The Famous Fringe

Dance stops trafficking but Miranda couldn’t stop the bus

 

I have most definitely been slacking in the blog department recently, but with good reason. What with weddings, holidays, new jobs this summer I’ve been hard pressed to find time to write about my, now not so recent, adventure in sunny Scotland, performing at Edinburgh Fringe 2014.

Despite the last minute ring around to organise a bed to sleep in for the duration of my performances in Edinburgh, by the time I got on the megabus I was getting excited to finally perform the piece I’d been working on for 2 months with LCP Dance Theatre. Drama ensued before we’d even left Victoria coach station as our youngest company member, Miranda, was unable to find the station and hence missed the bus. Frantic phone calls were made as directions were given and Miranda was instructed to ‘stop the bus’ by standing in the middle of the road if she saw it go past her. The hilarity of imagining Miranda standing in the road and using an arm gesture from the piece to stop the bus managed to entertain the rest of us for a good portion of the journey and the gesture and phrase it came from would from then on be referred to accordingly.

 

From the moment I got to Edinburgh I was mesmerised by the uniformity of the architecture, the majestic presence of the castle and the stunning natural landscape of the city and its surrounds. I journeyed through chic high streets and hilltop parks to find my beautiful new home for the week, in possibly the poshest street in Morningside. My extremely generous host whom I had never met before and was putting me up for free greeted me with maps of the city, pasta and a cosy attic room of her 3 storey Victorian mansion. Throughout the week I was left various notes and a couple of chores to do, such as hoovering the vast staircases, as payment for my lodging but when you have a comfy bed and two showers to choose from, and the alternative was camping in a forest without electricity or running water, who can complain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On our first full day in Ed we were scheduled to have our tech rehearsal at Spotlites@The Merchant Hall, our theatre for the week, at the shocking time of 6.30am. We all made it in from our various abodes and we were actually there earlier than theatre staff who seemed to resent us for having such an early tech, despite it being the theatre who organised our time slot. After three hours of debating various lighting states and positioning spotlights we were unceremoniously ejected from the venue via the backstage door, onto a refuse collection alleyway. I can only assume the theatre did this in order to prepare us for the nightly expulsion we would endure, after every performance, being given only 5 minutes to remove the audience, our props, our belongings, ourselves and sweep the stage. Although this system did make me angry as I worried about being forced into the cold Scottish rain after 1hr15mins of full out dancing, wearing nothing but some fishnet garments, I did appreciate that the theatre had to do this in order to fit in all the other shows into their jam-packed daily schedule. Of the 40 or so other shows on at our venue over the month, I got to see 4 of them, which doesn’t seem too good as a percentage but when you consider that that was four hours of mediocre/interesting comedy/theatre for free, I felt almost ready to forgive the theatre for their backstage behaviour.

During my time in Edinburgh I wanted to make the most of the 500 venues and 3000 shows the Fringe had to offer. After the early-morning tech I started my search for something interesting to watch and soon bumped into my friend Anna, who was flyering for her play which I attended that afternoon. A fantasticly endearing story of the relationships between Icelanders and British soldiers during the Second World War, complete with leaf blower to recreate the cold wind as anyone entered or exited the imaginary room. In stark contrast, later that day I was coerced into watching/falling asleep to a very amateur play about Scottish teenage girls and their troubles, reminding me of GCSE drama pieces, in which, with the exception of one stunning performance portraying a manic depressive, the acting left a lot to be desired. As the week went on, it got harder to find shows that a) looked good b) didn’t clash with our schedule and c) didn’t cost a fortune. I dragged two girls to a free comedy show called ‘Worst German Ever’ and then decided to splash out on a stunning spectacle called ‘Bianco’ by No Fit State Circus, which was so good it deserves its own blog post, coming soon.

Enough of other people’s shows, the main reason I was there was to perform with LCP Dance Theatre, along with an international cast of dancers and actors from Italy, France and Poland, raising awareness against human trafficking. As I exclaimed to many people whilst flyering, we were dancing to a narrative script based on a true story by Sophie Hayes, a survivor of human trafficking. The subject matter sometimes made me feel uncomfortable as we rehearsed scenes of violence and sexual exploitation but once performing in front of an audience it became easier to think of myself as a character and think about the emotions behind the situation. Obviously, in 8 renditions, the piece didn’t always run smoothly. From first-night fainting to last night prop malfunction, movement mess-ups to wardrobe mishaps and the awful tension of the narrator missing her entrance and skipping a whole scene, it wasn’t all plain sailing but each and every performance had an audience – who applauded, a cast who danced their socks off and a message which was hard to ignore.

