series of first lines taken from a number of novels. How could they be used now? During this last week we have been exploring how narratives might be fragmented and collide against each other. Could the dictaphones become another means to express this? We tried, all at once; a cacophony. Too much perhaps? Rather than being used in a section all of their own, could the dictaphones instead become a through line, a recurring theme (such as the object-based actions, or our established vocabulary of gestures)? Only running the various pieces we have generated, side by side, in various permutations, will tell.
This coming week, it is now clear, will be crucial. If I may use the visual arts as an analogy perhaps… So far we have made preliminary sketches, played around with colours and tones, layered textures and materials… Soon we will face the white canvas. What stays? What is thrown out? What goes where?
Pablo
Saturday, April 18, 2009
I forgot it was Saturday
Today was fun! It was Daisy’s birthday, which meant we had cake… twice! It seems that sometimes cake can help creativity in a mystical, magical way. Or perhaps the sugar rush coming just after lunch meant we bounced around a lot in the afternoon.
Either way it did the trick, helping us find something “else” in the material.
We keep returning to how stories are told, retold, found in other tales, stories and memories.
What happens if we float them across the stage? What happens if, in this hinterland, two voices breathe life into and drop. A princess in a tower, a man in a prison cell pacing round and round in a circle in his cell, no actually it’s just a man in a room, not a room a park and its not a man it’s a girl…and she’s crying, no… laughing and she see’s a man across the room…
If there are no true characters and only whiffs of the author's imagination, why do we still recognise them to some extent another?
We’d played today with a phone-call.
What does a phone-call mean? what does a phone-call mean when two people reach for the receiver, what happens if we show you two alternatives, what happens when you just see a flash?
What is the difference between the putting down of a phone and the slamming of a phone. What does it mean when someone else takes the phone and hangs it up gently, softly even, consolingly? Or is it maternally? Protectively?
Its interesting the difference that gender can play in the reading of images, two boys, two girls, two girls one boy, a boy and a girl? Is this reading based on our experience? On received wisdom? Something innate?
One of the most Zen like activities about this show are the lamps we have been playing with since we started this piece, was the lamps. I think the half darkness in the studio, using these floor-bound lamps sometimes makes us forget its daytime. I forgot it was Saturday, I think West Ham drew with Villa and apparently Red Bull are on two of the top three starting spots for tomorrows Chinese Grand prix… Today we got into something that Accidental Collective secretly like. Choreography. One lamp, two lamps, how do you bring an audience into a world , a abstract world where writers and stories, form and function can meet.
What does a lamp do? Light the darkness? Brighten things up? Illuminate? Expose? In a kind of link to the lives of our prehistoric forebears do we associate it with warmth? Comfort? Safety? Or is it reminiscent of archetypal images of sitting around the campfire and bedtime stories.
Two lamps, three lamps, four lamps. On and Off, flashes and co-ordinated displays. It can be really challenging to find a piece of material that comes out of rules and trial and error and find that it is something that will require practice, concentration and trust in each other.
Soon we’re going to stop generating new material and work to hone, build and structure the different fragments, flashes moments and stories. Eek!
Rick
Either way it did the trick, helping us find something “else” in the material.
We keep returning to how stories are told, retold, found in other tales, stories and memories.
What happens if we float them across the stage? What happens if, in this hinterland, two voices breathe life into and drop. A princess in a tower, a man in a prison cell pacing round and round in a circle in his cell, no actually it’s just a man in a room, not a room a park and its not a man it’s a girl…and she’s crying, no… laughing and she see’s a man across the room…
If there are no true characters and only whiffs of the author's imagination, why do we still recognise them to some extent another?
We’d played today with a phone-call.
What does a phone-call mean? what does a phone-call mean when two people reach for the receiver, what happens if we show you two alternatives, what happens when you just see a flash?
What is the difference between the putting down of a phone and the slamming of a phone. What does it mean when someone else takes the phone and hangs it up gently, softly even, consolingly? Or is it maternally? Protectively?
Its interesting the difference that gender can play in the reading of images, two boys, two girls, two girls one boy, a boy and a girl? Is this reading based on our experience? On received wisdom? Something innate?
