tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21671176550038613082024-02-20T11:54:49.973-08:00MotherlandThe Motherland BlogUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-6506053373922889162012-11-19T13:55:00.005-08:002012-11-28T16:23:13.598-08:00Letting Go (in Cardiff)<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As the tour comes to an end, I am already slowly letting go of <i>Motherland</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Over 23 years of making work, it's been the most challenging, complex creative process I have encountered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">10 performers </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 understudy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 dramaturg</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2 technicians</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3 staff </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I named it as an experiment before we started. A new way of working. More detached. More formal compositional choices to frame our activity. I tried to name the risks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But the process still took people by surprise. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have never felt more isolated in my role as director. More disconnected. Or more misunderstood.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It seems peoples' heads were exploding working in a different way to the way we have worked before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's been taken personally.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But then it always is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's been epic. Its been dramatic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But then it always is. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So many artists in the studio to consider.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So many egos. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So much doubt to push through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So much material to consider. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So many decisions to make about what to keep, what to leave behind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So much material to put my faith into when others couldn't see the picture</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This deep and disturbing mix of psychology and creativity, this mixing of emotion with </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">form, structure with content. Personal and professional investment comes at a price. It costs all of us and can blind us to each others' needs. It threatens friendships. It leaves us drained and fatigued.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This translation of emotion and experience into art.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">W<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">e produced something extra-ordinary. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Out of the ordinary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Unique.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Do the means justify the end product?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am no longer sure. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Some things remain the same. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maybe it is time for a big change. </span><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-17188496406494384162012-11-07T02:00:00.001-08:002012-11-07T02:00:51.716-08:00A reflection from Andrea Catania
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Each time I perform the piece I find a new feeling, a new
look, a new silence and new special moments. I love the cast and it is a
pleasure to be on stage with them. I am falling in love with the moments
of immobility I have during the show, but I just find it very difficult that
the performances are so sparse and far apart. I wish we were able to do them
one after the other. The post discussion in Brighton was
very strange, a very tense energy, I hope this will not happen again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
.............I
am still here.................................................................</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-80877629924005751072012-11-05T04:05:00.002-08:002012-11-05T04:05:30.254-08:00Leah's thoughts - the start of the tour
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<span lang="EN-US">The shows have now started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new experience is so different to
just rehearsing in Eastleigh. Everything is set. I am getting on the train each
week with a sense of purpose. I am now so much clearer, I know the meaning of
everything I am doing. It all seams very real now. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Before the first show in Newbury I felt
very prepared. I had so much adrenaline. I went on stage feeling nervous yet
excited. I felt really in it, on the ball and enjoying it. My family were in the
audience, after the show my Sister and Brother (who, unlike my Mum and Dad, had
never seen a run) told me how moved they were. For some reason I didn’t expect
them to feel moved, or that they could relate. We had been working in our own