The highs of receiving applause at the end of each performance were, of course, contrasted with the lows of flyering in the rain, an awful bladder infection and turmoil among the cast after a particularly unorganised street performance. On sunny days the lows were less likely as flyering on the royal mile became an enjoyable experience and prepping for a performance with yoga in the park was a viable option. It was the rainy days, which always seemed to coincide with our street performances, when things became a little tedious as we danced on a slippery outside stage, getting drenched whilst our potential audience ran for shelter, and then crammed into the Costa toilets to prepare our costume and make-up before braving the cold as we made our way to the theatre.

Highs and lows weighed up, and all things considered, it was a very enjoyable experience participating in the Fringe, both as a performer and audience member. The buzzing atmosphere, sketch shows, outrageous costumes and musical renditions that filled the streets brought a smile to my face whilst our own performances gave me the opportunity to do what I love, and for a great cause.

Some links for you:

My photos of the fringe and beautiful Edinburgh - https://www.facebook.com/eleanor.palmer.73/media_set?set=a.10154518519595301.1073741835.698710300&type=3

Images from 'AM I?' - https://www.facebook.com/LCPDanceTheatre/media_set?set=a.4884679442499.1073741825.1463028838&type=1

A review of our performhttps://www.facebook.com/LCPDanceTheatre/media_set?set=a.4884679442499.1073741825.1463028838&type=1ance - http://www.broadwaybaby.com/shows/am-i/699502

 

 

A world within a warehouse

Punchdrunk’s ‘The Drowned Man’

 

Even in terms of immersive theatre, this piece asked a lot of its audience; you were given a white mask to wear and told to create your own adventure by choosing where to explore independent of the people you came with. I had deliberately arrived alone in order to avoid the inevitable loss of friends in the sea of masked spectators. This decision may have contributed to a particularly unnerving experience from queuing to collect the tickets as if about to board a rollercoaster, to finding my way through the cramped dark corridors and being dropped off via elevator into separate areas of the dark world in which The Drowned Man was set.

From the caravan park to the dressing rooms, the snowy hillside to the cabaret bar – this was a masterpiece of world-creation through life-sized 3D sets you could have a nose around inside. Every caravan wall plastered with photos and newspaper clippings, every desk drawer filled with documents. A new reality in which your awareness of happenings beyond your immediate surroundings was heightened as you caught glimpses of characters flitting past you with a group of spectators in tow and announcements that a shooting of a scene had just been completed boomed around the maze of studios, you were always reminded that you were only witnessing a small part of the action.

The fearless performers also had much to contend with as the zealous audience crowded around them. They cleverly manipulated the audience with their movements and slipped through gaps in the circle created when they needed to exit. They rolled down snowy banks, wrestled on sofas and leaped between the roofs of caravans as they acted out fights and orgies, parties and breakdowns, all whilst the audience fought to be close enough to touch them.

For me, the setting was by far the most impressive part of the performance, the moments of stunning movement drowned out slightly by the constant confusion over which character to follow next, where you were and what on earth was going on in terms of the storyline. I witnessed a group scene twice and suddenly wondered if I had lost track of time, missed the ending of the performance and was now here for the second show that evening. I was later told that the narrative repeats itself three times within the show to give audience the opportunity to see different parts of the storyline, before the stunning finale with the full cast marks the end. The addition of the cabaret bar in which you might have found yourself after following a certain character at a certain time, in which you could remove your mask, buy a drink and enjoy some light entertainment, was an extremely clever way of including an interval for the audience without breaking the flow of the show or allowing the audience to fully step out of the characters’ world.  

Dance until Dusk

A glorious day at GDIF’s Greenwich Fair

  

 

 

 

 

A jam-packed festival of outdoor performances spanning theatre, circus and dance filled the picturesque grounds of two of Greenwich’s major attractions – The Old Royal Naval College and The Cutty Sark. Decorating the stunning backdrop, which was no doubt made especially pretty by the wonderfully blue skies, were an array of curious structures; sheds, tents, benches and specially designed sets whilst bunting and paper flowers adorned the trees and railings. A fantastic atmosphere, a slightly baffling but bursting schedule of repeated performances with a helpful variety of organised routes to guide you around a range of shows – which I only became aware of too late to join one – made for a weekend that allowed new audiences to experience uplifting, thought-provoking and jaw-dropping performances.

Despite my late arrival and bewildered perusing of the festival guide, I embraced my role as a member of the crowd scurrying from one performance site to the next and so I managed to catch a whole host of exciting displays. I’ll share with you some of my favourites, and, like many of the shows themselves, I will attempt to keep their reviews short and sweet. 

Airing their dirty laundry in public – literally

‘Laundry XL’ by Directie & Co. – a surprisingly powerful piece in which washer women invaded the audience’s space with their forceful bucket emptying and sheet flapping that left the audience soaked, covered in dust but chuckling nonetheless.