One of the most Zen like activities about this show are the lamps we have been playing with since we started this piece, was the lamps. I think the half darkness in the studio, using these floor-bound lamps sometimes makes us forget its daytime. I forgot it was Saturday, I think West Ham drew with Villa and apparently Red Bull are on two of the top three starting spots for tomorrows Chinese Grand prix… Today we got into something that Accidental Collective secretly like. Choreography. One lamp, two lamps, how do you bring an audience into a world , a abstract world where writers and stories, form and function can meet.
What does a lamp do? Light the darkness? Brighten things up? Illuminate? Expose? In a kind of link to the lives of our prehistoric forebears do we associate it with warmth? Comfort? Safety? Or is it reminiscent of archetypal images of sitting around the campfire and bedtime stories.
Two lamps, three lamps, four lamps. On and Off, flashes and co-ordinated displays. It can be really challenging to find a piece of material that comes out of rules and trial and error and find that it is something that will require practice, concentration and trust in each other.
Soon we’re going to stop generating new material and work to hone, build and structure the different fragments, flashes moments and stories. Eek!
Rick
Friday, April 17, 2009
Fourth Day... (Friday 17th April)
So here we are so soon, the fourth day. A third of the way through now. The weather is miserable and we are rehearsing in a white box that hums, strange things may happen today...
The video camera is out and we film the gesture tales, then gingerly sit round the TV and watch it back. Its good but can be better, as with everything, we can always push it further. Setting a trigger to speed up we try it again, film it again, watch it again. It is better again. There is a moment where three of us step forward and pause; it seems we have found the climax in this section, the moment where it needs to become something else. Who knows what that will be? We leave this, until tomorrow, it has become the way we start our working day.
Back to the orchestra today. Is there anything there? Will it fit conceptually? Sure it’s fun to do, but is it exciting to watch? We shorten it today and adopt poses which contradict the text. We run it and it feels good, but is it enough? Will it make the final cut?
Break, it’s still raining.
Our collection of lamps for Postscript Mk 1 have been housed in bags for the last six months but today we took them out, plugged them and switched them on. And off, and then on again. We spent a lot of time playing and just seeing what happened. This is always a good place to start. Silence, gestures, remnants of bedtime stories, snippets of action, the reappearance of the dog mask, what did we want to do? Nothing set in stone but plenty of thoughts, ideas, and beginnings to explore and develop. Lots of questions about what we want to repeat, what we want to show, how much do we want to give to the audience?
Some new stories were bought to the table today, Rick went first and read his aloud recording it on to the Dictaphone. A story of a naughty troll who comes good, a classic tale of rebirth. Then we turned all the lights out, as if going to bed, and listened to the story through the slightly fuzzy recording. It felt good to just be listening to the words but we want to subvert the story, maybe with an interruption, maybe the use of 'ping turn the page'. Again this felt like the beginning of a piece of material, definitely something to return to.
Lunch, more rain.
Then we turned to horror. My simple tale of a dark house on a hill, a ghostly figure and a naive man who would meet a messy end. Pablo and I assumed the main roles. With bulbs in hand we played with setting the scene, pulling faces in the light, hamming up the horror and telling the story. This section was very much about the details, exactly where the light should be held so you could see my hand but not my face. Tweaking and re-working to make it perfect, maybe a new genre was just was we need to keep things exciting. And make things a little scary!
Late afternoon proved a little trickier in terms of finding material or stumbling across something that was conceptually clear. We found a few moments to start with...the dog mask re-appeared in a tender dance with a light bulb. Should this be juxtaposed with another fragment? Suddenly Daisy was on stage, moving provocatively lighting up her body and whistling 'Blue Moon'. There were lots of questions about the story behind this action, is it the girl with the rose, is it a new story? How do we want to make a connection? We concentrated on choreographing Burlesque style movement for Daisy, it started to come together.
That was where we left the day, as I said it felt like a day of beginnings. Plenty to be working with, plenty to explore, plenty to develop. It will all come together, but not yet, its only day four.