bubble for a lot of time, and sometimes it was very hard to think about the
reaction. Whilst creating the material it felt hard to even imagine that other
people would understand and even relate to what we had been working on in our
own little world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The next show was a very different
experience for me. It was very weird. It was like I was on autopilot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the show I was quite stressed
and kept saying to everyone ‘I think I’ve forgot some of my props, I’m sure I
had more. Where are they?’ of course, I had everything I needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the show, it was like I forgot
everything I was meant to be doing, but was so familiar with it; I just did it
sort of unconsciously. Because of this, after the show I felt like, 'Whoa, have
I just done that, have I really just done a 2 hour show, did I really just run
on a circle of boxes? Did I really sing with everyone and play harmonica? Did I
really just do a duet with Rob? Play violin with PK? Stand in front of an
audience and show what we have been doing for the past 10 weeks?'</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Even though we have only done a few shows,
I feel like I’ve already had experiences, very few 12 year olds would
have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And although it can be
tiring and I have sometimes felt like it is all too much, I am now fully realising
that doing this is so amazing for me, and I am learning so much from it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Leah Yeger </span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-54211126760599119432012-10-22T07:22:00.000-07:002012-10-22T07:22:52.531-07:00PK reflects on the first few shows<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">After such an intense devising period it's time to reset the body clock to ‘performing mode’. So far we have done 3 shows over 3 weeks. Roughly 1 show a week. I wish there was more shows, so I could get into a grove of performing, to the comfortable swing of it rather than feeling like it's a premiere every time. It's exciting though. I’m fond of small venues, when you can look into an audience member’s eyes. I especially like to look into men‘s eyes, trying to figure out what they make of Motherland issues. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">We’ve had one fainter. I wonder if it was all the blood on stage…but there is gossip he was simply drunk! </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Lots of warm smiles, understanding looks, couple of people nodding off, giggling teenagers…I’d say nothing unusual….</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Looking forward to confront the work with Brighton and London audience….Looking forward (and slightly anxious) to sharing it with my friends. Looking forward to sharing the stage space with amazing performers. Looking forward to sharing mischievous smiles with Aurora and Andrea before rocking out the “Pussy Riot” song. It has only just started…soon it’s gonna be over…</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-76974176797933374972012-10-03T16:13:00.004-07:002012-10-03T16:29:07.956-07:00Mapping Motherland We have to work, work, work. Everything will grow. Everything will grow.<br /><br />I am drawing a map. It is a very detailed map. I'd like you to follow it. Follow the map. Get to know the journey. The routes and the shortcuts, the peaks and the troughs, the highways and the byways, the ditches and the dirt. Know the journey inside out. Guide someone through it. Do it with your eyes closed. Take a friend. Take a picnic. Take some pictures. Take the piss if you like. But follow the map. Then repeat, repeat, repeat.<br /><br />Trust the process. Trust yourself. Then you can play. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-43388093518001124352012-10-03T16:04:00.000-07:002012-10-03T16:05:11.604-07:00Charlotte, Scott, Alex, Aurora, Janusz and Patrycja's thoughts from three years ago<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I feel very uncertain as to what can be next after so much questioning,
but with some time off this will emerge and unfold as it always does and
I will start to make phone calls to these talented, committed
collaborators. 'Hey, I've had this idea I think we should try...' </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></span>Remember the words of a lady who came to me after the show and said: "As
long as I live on this earth, I always thought that the sign to clap
and leave the theatre was when the houselights are on". </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">People/the public seem to be finding things in the work to ponder, some
of them. Others ponder other things. What people like, what people
dislike.I think the work wanted to ask some questions of conventions. The rub, has caused some heat, here and there. I can’t tell if we are hip. Or not. Depends on who you ask. At any rate, Thank God she went on. It has changed our lives, forever. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I find it hard to talk about something that I do and live because of my
inability to express it differently. I get up on stage to try and share
that, which cannot be put into words or even into actions. Yet, I try. Not