 

Balancing beauties

‘Bench’ by Mimbre – a simply stunning display of acrobalance skills and gymnastic tricks, accompanied by a variety of costume changes for the 3 energetic performers, producing a theatrical narrative revolving around a park bench and the characters that might frequent it. We meet fitness freaks, bag ladies, hoodies and a bride but for me the real theatre came from their daring execution of highly precarious and jaw-dropping aerial work using only one another as support.  

Loving life

‘Frantic’ by Acrojou – the proverbial hamster wheel of the daily grind is set before us as we witness its inhabitant’s hysterical plethora of activities. The sands of time fall from his clothing as the wheel is stripped to reveal a wheel of life, mesmerisingly rocking between the newly acquainted couple who climb over, glide through and flip on the swaying structure. The joyous finale of full bodied leaps and turns under a fountain of water spurting from the wheel brought a smile to my face as the performers celebrated life and companionship.

 

Voluntary labour

‘Pelat’ by Joan Catala – a theatrical demonstration of intense physical skill as one man manipulates and balances a log on his back. The crowd that built a ring around him unexpectedly became part of the minimalist circus event as he set the log off on a journey around the audience and taught the crowd chants. He chose four strong men to train in the art of log carrying, scarf spinning and rope tying. All of this he did, without uttering a single English word, before he finally put his trust in them as they manouvered the log to a vertical position and he scaled its length to stand on the tiny pillar, held steady by four complete strangers. A heart-stopping moment in a thoroughly entertaining piece of participatory theatre that examined male physicality and hard labour.

 Bus Stop Shenanigans

‘Full Stop’ by Light the Fuse – a witty romp through a day in the life of a London bus shelter where ravers party on, commuters queue, lovers meet, a granny causes a bomb scare and most amusingly yummy mummy’s declare war. A fantastic soundtrack brought each scene to life as did the three animated performers.

 

Sorry, my camera had run out of battery by this point!

Words and Whispers

Theo Clinkard’s intimate and sensational double-bill - ‘Of Land and Tongue’

 

As I walked into the main hall of Greenwich Dance Agency, which I so often frequent of a morning for professional technique class, I was stunned by this familiar space’s transformation from stark floor-boarded expanse to invitingly cosy sharing capsule formed by a diamond of bright white dance floor encircled by tall stage lights and rows of seating on two sides. As I took to my cushioned seat I examined the two figures in one corner of the floor, one of whom I instantly recognised as Theo himself – having taken his class in this very room before. Both were balancing precariously on uneven pieces of white stone that I assumed must be natural chalk, considering the title of the first performance ‘Chalk’. 

The second performer, James Keane, reminding me of a mad scientist in glasses and a blue boiler suit, left the floor and headed for the technical desk behind to begin his aural experimentation, leaving Theo, dressed all in cream, balancing on his rock. He upended a white table and placed a tiny plasticine figure on top of it, like a man on top of a cliff, as I automatically linked the word chalk with the iconic white cliffs of Dover. As Theo began to move I related his effortless yet precise motion to the clarity within nature and man’s place within it. It was a joy to watch as he spiraled, rolled and directed his limbs with such controlled power in such close proximity to the audience. He stood the table before a section of audience, stood on it, pulled his shirt over his head and repeatedly tripped over his hands until he lay across it. He laid on his back and explained that he lived in sight of the tallest chalk cliffs in England.

All the while, the second performer was creating a live sound score recording the noise as he manipulated objects such as a Sainsbury’s bag (which we were later told was in fact 10% chalk), the white rocks they had initially balanced on and, most disturbingly, a bulb of celery which he had cracked and twisted to accompany Theo’s back and arm contortions which together produced an image of breaking bones, especially as we had just heard that chalk is effectively made of ancient marine life skeletons. Just in case you hadn’t quite got this connection between chalk and bone – man and his environment, Theo donned a fetching black cat-suit with a life size skeleton printed on the front, at which point the lights were dimmed and the glow in the dark bones danced along the two rows of audience, ending in a furious breakdown close to my feet. Chinese whispers were then sent along the rows of audience regarding the records of people jumping of the aforementioned cliffs and the chemical make-up of the Sainsbury’s bag, giving the audience a moment to enjoy each other’s presence and a feeling of being in the loop with this researchful duo. 

For me, ‘Chalk’ conjured an image of purity and physical reality, not only through the precision of the movement and the texture within the live sound but in the stark yet beautiful lighting which shifted around the room like the sun in the sky at different times of day. At one moment a light would shine across my view – lighting one side of the performers, then it would jump in front of me and I would see only silhouettes, or it would come from behind and every detail of the figure moving before me would be illuminated. This simple yet influential lighting design, by none other than Guy Hoare, defined and epitomized this piece as a display of nature’s unobtrusive yet powerful character and man’s small part within it.