Laura
The video camera is out and we film the gesture tales, then gingerly sit round the TV and watch it back. Its good but can be better, as with everything, we can always push it further. Setting a trigger to speed up we try it again, film it again, watch it again. It is better again. There is a moment where three of us step forward and pause; it seems we have found the climax in this section, the moment where it needs to become something else. Who knows what that will be? We leave this, until tomorrow, it has become the way we start our working day.
Back to the orchestra today. Is there anything there? Will it fit conceptually? Sure it’s fun to do, but is it exciting to watch? We shorten it today and adopt poses which contradict the text. We run it and it feels good, but is it enough? Will it make the final cut?
Break, it’s still raining.
Our collection of lamps for Postscript Mk 1 have been housed in bags for the last six months but today we took them out, plugged them and switched them on. And off, and then on again. We spent a lot of time playing and just seeing what happened. This is always a good place to start. Silence, gestures, remnants of bedtime stories, snippets of action, the reappearance of the dog mask, what did we want to do? Nothing set in stone but plenty of thoughts, ideas, and beginnings to explore and develop. Lots of questions about what we want to repeat, what we want to show, how much do we want to give to the audience?
Some new stories were bought to the table today, Rick went first and read his aloud recording it on to the Dictaphone. A story of a naughty troll who comes good, a classic tale of rebirth. Then we turned all the lights out, as if going to bed, and listened to the story through the slightly fuzzy recording. It felt good to just be listening to the words but we want to subvert the story, maybe with an interruption, maybe the use of 'ping turn the page'. Again this felt like the beginning of a piece of material, definitely something to return to.
Lunch, more rain.
Then we turned to horror. My simple tale of a dark house on a hill, a ghostly figure and a naive man who would meet a messy end. Pablo and I assumed the main roles. With bulbs in hand we played with setting the scene, pulling faces in the light, hamming up the horror and telling the story. This section was very much about the details, exactly where the light should be held so you could see my hand but not my face. Tweaking and re-working to make it perfect, maybe a new genre was just was we need to keep things exciting. And make things a little scary!
Late afternoon proved a little trickier in terms of finding material or stumbling across something that was conceptually clear. We found a few moments to start with...the dog mask re-appeared in a tender dance with a light bulb. Should this be juxtaposed with another fragment? Suddenly Daisy was on stage, moving provocatively lighting up her body and whistling 'Blue Moon'. There were lots of questions about the story behind this action, is it the girl with the rose, is it a new story? How do we want to make a connection? We concentrated on choreographing Burlesque style movement for Daisy, it started to come together.
That was where we left the day, as I said it felt like a day of beginnings. Plenty to be working with, plenty to explore, plenty to develop. It will all come together, but not yet, its only day four.
Laura
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Third day... (Wednesday 15th April)
Hello third day of rehearsals. Hello rubbish campus coffee before we start and gentle chit-chat as we warm up. Hello linoleum-floored studio, smelling ever so slightly of feet and junk shops. Feeling good to begin a day of Postscript-building.
Hello a day of two halves:
To begin, we revisit a new piece of material from yesterday. Lines have been learnt. Rhythms are more familiar. The focus is palpable. Not yet there, but on its way…
Hello lamps, old friends. Extension cables plugged in. Bulbs spring to life – a field of lights in the dark. Workers out. Black out. A table, two chairs, a lamp. Rick and myself. Laura and Pablo place objects on the table in front of us. A miniature playground - touch, feel, play. A music box, a bottle, a piece of red fabric, a stethoscope (also the binoculars and knife; which are played with but later rejected).
Lights up. We play. That doesn’t work, that could work, there’s something there, try that again, and again in like this…
A story begins to form from the moment we both reach for the bottle at the same time… Try another permutation – we both reach for the bottle and I get there first. And again, we both reach, but he gets it and removes it. What is the story of each version? Which do we want to tell?