always do I agree with what I am supposed to be portraying on stage,
but that’s why they call it professionalism. In that sense, I think I’ve
matured a lot; in accepting that the world doesn’t start or end with my
opinion.Yet, I try…I sometimes fight to great lengths for what I
believe and hope that those around me have come to understand that as
passion rather than discarding it as mere pigheadedness.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We
have talked a lot this week and it has been useful, non-egocentric
talking - about the work and what it needs, what it means, what it
offers us, where it may be going. All three performers are is working
within a restricted palette of language - pushing one idea as far as it
can go, making, dismantling, reworking, reshaping, repeating, pushing it
around. We end up with multiple versions of simi</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">lar
material, material that can be looped and repeated, but what is
exciting is that we are now distilling down - making decisions about
what works and what needs to be rejected and removed from the picture. I
enjoy this process. Mining, digging, reforming, recalling, settling on
one version that might be something. And we are rupturing the material -
marking it, speeding it up, stealing from others, writing it, scoring
it, reading it, omitting bits....shifting between languages...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You can look at the picture, the emotions, you
can frame them, there is no need to sink into them... there is
more room for play, for mistakes, for being who you are.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Equipped with confidence I storm onto the stage, only to experience a
wave of doubt. A difference between FEELING and ACTING doubt. “I am real...There isn’t such a thing as being real on the stage”.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-91712904336309310162012-10-01T00:42:00.001-07:002012-10-01T00:42:47.738-07:00Patrycja in rehearsal <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbx2Pg5I_vqxiCZLr_Ccz34O-Flnw_vSTYT5C23xABn8QzNfSNIn5cvCtcs_052O99qi7u4YviQrooEJIOuTRCPIwI2z2glTGH1V_WKUOAibayTvmOS5yYp_Cl9oTYuZA1v64T1TnYJXy/s1600/motherland_point_21-09-12_3+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbx2Pg5I_vqxiCZLr_Ccz34O-Flnw_vSTYT5C23xABn8QzNfSNIn5cvCtcs_052O99qi7u4YviQrooEJIOuTRCPIwI2z2glTGH1V_WKUOAibayTvmOS5yYp_Cl9oTYuZA1v64T1TnYJXy/s320/motherland_point_21-09-12_3+copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-69342466397792344922012-09-30T15:11:00.001-07:002012-09-30T15:11:34.679-07:00Charlotte Newbury Sunday NightThe next chapter.<br />
Into a theatre space.<br />
Technical team now on board.<br />
Still much to sort out and much to rehearse and to tighten up. <br />
Perhaps a change is as good as a rest.<br />
No chance of a rest - I have 6 days off over the next 58 days. <br />
I miss my own bed just thinking about that.<br />
<br />
8 weeks is a long time to be living away from home in Eastleigh.<br />
The energy will fizz and flow in a different way in a new space.<br />
<br />
Then the moving around the UK starts in earnest.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-12763626910920023622012-09-30T15:05:00.001-07:002012-09-30T15:05:38.850-07:00Andrea End of Week 8Eastleigh - The Point- Creation Space - a tree<br />
<br />
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<br />"I am still here" <br />
<br />Off to Newbury and New Lists<br />
<br />
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye EastleighUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-48625220111171939862012-09-25T15:55:00.000-07:002012-09-25T15:55:16.834-07:00Janusz Week 8“Today I went for my hour swim in the hotel pool before 7am, and the sun was already out and the day was warm. At 9am, I had my wardrobe fitting, which took (yikes) 3 hours, as I have 11 changes. I had brought some of my own clothes at the wardrobe woman’s request, but we didnt use any of it because her clothes were better. It amazes me how someone who has never met me can pick out great clothes (11 changes worth!), better than I can pick them out for myself. I have never been a fashion hound, but golly! even the jeans she found were better than the ones I have! I met more of the crew at the production office (a converted hotel suite), and picked up my pink and blue pages for the script. When changes are made to the final draft – because a script is never final until the movie is wrapped, if even then – each set of changes comes in different page color, and the color sequence is always the same: white, then pink, then blue, then green… I think there are 7 colours, and if you go through all 7, you start the sequence again: pink, blue etc. Tomorrow, because the read-through will bring more changes to light, we will undoubtedly get a set of green pages. The childlike part of me likes to have a rainbow script. It hopefully means the story has improved (although often not)."<br /><br />
Excerpt from Baywatch diaries by Alexandra Paul<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-27313727220597137182012-09-24T04:53:00.001-07:002012-09-24T04:53:19.866-07:00PK - week 7<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Every other day we are given a new order of scenes.<br />
It’s almost 100 of them and it takes almost 2,5 hours to stumble through it all. <br />