If ‘Chalk’ was a whisper of a work then ‘Of Land and Tongue’, the second performance in the evening of the same name, was a chatter between friends as five vibrant performers played host to the affable audience with their joyous dancing, amusing skits, sensorial props and intriguingly intimate interactions with its members. At moments I felt as if I was watching the piece as one listens to a conversation without knowing what it is about – but as I sat patiently for it all to become clear I was eventually let in on the secret.

To begin, a performer presented the four lucky audience members seated adjacent to me with a table laden with wine, cheese, biscuits and grapes. She introduced herself as Camilla and poured each of them a drink whilst asking their names. Meanwhile, in other parts of the stage, a couple were holding a fan and spraying a water bottle in front of it – misting the performer who had instructed them to do so, another audience member was competing against a performer – both cutting out shapes from black pieces of card, like making a paper snowflake, which would later be used as a light filter to produce a pattern of shadows over a performer. At some point each performer came over to the refreshment table and was awkwardly introduced to the lucky wine drinkers by Camilla – although she kept forgetting their names. A strip of turf was rolled out as one performer stood in her swimming costume, being misted by the fan and water bottle. A duet of effortless lifts occurred between her and a male performer who, later, in contrast, performed a comical pas de deux of mishaps in which the male kept trying to aid the female’s movement but continually just got in her way, resulting in a myriad of colliding body parts.

The piece continued to fluctuate between scenes of comical value, touching solos and moments of task-orientated audience participation and I began to wonder what it all meant. I had been informed by one of the performers, at the beginning of the piece, that they had been researching words from different languages that are untranslatable but as of yet I hadn’t heard any. I began to get frustrated as the theatrical snippets occurred without any obvious thread between them. Camilla asked an audience member to rub Vix under her eyes to make it look like she had been crying, a male performer allowed two audience members to stick cocktail sticks into his full beard, every performer simultaneously found music on audience members’  phones to play into each of their headphones and sing along to with abundant gusto. I briefly forgot my confusion when the group performed a staccato sequence of delicately placed gestures that drew me in and calmed my frantic mind as it searched for answers to the rest of the action.

The answers finally came, after an explosion of bouncy almost disco-like dancing the group split and whilst two girls created a web of string between another performer and members of the audience cards were distributed to the rest of the audience. It was an anthology of all the untranslatable words that had been used in the performance along with an approximation of their meaning. As the performers and an assortment of audience members manipulated the web of string and sang in a foreign language we were finally able to link all that we had just seen with the words they had been depicting. It was a fabulous moment of realisation that extended well past the end of the performance as I read down the card and remembered how I had seen that word brought to life. I won’t try to explain any of them now but here is a photo of the card, from which you might be able to make sense of some of the action I described above.  But as the last word on the list proposes, beauty does not lie in explanation but in suggestion of things 'beyond what can be said' as this work demonstrates so well.

 

Cutting to the Chase

A review of new performance event ‘Clear-Cut’

 

Performing my current participatory performance work ‘Photographic Memory’ as part of ‘Clear-Cut’ provided me with, not only a platform to test out my latest idea which, as my ideas generally do, relied heavily upon the audience’s involvement, but an opportunity to support and fully appreciate the bold new works of my friends and colleagues creation, free of charge.

There was a relaxed yet buzzing atmosphere as, thanks to some beautifully designed and well-distributed advertising material, we packed out the back area of The Duke pub with an intrigued audience whom I chatted with as I waited nervously for my piece to be announced.

First-off, the audience were invited to visit a durational exploration by Sally Smithson, taking place in the enclosed back courtyard throughout the evening. In small groups, the audience could enter and observe as a solitary figure engaged with the activity of manipulating chairs using only the facets of the space, her body and a ball of string. By the time I dropped into this outdoor laboratory Sally’s investigation had produced a pile of tangled lengths of string, indicating that her current venture attempting to hang two chairs from her back was not her first and would not be her last – what had each of those lengths been used for? Despite the imaginative and delicate forms she was creating from her chosen objects, the most intriguing element of the performance was in fact her concentration, her almost disturbing focus upon the objects she was handling blocking out all perception of the audience members moving in and out of the space, the advancing darkness and cold and the passing of time.

I can’t really comment on my piece but after a shaky technical-issue-style start I got into my role as reminiscer and incessant maker of memories, armed with my new instant camera, and fully enjoyed performing, taking snaps of me and my audience members with which they made a collage. See what you think here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eF6cbN2O3U

 

Next onto the stage came a comedy act disguised as a documentary surrounding a fictitious choreographer and the creation of his latest work ‘Freedomality’. A mocking of various choreographers and their temperamental attitudes and eccentric techniques, the piece combined scripted theatre, live and filmed dance demonstrations. An interviewer questioned the choreographer through a mock video link, despite his live presence behind the monitor extending gestures that were not seen in the TV frame. Two dancers acted out scenes from the rehearsal process as the choreographer described them, including the vague improvisational audition task, the over-enthusiastic contact work partnering and literal naming of movements such as ‘air-con’, ‘freedom’ and ‘birdy’. The choreographer entered the rehearsal scenes to give instructions culminating in barking the various movement names whilst hitting the dancers with a pillow until feathers filled the stage. Perhaps some of the jokes would have been lost on non-dancing members of the audience who hadn’t been to auditions or worked with demanding choreographers but it was certainly a spectacle to watch two people throw themselves around at the demand of another as actual choreographers Sarah Vaughan Jones and Alicia Meehan bravely commented on the ridiculousness of both dancers’ willingness to please and some choreographers’ pretentious expectation of such.  