Lift the lid. The music box plays. I want to dance like the music box dancer (who incidentally isn’t actually there, just the stump where she once was…). Red fabric over my face. I stand on the chair and spin like a music box doll. I think of the part in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang where Truly Scrumptious pretends to be a wind up doll…
We then revisit a piece of material from the work-in-progress of Postscript, also using Rick and myself (archetype - ‘the Lovers’). Are there correlations between this and the new music box fragment? We impose the red material on it. (A connection, an echo, a particle spilt out and lodged in a different story? Or is it the same story?) Permutations: the fabric on the floor as they lean in to embrace; the material on her head removed as she turns away from the embrace; the fabric on her head removed as she reaches away from the embrace… It’s a triptych. But in the world of Postscript, nothing is viewed as a ‘unit’. It needs interrupting. We consider spoken text. We consider story-tapes (‘ping’ to indicate when to turn the page). We consider choose-your-own-adventure books (Turn to page 24 if you want to see Bill meet the monster, or page 50 if you want to see him turn back to the forest). But ultimately, we agree that what should interrupt this triptych may be decided or discovered later. For now what interrupts it is one of those helpful conceptual question marks…(?We like those?)
Hello Afternoon.
An afternoon of Important Discussions.
Bloggable? Blog-worthy? I’m not sure. Let me summarise.
We needed to sit down and brain-storm/mind-map/’bleurgh’ about some of the Big Postscript Questions. Not in order to answer them (yet) but just to ‘have them out’.
What does Postscript look like? Set. Props. Costume. Lighting. We each have a turn (‘In MY head, it looks like this…’ etc). Some different ideas, but essentially we seem to have the same general idea of what the ‘final product’ might ‘be’… Watch this space…
And also – The Audience? The question we knew was implicit in tackling this project. The work-in-progress of Postscript was performed in a small bar, at the audience’s table. The ArtsDepot performance will be in an auditorium, on a stage. We’re adapting/distilling the show in its essence but the audience experience will be entirely different, as dictated by the environment. Is it possible to give them a taste of the intimacy that was created in the work-in-progress in a totally different venue? The material is beginning to stand up alone, so what purpose does ‘implicating’ the audience(through proximity, intimacy and direct involvement and interaction), as we did before, actually serve (if it is even possible?…
Today we achieved something small – a fascinating fragment of the show was formed. And we also faced up to something big – the questions that demand to be addressed through this process, in order to make this project everything we want it to be.
However, I haven’t gone away from today phased, or even scared. I’m really, really excited.
Hello a day of two halves:
To begin, we revisit a new piece of material from yesterday. Lines have been learnt. Rhythms are more familiar. The focus is palpable. Not yet there, but on its way…
Hello lamps, old friends. Extension cables plugged in. Bulbs spring to life – a field of lights in the dark. Workers out. Black out. A table, two chairs, a lamp. Rick and myself. Laura and Pablo place objects on the table in front of us. A miniature playground - touch, feel, play. A music box, a bottle, a piece of red fabric, a stethoscope (also the binoculars and knife; which are played with but later rejected).
Lights up. We play. That doesn’t work, that could work, there’s something there, try that again, and again in like this…
A story begins to form from the moment we both reach for the bottle at the same time… Try another permutation – we both reach for the bottle and I get there first. And again, we both reach, but he gets it and removes it. What is the story of each version? Which do we want to tell?
Lift the lid. The music box plays. I want to dance like the music box dancer (who incidentally isn’t actually there, just the stump where she once was…). Red fabric over my face. I stand on the chair and spin like a music box doll. I think of the part in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang where Truly Scrumptious pretends to be a wind up doll…
We then revisit a piece of material from the work-in-progress of Postscript, also using Rick and myself (archetype - ‘the Lovers’). Are there correlations between this and the new music box fragment? We impose the red material on it. (A connection, an echo, a particle spilt out and lodged in a different story? Or is it the same story?) Permutations: the fabric on the floor as they lean in to embrace; the material on her head removed as she turns away from the embrace; the fabric on her head removed as she reaches away from the embrace… It’s a triptych. But in the world of Postscript, nothing is viewed as a ‘unit’. It needs interrupting. We consider spoken text. We consider story-tapes (‘ping’ to indicate when to turn the page). We consider choose-your-own-adventure books (Turn to page 24 if you want to see Bill meet the monster, or page 50 if you want to see him turn back to the forest). But ultimately, we agree that what should interrupt this triptych may be decided or discovered later. For now what interrupts it is one of those helpful conceptual question marks…(?We like those?)
Hello Afternoon.
An afternoon of Important Discussions.