I realized that for the first time I take part in the show…where I don’t “feel” much. And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s largely because of the specific nature of the show - we don’t accumulate, we deliberately stop before a scene get’s too rounded, before it’s reaches its climax, there’s rarely more than 1-3 people on stage at one time, so, big ‘communal’ swells of energy don’t happen often, not to mention obvious lack of “ characters” or avoiding big “narratives”. Lots of the time I find myself off stage…waiting for my turn to do my actions, or to provide music…or indeed franticly changing costumes, or running back stage like a headless chicken from stage left to right. Right now I find it difficult to find the pace, some sort of flow, or continuity, or even logic, or importance /impact of “my scenes”. IT’S ON AND IT’S OF IT’S IN AND IT’S OUT, AND I DO AND I DON’T….. I suppose it’ll become more organic when we devote some time to rehearse between-scenes-transitions, and play with the rhythm of it. However, from the feedback given from "Outside Eyes” it all nicely comes together.<br /><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-74816383584954039542012-09-23T15:41:00.001-07:002012-09-23T15:41:05.583-07:00Alex Week 7<br />1) as regards to Charlotte's blog week 7... let's be very careful of the semantic slippage at the very end...it's either "WE" across the board or "I" across the board; let's try and be consistent with this and crack this mother(land).<br /><br />2) good to have leah back and nice to see benita's getting more involved on stage<br /><br />3) looking forward to having nik back on wed<br /><br />4) hoping the girls will rock out in a "good" way, be it musically or theatrically inclined<br /><br />5) i want my shoe back<br /><br />6) looking forward to share the stage with this great bunch of talented individuals<br /><br /><br />"... a bit of something and nothing. Something to consider, nothing to get your panties in the bunch about." Liz Aggiss/Charlotte Vincent<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-40124754023692763732012-09-23T15:40:00.001-07:002012-09-23T15:40:10.564-07:00Aurora Week 7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-82278326378897821532012-09-19T14:28:00.002-07:002012-09-19T14:28:52.571-07:00Charlotte Week 7<span class="userContent">Motherland.<br /> <br /> The final push in
Eastleigh to finish this new production. We have some material. We have a
kind of order. We have music, costumes, movement, sound, white, black
and a splash of red. We have many ideas that have not made the show. We
have imagined something dark and witty and brutal and strange into
being. We are in this together - all 10 of us. And we are forming our
individual pat</span><br />
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hs. We are tripping over
the challenges of making an adult production about the sexualisation and
objectification of girls and women with a 12 year old in it. Some
serious questions here - running them over and over in my head. <br /> <br /> We are all bloody knackered. I set out to make a thought provoking piece of work. And that is what this will be.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-6287317971040756672012-09-19T14:26:00.002-07:002012-09-19T14:27:07.022-07:00Andrea Week 7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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SOLO</div>
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espero que entre la musica en mi</div>
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señalo </div>
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lento brazos torciones</div>
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espacio liquido</div>
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diferentes direcciones</div>
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liuba</div>
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recuerdos</div>
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me undo</div>
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puedo ser un arbol</div>
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el mar</div>
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el sol la luna</div>
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mas recuerdos</div>
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flores</div>
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puedo ser flores</div>
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puedo estar aqui o aqui</div>
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puedo estar donde yo quiera </div>
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feliz</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-18066099181795270332012-09-17T07:56:00.001-07:002012-09-17T07:56:38.916-07:00Rob - week 6<span style="font-family: Calibri, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />We had an accident. One of us fell and we all thought the worst and felt fear. Each of us reacted differently in the moment and afterwards we all had an opinion about what should/could have happened after the fact. The injured party screamed and cried, she didn't move, she stayed still and then smiled, winced and finally walked. She is very brave. She is my friend. <br />
<br />