The final performance of the evening 'Serve somebody' was a visual and musical delight that also produced an uplifting final message that incidentally summarized the whole evening’s purpose as a platform for emerging artists. Singer/songwriter Anguz honestly addressed the audience whilst sat at his keyboard and explained his and fellow performer Sarah’s struggle as artists in London. He then invited each audience member to write a simple idea of how to overcome this struggle whilst he played his first song, which of course appealed to my love of participation. His hat was left centre stage for the notes to be placed in, reminiscent of a busker’s money pot whilst Sarah danced behind a white translucent screen ripped into 3 horizontal strips that reflected projected silhouette images of a waitress polishing glasses or an office worker at a desk. During the next funky tune Sarah chose suggestions from the hat and wrote them on the screen for everyone to read – above her earlier writing ‘the next step is’. Suggestions such as ‘KFC?’ were crossed out whilst ‘go on tour’ was briefly enacted and then circled. Eventually, during the final rendition of Anguz’ playful composition, Sarah cut out letters from some of the options, stitched them together using a sewing machine positioned behind the screen until, at the final few notes she hung up the word ‘temporary’, a poignant message to all the artists in the room that the struggle is not forever and there is no right next step, only a sea of continuously changing options that could lead to calmer times.

To find your own uplifting experience watch the piece here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-xadUtXidg

After all that long-winded, not remotely cutting to the chase, description, let me simply say that the evening cut through some of the underwhelming, ambiguous and rather boring new work that I have recently encountered and carved a path for daring, unconventional and downright interesting performances that I would pay good money to see more of.

Application, application, application

The endless process

 

Between rehearsals and pub work, I seem to spend most of my time searching for, applying to and waiting for replies from various dance companies, agencies and funding bodies. Even whilst writing this I have just heard back from one application and I am putting off starting another.

The search is generally a simple task (thanks to the good old internet) involving clicking on a link in an e-bulletin, scrolling through online audition boards or finding an opportunities page on a company website. The application process can be much more taxing with long application guidelines to read, decisions to be made on which CV version, photos or show reel to attach, other supporting video evidence to edit, upload and embed, not to mention the composing of your cover letter, proposal or personal statement/blatant self-promotional essay to get absolutely perfect.

It all gets rather monotonous and I begin to lose track of which opportunities I’ve applied for (I try to keep lists, I try). Depending on my mood I can spend hours or even days querying whether or not I should apply based on how likely I might be to succeed, how the proposed rehearsals will fit into my schedule or whether it’s something I would even enjoy being a part of. After all this contemplation it would be much more efficient to simply apply and question the details at a later stage, if of course I am fortunate enough to be granted a later stage in that particular application process.

However, it is the waiting for/lack of/content within a response to an application that can be most aggravating. I do appreciate the odd confirmation of receipt of application which I occasionally receive although a further email indicating whether my application has been successful would be wonderful too, I really don’t like to be kept in the dark. Some well-organized companies give dates on which you will hear back or if there has been an audition date published you can use that as a final deadline for correspondence. The infrequent emails marked RE: application that do land in my inbox cause a momentary flutter of excitement before the rejection message is opened, skim read and psychologically swept under the rug for safe keeping until I have a sufficient collection and am in a suitable environment to despair over them. Is a definite rejection more helpful than mystifying silence? Of course, reading that ‘you have not been selected this time’ is heartbreaking and the customary explanation that ‘the position attracted a large number of high-quality applicants’ is not particularly constructive for my future applications. However, being completely ignored implies that your application, which you may have spent considerable time on, was not worthy of casting director, choreographer or administrator’s time to add you as a recipient to a mass reply email.

 

But you mustn't start to believe that is true, you must carry on writing about all the skills and experience one has until someone gives you the opportunity to actually demonstrate it. And if it doesn't work out just remember:

 

“Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure.”
― George E. Woodberry

The Mad Month of May

Roll up, roll up, get your tickets here!