Bloggable? Blog-worthy? I’m not sure. Let me summarise.
We needed to sit down and brain-storm/mind-map/’bleurgh’ about some of the Big Postscript Questions. Not in order to answer them (yet) but just to ‘have them out’.
What does Postscript look like? Set. Props. Costume. Lighting. We each have a turn (‘In MY head, it looks like this…’ etc). Some different ideas, but essentially we seem to have the same general idea of what the ‘final product’ might ‘be’… Watch this space…
And also – The Audience? The question we knew was implicit in tackling this project. The work-in-progress of Postscript was performed in a small bar, at the audience’s table. The ArtsDepot performance will be in an auditorium, on a stage. We’re adapting/distilling the show in its essence but the audience experience will be entirely different, as dictated by the environment. Is it possible to give them a taste of the intimacy that was created in the work-in-progress in a totally different venue? The material is beginning to stand up alone, so what purpose does ‘implicating’ the audience(through proximity, intimacy and direct involvement and interaction), as we did before, actually serve (if it is even possible?…
Today we achieved something small – a fascinating fragment of the show was formed. And we also faced up to something big – the questions that demand to be addressed through this process, in order to make this project everything we want it to be.
However, I haven’t gone away from today phased, or even scared. I’m really, really excited.
Daisy x
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Second day...
Today, straight to it. No show and tell; no talking; get up and go. Our shared need to ‘do’ perhaps arising from slight aches and pains. It is humbling to realise our bodies are somewhat out of practice, and even better to discover a desire to warm-up property. Oh, the absolute joy of feeling the machinery moving again, of being back in the studio.
We take the morning and early afternoon to revisit the material generated yesterday. Whilst working on the previous version of Postscript I remember Daisy looking to explore ways of layering and texturing: movement, voice, text… Back then this was a sort of afterthought to our initial rehearsals; now, somehow, it is here from the beginning: gestures we used in the work-in-progress, a tut, a cry, a laugh, get up, sit down, fragmentary stories told in 15 lines. What is special about our work today is the process of testing and re-testing endless permutations. Not only are we polishing and clarifying the material, but we are also trying to explore the possible rhythms within it as if it were a musical coda (build, climax, unexpected pause, slow decline towards the end). It is not merely a question of movement and voice, but a conceptual one too. As we move between gestures, getting up to delivering our broken stories, the narratives collide, chase each other, and depart.
In the afternoon we unpack. Funny how the basics for a show can neatly fit into a suitcase and a few bags. In front of us, a collection of familiar objects: the dog mask, the rose, the wine glass, the knife, the cards… We also unpack, metaphorically speaking. I must confess that I was somewhat nervous about returning to the work-in-progress. Perhaps due to the uncertainty of how we would feel about after all this time, perhaps due to a misconstrued lack of confidence in having the right tools to interrogate this old material. However, these apprehensions evaporate, and seem rather petty, as soon as we get to work. It feels right. Whilst revisiting the work-in-progress’ table-actions we find ourselves thinking, again, of archetypes and the most basic plots. It seems that after all they will not be relegated to a hinterland. We are finding our way towards a fully formed question (something which we now understand to be of utmost importance for the work). Something - something… how we read fragments to make up a story… something – something… the power of recognisable symbols… From the start we were aware that the piece had to be tidied up, conceptually speaking. However, it is exciting to be able to take our time: treading gently, investigating every nook and cranny, considering alternative options, trying out every possibility. Somehow, as we sat in the darkness picking apart our table-actions, something at the very back of my mind pondered the differences between our process now and when we created our work-in-progress. This time it is more measured. We are looking closer; digging deeper. Cut, paste, rewind, slow play, pause, fast forward… With this comes an awareness of our creative mechanisms in pulling stories apart or extracting their most basic components. For instance, during our previous phase of rehearsals we found it difficult to generate material under the rubric of a defined story or even a genre. We simply could not operate as freely under such weight. Now, with the help of an understanding of the seven basic plots, we are able to think more associatively. We seem to prefer broader brush strokes; a more impressionistic performance mode. As for our methodology, the quasi-mathematical yet instinctual approach we began exploring last autumn is slowly taking shape. This is our practice. And it rocks!