Where is the drama in the room? In us all? Between some/all of us? Is it necessary, do we need it? </span></span>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-50816054938083016652012-09-17T07:55:00.001-07:002012-09-17T07:55:53.345-07:00Alex - thoughts from week 6<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Calibri, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It was cold, or so the legend goes. The wind outside hollered like a pack of wolves. Up the icy road no one can tell if the dim headlights are coming or going. It doesn’t matter, the severed hands of Dartmoor will be waiting until spring and then summer and then autumn and until winter comes again. One day, we all have to pass the icy road.<br />
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Many say, they lost control of their vehicles on the road between Postbridge and Two Bridges, their steering wheels being forced off course by severed, hairy, monstrous hands with no limbs attached. <br />
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The stories are many and they all have one thing in common; every new chapter just feeds into a pattern, an eerie pattern of senseless dying.<br />
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Once, a woman saw the hands creeping on the side of her car and just by doing the sign of the cross, the hands suddenly vanished. This only fuelled the belief that the hands were the devil’s work. Who else would run away at the mere sight of god’s presence?<br />
<br />
On the other hand, a skeptic once claimed that all sightings were in fact reindeer in the fog, and that overtired, careless drivers swerved away to avoid them and THAT is how the legend was born.<br />
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…but no one really dares question their existence; at least not on a winter night, on the icy road between Postbridge and Two Bridges when the wind hollers like a pack of wolves.<br />
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Somewhere in between imagination and reality a pair of hairy, monstrous hands, severed from their master’s control, are waiting to jolt our senses to the very edge of sanity…What lies beyond?<br />
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Do we dare ask? </span></span>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-26345409999497675842012-09-16T15:38:00.000-07:002012-09-17T00:05:37.600-07:00Aurora Week 6Nr1.<br />
So.. Now it is a real Motherland for me... I am surrounded by my family, running, smiling , seeing everything "for the first time", endless energy....<br />
My daughter dancing with me, my son watching the other dancers and musicians with wide eyes....<br />
Everything is new and exciting.<br />
<br />
Nr2.<br />
Leah, Leah, Leah...<br />
<br />
Nr3.<br />
Life is asking too much from me sometimes.<br />
<br />
Nr4.<br />
Janusz goes home, and he will be back tonight and we have to replace the beers in the fridge.<br />
<br />
Nr5.<br />
The families are cooking and eating together, the kids are playing together, they try to communicate in a mixture of Spanish- Polish- English- goobbblygoook language.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-68793647289328693382012-09-12T14:13:00.001-07:002012-09-12T14:13:21.388-07:00Janusz, Week 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="PL">wheat</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">CH<sub>3</sub>CO<sub>2</sub>H</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">18% of butterfat</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">pair of hands</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">sunflower</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">or</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">In the kitchen</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">Sister teacher</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">Mother supervisor</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">Second sister kissing her boyfriend</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">All waiting</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">Patiently</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">for me</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">I am kneeling</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">on the chair</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">small hands</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">kneading dough</span></div>
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<span lang="PL">first lesson of growing up.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-16290090767690673262012-09-10T15:58:00.005-07:002012-09-10T15:58:49.452-07:00Andrea, Monday Week 6<br />everything depends on the context. every image we ( all of us) create is altered by the context in which it is presented.<br /><br />why haven't we been able to have (show) fun?<br />was there no space or we just haven't found it yet?<br />and why does it matter if the piece is dark???<br />take the space...how to take the space? maybe with something small rather than something big?<br />maybe i should sing more to feel less scared.<br />maybe look into my vulnerability...<br />and see where my laughter and joy of being a mother takes me...