 

It’s all go this month – alongside the usual classes, applications, auditions and rehearsals, I have premier showings of three different projects, that I’ve been working on for varying amounts of time. Hence why, I have to be honest with you, this is less of a blog post and more of a shameless plug for these upcoming performances, with some behind-the-scenes commentary thrown in. As they are all independent projects by up and coming choreographers my advertising is essential in the hope of conjuring up a nice big audience to create some buzz at each event. And so I begin…

 

The first and last of the performances this month will be with Experiential, a new dance company set up by friend and colleague Rachel Johnson. We will be showing our experience based work ‘Bridging the Void’ in two different contexts; at Dance Springs this Saturday, as part of a mixed bill of dance and technology stage works, and then in a less formal, immersive, singular presentation, as part of the Brighton Fringe. These events have definitely had the longest build up, having developed and rehearsed the piece over a period of 4 months, far longer than most mainstream performances have to come together. The process has involved four trips to Primrose Hill at unmentionably early hours of the morning to be inspired by, capture and dance in front of the beautiful/wondrous/occasionally disappointing moment of sunrise. As the absolute opposite of a morning person I was not looking forward to these trips but in the end I have managed to appreciate the everyday phenomenon of sunrise which proves that it is the simplest things in life that can be the most rewarding. I’m sure my choreographer won’t mind me saying that the rest of the rehearsal period hasn’t always been so magnificent – dancing in a tiny windowless room with a dirty concrete floor, being kicked out of the more pleasant studios we tried to sneak into and having devised, tweaked and then completely scrapped movement material – we have certainly earned our place in the performance. After a full day dress rehearsal yesterday, and high praise from Anna, our breath producer and the latest addition to the piece, I can safely say that the end product is an at-first intriguing and by the finish breath-taking sensory experience.

To get tickets:

http://www.experientialdance.com/buy-tickets/

 

 

The second performance of the month is possibly the exact opposite of the first, a rushed job, a solo and much less beautiful. ‘Photographic Memory’ is a work of my own creation, well, it will be of my creation when I’ve finished it. I shall be performing this quirky little collage of ideas surrounding the framing, capturing and revisiting of moments from life, that photographic technology has facilitated, on 22^nd May as part of ‘Clear Cut’ – a newly curated night of visual and performance art at The Duke. The idea for the piece stems from my previous work for my MA last year examining the spectaclization of self in everyday life so although the idea has had time to develop it’s realization has been to the last-minute by my control freak standards. I have managed to acquire my old baby-photo book, a wooden picture frame and a Polaroid camera for the production but as yet have not been able to find adequate rehearsal time/space or cheap enough Polaroid film to complete the making process. Watch this space for the final thoughts on the works development and come along to the event to see it in action. It is destined to be a diverse and hilarious night of thought-provoking works if I know my co-artists like I think I do.

Flyers have arrived!

 

And finally, the penultimate show in May is the highly anticipated new work by another MA graduate and successful Resolutions! Choreographer Chloe Aliyanni. I was extremely excited to begin this project having narrowly missed out on being a dancer in her final project piece ‘Meteora’, and after the first few weeks of rehearsals I am still very enthusiastic about the performance, confident that ‘Intersection’ will be both interesting and perfectly formed. Developed through Chloe’s thorough research into the significance of numbers in both mathematics and world religions, the piece will be performed on 31^st May at Heath Street Baptist Church, Hampstead. The seven company dancers are a diverse lot from all over Europe, some I have danced with before during my time at Laban, others I am connecting with for the first time. My partner, for a duet based on the polarity and conflict that the number two represents, Neus, has been great to work with as she is not afraid to tell me what I need to change or what ideas she has, her forthright nature allows for efficient creation and rehearsal. The reintroduction to contact choreography this project has offered, after my past few solo projects, has been a breath of fresh air. As we move together in a contemporary dance caterpillar I feel a satisfying identity as part of a creative ensemble that supports and develops one another.

Invitation coming soon!

So if you fancy a sense of sunrise, some spiritual sums or a trip down memory lane then pop along to the theatre, cinema, church or pub to catch one of these interesting events. Have a peek into my weird and wonderful world that is contemporary dance, you never know what you might find.

On Contact

Body parts and friends in the arts

Rehearsal with Chloe Aligianni and Co.

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.

As I gently massaged the shoulders of a 6ft man in a vest top whom I had merely smiled at in class by way of greeting I thought a) I should probably do this for my boyfriend more often and b) dance is a strange but wonderful profession in which you rub up your potential colleagues rather than email them. In this world of contactless payment cards, internet dating and online shopping, physical contact is becoming increasingly scarce in daily life yet as a dancer it is an important part of my practice.