We take the morning and early afternoon to revisit the material generated yesterday. Whilst working on the previous version of Postscript I remember Daisy looking to explore ways of layering and texturing: movement, voice, text… Back then this was a sort of afterthought to our initial rehearsals; now, somehow, it is here from the beginning: gestures we used in the work-in-progress, a tut, a cry, a laugh, get up, sit down, fragmentary stories told in 15 lines. What is special about our work today is the process of testing and re-testing endless permutations. Not only are we polishing and clarifying the material, but we are also trying to explore the possible rhythms within it as if it were a musical coda (build, climax, unexpected pause, slow decline towards the end). It is not merely a question of movement and voice, but a conceptual one too. As we move between gestures, getting up to delivering our broken stories, the narratives collide, chase each other, and depart.
In the afternoon we unpack. Funny how the basics for a show can neatly fit into a suitcase and a few bags. In front of us, a collection of familiar objects: the dog mask, the rose, the wine glass, the knife, the cards… We also unpack, metaphorically speaking. I must confess that I was somewhat nervous about returning to the work-in-progress. Perhaps due to the uncertainty of how we would feel about after all this time, perhaps due to a misconstrued lack of confidence in having the right tools to interrogate this old material. However, these apprehensions evaporate, and seem rather petty, as soon as we get to work. It feels right. Whilst revisiting the work-in-progress’ table-actions we find ourselves thinking, again, of archetypes and the most basic plots. It seems that after all they will not be relegated to a hinterland. We are finding our way towards a fully formed question (something which we now understand to be of utmost importance for the work). Something - something… how we read fragments to make up a story… something – something… the power of recognisable symbols… From the start we were aware that the piece had to be tidied up, conceptually speaking. However, it is exciting to be able to take our time: treading gently, investigating every nook and cranny, considering alternative options, trying out every possibility. Somehow, as we sat in the darkness picking apart our table-actions, something at the very back of my mind pondered the differences between our process now and when we created our work-in-progress. This time it is more measured. We are looking closer; digging deeper. Cut, paste, rewind, slow play, pause, fast forward… With this comes an awareness of our creative mechanisms in pulling stories apart or extracting their most basic components. For instance, during our previous phase of rehearsals we found it difficult to generate material under the rubric of a defined story or even a genre. We simply could not operate as freely under such weight. Now, with the help of an understanding of the seven basic plots, we are able to think more associatively. We seem to prefer broader brush strokes; a more impressionistic performance mode. As for our methodology, the quasi-mathematical yet instinctual approach we began exploring last autumn is slowly taking shape. This is our practice. And it rocks!
Pablo
Monday, April 13, 2009
First day...
First day…
There’s always things in life that don’t go exactly to plan.
Rehearsals are one of them.
However sometimes the smallest change of plan can lead to unexpected places.
We started with a little show and tell. it’s a nice way to get ideas and thoughts out and moving. Edward Steichen and Cindy Sherman’s photography. Filmic and iconographic images.
We thought of the way that the moments we found for Postscript Mk1 served the same purpose. Maybe now we’re looking at how we can explore those moments, unpack what they’re made of, what stories they tell.
We talked about Booker’s “The Seven Basic Plots”. Overcoming the Monster, Rags to Riches, The Quest, Voyage and Return, Comedy, Tragedy, Rebirth… Is that all there is? Is every narrative just clouded by archetypes of places, ideas, symbols and people?
We wondered if the show we are now setting out to re-make was a visual attempt at Flash fiction… Or a set of Six word stories now begging to be made into Twelve word stories, No-word-but-myriad-of-image-stories... Or perhaps we’ll just be taking these archetypes and putting them in a hinterland space together…
High flown talk indeed. But that’s what first days seem to need…
My carefully written rehearsal plan went out of the window as our props collection was unexpectedly locked in a University building over the bank holiday. No props complicates the first line of my carefully written rehearsal plan. “Unpack and look at all props, lamps, etc…”
Oh well, we just jumped straight in anyway.