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-53100666168927869132012-09-10T15:58:00.001-07:002012-09-10T15:58:16.109-07:00Alex Sunday Night / Monday Morning, Week 5/6A white space. Well lit. The house lights go down. Aurora in her blue jeans, with flip-flops on and a worn out Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt on walks on stage, smiling. She gets closer to downstage left. With a single flick of the hip she cues a mariachi band who marches on across the back. She sticks her hand in her pocket and takes out some dirt. She lets it fall on the ground. "Dirt from my grandmother's grave." she says still smiling and starts playfully dancing around it. The band has crossed from stage right to stage left. Aurora finishes her dance. Reaches into her other pocket. "Dirt from my grandfather's grave." The band crosses again, encouraging her playful homage. Once the band has again fully crossed the stage . She stops dancing. From her back pocket she takes out some wheat seeds and throws them over the dirt, running her fingers across the soil. Still smiling. she exits downstage left. Cue music: Will Oldham: I see a darkness. As soon as the music starts, everyone runs onstage with a box full of soil and dumps it on stage, in different places, marking small little personal piles throughout the stage at a very speedy pace. The song keeps going as everyone has finished marking the space and left. The audience ponders this spatial change for the rest of the duration of the song whilst a sprinkler system waters the soil with fine mist from above the lights fade down to 60 percent. Scott comes in with a gas lamp and a notebook full of signs. He does his best to show them to the audience while he tells stories about his mom and her involvment in the equal rights movement in Kansas. He ends holding a sign that says "Hope". He starts laughing which triggers Emily and Leah running on stage and grabbing the sign. "Mine", "No, mine" , " Give it....", "It's mine." they shout playfully as Scott keeps laughing and the lights go back to 100. After a minute or so, Scott exits. The girls keep running until the "Hope" sign is torn to pieces and they are exhausted. They both lie panting on the ground facing the ceiling. House lights go up. An anoucement is made that there will be a 5 minute intermission. The girls stay lying on the ground as the audience shuffles about, some of them exiting to the bar or to smoke a cigarette outside. The girls exit eventually and the stage is cleared of the dirt and cleaned. As the 5 minute intermission ends, the audience are back in their seats. A white space. Well lit. The house lights go down. Aurora in her blue jeans, with flip-flops on and a worn out Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt on walks on stage, smiling. She gets closer to downstage left. She gets naked and talks about still having some regrets about not having given birth through her vagina and how she read somewhere the benefits of that for the child as well as for herself. She makes no intention of hiding her tummy or the fact that it still bothers her esthetically. The men walk on stage and sit down to look at her. She is not hiding anymore. Their gaze is neither perverse, nor threatening. They are admiring her, her body, her smile, her courage. This situation takes a long time to disipate. She leaves. The men look at each other and undress. They remain standing looking at each other, each other's bodies, each other's smiles, each other's courage. Their gaze is neither perverse nor threatening. After a while, they walk off leaving their clothes on stage. Benita comes in he middle of the space with a fold out chair. She is wearing a long emerald dress. Very elegant. She sits down on her chair and smiles at the audience. Greig comes back fully clothed and does his solo around her, taking up the whole stage. He is proud and energetic. From time to time, Benita glances at him with certain mischieviousness. He finishes, quickly gathers the men's clothes and exits. She is left on her own and takes the oportunity to unfold a small piece of paper from here bossom and read out loud her favourite Shelley poem. She leaves the piece of paper on the ground and taking her chair, she exits upstage right. The men come back in formation and start doing "the folk dance" in unison. As they do so, the house lights go up and another anouncement is made signaling another 5 minute intermission. The men keep repeating their folk dance as the audience shuffles about, some exiting, some just taking the oportunity to chat with each other. Eventually, the men exit and the space is cleared and cleaned again. As the 5 minute intermission ends, the audience are back in their seats. A white space. Well lit. The house lights go down. Aurora in her blue jeans, with flip-flops on and a worn out Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt on walks on stage, smiling. She gets closer to downstage left. She starts showing in very slow motion various ways of falling to the ground. She exagerates her emotions with over the top face mimicry. As she continues, a huge red bedspread is brought on stage by other performers. It is torn almost in half, but still hanging together by a thread. As they leave, Aurora exits. Janusz comes in with a box. Cue music: the rest of the performers enter the stage and hover on the sides, loudly banging of various gongs of various sizes. Janusz starts mending the bedspread. Leah walks on stage with a microphone and starts screaming at the top of her lungs