In Renaud Wiser’s technique class that morning the act of massaging one another was used as a warm up, to get our bodies ready for the challenging movement material, getting to feel free and easy (as Julie Andrews might sing). Physical interaction finds its way into dance in many other forms from contact improvisation to choreographed duet and group work and provides a great sense of community within a class, rehearsal or performance together with infinite choreographic possibilities. In rehearsals for a new work, by friend and MA choreography colleague Chloe Aligianni, we have been creating resistance and release duets that become physical confrontations between two bodies. The process has seen me repeatedly head-butted in the stomach, climbed on, my foot used as a headrest and my pelvis as a tripod. I have pushed, pulled, jumped over and fallen on my partners and yet we still like each other and in fact have developed friendships through this exercise. Even in open professional classes in which you may never have met the person you touch you can create short-lived relationships as you physically negotiate with one another in order to fulfil the task. It has to be said that this experience can vary greatly depending on the task and the other dancer involved as I found in Charlie Morissey’s contact improvisation workshop. As I seamlessly gave and received weight with one partner I found myself struggling to keep up with another or feeling mutually unsure of what to do with someone else. But however successful or otherwise the partnership turns out to be, you go through a shared experience and navigate the task and each other simultaneously.

Bodies in urban spaces by Willi Dorner

 

But these physical exchanges are but secondary to the importance of making social contact within the dance industry. The acquaintances you make in any given setting; be it a contact improvisation class, an audition or even a social event unrelated to your field where you might just bump into someone who knows someone else in the business, are the key to finding work. As I have so often and so unnecessarily been told ‘it’s not what you know, it’s who you know’. I am well aware of this annoyingly accurate fact but a simple awareness of such will not gain you entry into the perilous professional dance network. You must be constantly active, seeking out new ways to meet and become associates of potential collaborators and employers, signing up to endless mailing lists to stand a chance of staying up to date with the latest networking events and building numerous online profiles on various virtual platforms to feel part of this work-hungry artistic community. You cannot simply turn up to an audition knowing nothing about the choreographer – you must have at least taken their company class a few times or maybe even been an apprentice dancer for them already. I don’t see myself as much of a brown-noser and so although I attend many current choreographers’ classes I find it difficult to introduce myself and blatantly compliment their work at the end of class in order to stick in their mind.

Do not despair - I am not completely associate-less. The greatest advantage my MA in Choreography has granted me is not what I learnt on the course but the determined and talented colleagues I had the opportunity to work alongside and become friends with along the way. I am now dancing for two of my fellow MA Choreography graduates and am performing my own work in an event curated by a third. (Details of performance events in next post).

Despite these rewarding collaborations I am still looking for more projects. As I stood in the extraordinarily long queue for the Hofesh Shechter apprentice audition (a great example of an audition in which you probably didn’t stand a chance if you hadn’t at least been to some of his workshops) I got chatting to a fellow auditionee who happened to currently be performing in the touring production of Wicked – I was in awe already! She had also worked in opera’s at the ROH and as I mentioned that I had auditioned for an opera she offered me the email address of the ROH casting director. Despite not being able to make my eventual time-slot at the audition I felt it hadn’t been a completely wasted queuing experience as I had met an inspirational person and gotten a new avenue to explore. Now I just have to work on getting to know what to say (another Julie Andrews lyric) when casually dropping this casting director an email, as she suggested.

 

Snapshots and Lindy Hop

A day in the life of an aspiring dancer

My auditioning techniques haven’t been getting me too far lately so I’ve decided to take steps in a different direction that I’ve been thinking of for a while – the direction of commercial dance i.e getting an agent. And before I can do this I need a new dance portfolio – and more skills for my C.V.

Thursday 20^th March, the day of my portfolio photo shoot, turned out to be one of those surreal days in which you go to new areas, try new activities and meet so many interesting people along the way that you feel like a completely different person. It started with a rush-hour underground trip to Victoria for a 9.15am hairdresser appointment – a surreal event in itself for me as I loathe both early mornings and haircuts. I arrived twenty minutes early in nervous anticipation, chatting to the manager for a while before my stylist arrived. My stylist, although lovely, got rather annoyed at my insisting to see her blow-dry curling efforts before she had finished. I just wanted to be sure I liked it before she painstakingly curled my whole abundant head of hair. Thankfully, she was not only lovely but very skilled and I walked out of the shop quietly confident that my hair looked better than it ever had before.

I travelled positively to my next stop of the day – which happened to be the final stop on the district line – Ealing Broadway – in other words, blooming far away! I navigated my way through the tree-lined rows of million-pound houses to find my photographer’s studio-come-apartment. I expected Titus to be either overly camp or overly American, owing to his name alone, but he was neither. A genuinely friendly guy, he guided me through the process of taking a good headshot – smiling with the eyes and leaving the rest to his highly technical camera and lighting. I commandeered his sofa as my temporary wardrobe as I had brought an array of outfits with which to create a portfolio that showed versatility, as I had been told was the aim. Titus had warned me that any movement shots may take hours to get right but the few I had planned seemed to work pretty well first time and after a couple of attempts with different camera angles I was very happy with them – maybe I’m just not much of a perfectionist. However, the two hours I had booked seemed to whizz by and so when Titus offered me an extra hour, for a fraction of what I paid for the first two, in order to finish the list of looks I had planned, I couldn’t resist. I’m very glad I didn’t as the final set of images taken outside have now become my favourites and were the most fun to shoot. Walking down the middle of the street in a floaty dress and giant sunhat with a photographer in front of me, I had a momentary sense of idealized stardom.