Games where we try limit our actions to all but a few like walking, running, jumping, sitting. We found Classic FM on the radio and you can play the game for quite a while and everything goes quite Zen. Add rules where any actions are allowed, try telling a story, trying to create an inner logic. We tried imposing stories to try to enact, but that didn’t work. But when we thought less about particular stories but simply of the Seven Basic Plots with their each particular set of associations the Zen returned…
Sometimes its quite striking when a single image can give you and instant read of the story behind it. Cinderella spotted trying on the glass slipper, Grendel and Beowulf fighting it out, The Very hungry Caterpillar chomping his way through the week…
We returned to some old material we wanted to play about with. We expanded split seconds into whole minutes then cut them in two, which half of the story is important? What happens if one person tells the first half, the other; the second, and a split second in-between by a third. What does that do to the story?
This got us through the rest of the day… what happens when you tell a story in a series of flashes each minutes apart? What happens when four people try to express one story with no words and only 4 actions between them? How much can we give with a limited palette?
What happens if that limited palette is orchestrated by a conductor, baton and all..?
It seems like there’s a lot of questions today…
I think I might have to relax my rehearsal plan a little.
Rick
There’s always things in life that don’t go exactly to plan.
Rehearsals are one of them.
However sometimes the smallest change of plan can lead to unexpected places.
We started with a little show and tell. it’s a nice way to get ideas and thoughts out and moving. Edward Steichen and Cindy Sherman’s photography. Filmic and iconographic images.
We thought of the way that the moments we found for Postscript Mk1 served the same purpose. Maybe now we’re looking at how we can explore those moments, unpack what they’re made of, what stories they tell.
We talked about Booker’s “The Seven Basic Plots”. Overcoming the Monster, Rags to Riches, The Quest, Voyage and Return, Comedy, Tragedy, Rebirth… Is that all there is? Is every narrative just clouded by archetypes of places, ideas, symbols and people?
We wondered if the show we are now setting out to re-make was a visual attempt at Flash fiction… Or a set of Six word stories now begging to be made into Twelve word stories, No-word-but-myriad-of-image-stories... Or perhaps we’ll just be taking these archetypes and putting them in a hinterland space together…
High flown talk indeed. But that’s what first days seem to need…
My carefully written rehearsal plan went out of the window as our props collection was unexpectedly locked in a University building over the bank holiday. No props complicates the first line of my carefully written rehearsal plan. “Unpack and look at all props, lamps, etc…”
Oh well, we just jumped straight in anyway.
Games where we try limit our actions to all but a few like walking, running, jumping, sitting. We found Classic FM on the radio and you can play the game for quite a while and everything goes quite Zen. Add rules where any actions are allowed, try telling a story, trying to create an inner logic. We tried imposing stories to try to enact, but that didn’t work. But when we thought less about particular stories but simply of the Seven Basic Plots with their each particular set of associations the Zen returned…
Sometimes its quite striking when a single image can give you and instant read of the story behind it. Cinderella spotted trying on the glass slipper, Grendel and Beowulf fighting it out, The Very hungry Caterpillar chomping his way through the week…
We returned to some old material we wanted to play about with. We expanded split seconds into whole minutes then cut them in two, which half of the story is important? What happens if one person tells the first half, the other; the second, and a split second in-between by a third. What does that do to the story?
This got us through the rest of the day… what happens when you tell a story in a series of flashes each minutes apart? What happens when four people try to express one story with no words and only 4 actions between them? How much can we give with a limited palette?
What happens if that limited palette is orchestrated by a conductor, baton and all..?
It seems like there’s a lot of questions today…
I think I might have to relax my rehearsal plan a little.
Rick
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Tomorrow and Beginnings (new ones)
Hello All.
Tomorrow, Accidental Collective return to the rehearsal studio. They are taking POSTSCRIPT (as it stands) with them. When they emerge from the rehearsal period in two weeks' time, POSTSCRIPT will be a different (better, exciting, pulse-quickening) performance and ready to show the world (or rather, the audience that will hopefully come to Artsdepot, North Finchley on the 3rd May... http://www.artsdepot.co.uk)
We will endeavour to keep you updated on our progress over the next two weeks. So if you fancy a sneaky peak at our creative processes and our reflections on those processes, do have a look on here. You know us, no holds barred!
All the best,
Goodnight,
Daisy xxx
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