to be able to be heard over the gongs: "It's not about the looks" , "It's about me.", "Free Mumia", "Women's rights" , "I am a person", "god save the queen", "haleluya", " you know i love you, right?", "equality, freedom, justice" ,"it's not all about me", "booooom" etc. After delivering her manifesto, the music stops. All performers playing the gongs exit. Janusz who had made some progress, looks around. He is alone. He rips the hole in the bedspread to its original size and starts mending it again. Enter Rob upstage right eating a banana. He normally eats the banana and then tosses a second fruit across the stage to Janusz. Janusz catches it and eats it. He then packs the bedspread and his needle and thread in his box and exits. The stage is being rain upon with fine mist from above. House lights go on. The audience is being rain upon with fine mist as well. An anouncement is being made for yet another 5 minute intermission. After a minute or so, mist off, both in the audience as well as on stage. As the 5 minute intermission ends, the audience are back in their seats. A white space. Well lit. The house lights go down. Aurora in her blue jeans, with flip-flops on and a worn out Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt on walks on stage, smiling. She gets closer to downstage left. Andrea walks right behind her, wearing the same clothes as Aurora. They both suddenly stop and throwing their arms in the air shout : "I am a tree."<br /><br /> (to be continued...)<br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-87081803006566976712012-09-09T07:57:00.000-07:002012-09-17T07:58:04.031-07:00Rob - week 5<span style="font-family: Calibri, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dear Diary,<br />
<br />
HUGE FUCKING LISTS OF THINGS TO DO! I walk on, I look forward, smile and flirt with the audience. I run on, move in ways that are designed reflect some deeper sense of dilemma. I sing, I dance, I provide context. I offer my gaze as a witness, my voice as a provocateur, my energy to lift this work, to offer an attempt at transcending the dirt I’m standing in, the sweat on my skin, the pain in my body and the doubts in my mind. I write and re-write to re-write again. I rehearse and rework and invent new things. I don’t sleep. I do. I drink more than I’d like. I laugh and cry (mostly with laughter) and I feel involved.<br />
<br />
Where are the role models? Where are the images of what we wish we could be? Where are the examples of how to do this – to balance and find equanimity and through this a frame of equality for us all to share? Are we pioneers breaking new ground forging our own futures – is that why we can’t see the wood for the trees, why it all seems so chaotic? Do we lack the imagination and belief that something better may be possible? </span></span>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-9659767133281745262012-09-09T01:38:00.000-07:002012-09-09T01:47:26.926-07:00Week 5 Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Going slightly mad in Eastleigh after 5 weeks of living and working together... only another 3 to go and we should all be properly certified.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-49732894681332035162012-09-09T01:35:00.000-07:002012-09-09T01:49:03.046-07:00Weeks 4 & 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Are we making visual art or choreography - and does that matter and why? And can we cross forms and redefine genres and can we be boldy simple in our approach and refuse the cliches of dance whilst engaging with the cliches of gender... And is the piece a female work and why do we define it as such? And am I the filter or are the performers making most of the choices? And does that matter if it's a collaboration? And how to credit music when everyone is forming it together? And should the sound be rich when the action is sparse? And who makes the choices when the shit hits the fan and there is formal slippage? I think that's me... I think it is me. And I am a woman with a very specific angle on life and the women in the show are different, they have made and are making different choices to mine. And am I represented here anywhere? And what would I do if I were in this work - what would I contribute to this white space of ours? How would I look strong and vulnerable and vocal and silent and simple and complex and ugly and beautiful all at once? Questions, questions....Three weeks to settle on something now... (Charlotte)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2167117655003861308.post-31583132534055008992012-09-05T14:57:00.002-07:002012-09-05T14:59:48.044-07:00Week 5 Running out of Time<br />
<br />
Too much time spent lying in the dirt<br />
Asking the wrong questions<br />
Too much time in silence<br />
Hiding the wrong truths <br />
Too much for one person to shoulder<br />
Standing shoulder to shoulder, my arse<br />
Shoulder injuries and broken backs<br />
Ailments all over the fucking place <br />
Fuck this place<br />
Where are we and what are we doing here?<br />
And is this the right time and place for this?<br />
And are we wasting time<br />
And is this a wasted opportunity<br />
And are we asking the right questions<br />
And will we ever get close<br />
<br />
Break the back of the work or <br />
We're fucked<br />
<br />
<br />
(Charlotte)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0