On a photographic high, I rushed back to Greenwich, as much as one can rush on an extended tube journey, for a two hour rehearsal that should have brought me back down to reality as I had these rehearsals twice a week. Instead my colleagues showered me with compliments on my unusually made up appearance and we danced for the first time with a projection of sunrise that we made earlier that month.

So with my hold-all of outfits still in tow I met a friend from work, took a train to another unfamiliar destination and went in search of one more new experience to round the day off nicely. I wanted to gain some new skills to my dance repertoire, to aid my chances of getting work in the commercial world, and to simply try something new. I had recently applied to a casting looking for Lindy Hop dancers, despite my closest encounter with the dance form being watching professionals perform it on Strictly, but this had encouraged me to seek out a class to give it a whirl. My friend agreed to come with me, an actress with experience in Jive dancing, I thought she’d be the perfect dance partner. We reached the Royston club feeling rather glad of each other’s company as there was no sign of a class and only a couple of men playing darts in one corner of an expansive stale-smoke-smelling bar. I asked at the bar and we were informed that the class was upstairs but it didn’t start for an hour – a classic case of a) allowing far too much time for the journey to unknown destination and b) believing what you read on a neglected website. The ballroom upstairs was much more airy and reminded me of my old town festival hall with white drapes covering the ceiling and a small stage at one end. The teacher was lovely, although I found his teaching style rather slow but apparently it was week one of a 10 week beginner programme so perhaps that was to be expected. Throughout the class we rotated partners, having been separated into men and women at the beginning, a surprising amount of old men meant that the men outnumbered the women, another rarity in my experience of any dance event. Some were had more rhythm than others but were all hilarious to watch as my friend negotiated the steps with them.

 At the end of the class the disco lights were turned on and swing music played, at which point the men came up and asked the ladies to dance – it was like stepping back in time to an era of male chivalry. I learnt a lot from a more experienced member of the group as he improvised with me although the alien concept of letting the man lead was rather difficult to stick to, especially when some over-enthusiastic partners felt the need to spin me quite forcefully no matter what part of the step pattern I was on. It was definitely a lot of fun dancing to such jolly music and I can imagine with the right partner I would love it – it’s a shame my friend and I never got to dance together due to our common gender.

So from celebrity lifestyle to old-fashioned values, today I’d got a sneak peek into lives from the past and hopefully my future in the world of show business.

 

Auditioning - an art form

My take on dance auditions

The audition – an opportunity, a test, just a free class (well hopefully free). No matter how you view an audition there is still an inevitable sense of nerves as you enter a room full of other hopeful candidates and face a set of judges that will decide which of these will graduate from hopeful to successful.

In the past 3 months I have built up the courage to attend six auditions (there have been others I haven’t felt able to), and with another big audition coming up on Saturday for the infamous Hofesh Shechter company, I felt it would be a good time to analyse my progress in the professional practice of ‘auditioning’.

Like any other art form it takes practice to become a master – but yet every time you practice auditioning you are also performing the work of art. There is no trial run, no dress rehearsal, no mock attempt. And finding opportunities in which to practice your technique can be extremely difficult as so many auditions call for an application process that decreases your chances of even being invited to show what you can do. This is why the majority of auditions I have frequented have been ‘open’ – anyone can turn up, but with this comes some of the worst possible aspects of audition practice. Long hours of queuing in all weathers – listening to your competitors chatter about their agents and their work at Harrods or similar, large sweaty rooms filled to bursting with sequin-and-fishnet-clad women all attempting to stretch in a Tetris configuration and the overwhelming sense that you are as invisible as the minimal air around you are all symptomatic of the open-to-the-world audition.

From my experience of these situations and watching other people around me I have come up with the following techniques for the art form that is auditioning:

·         Wear something you feel comfortable in, that shows your figure and you are able to move in – trust me, worrying about your ever-increasing wedgy or your nipples being on show severely decreases your ability to dance

·         Be prepared for everything – take your C.V and headshot - even if you’ve already sent it by email, take all your different dance shoes – just because you’re going to a ballet audition doesn’t mean they might not want you to show them your tap, take lots of food – I know you think you’ll be out in the first round but if you get through the whole day you’ll be starving by the end. And if you can sing – take sheet music just in case!

·         In freestyle sections be different, but not too different – keep in the style of the routine but throw in some signature moves – but nothing that takes too much time to get into or out of

·         Be confident, but not cocky. You don’t want to annoy anyone.

·         Be attentive but not nerdy – asking lots of questions is again just annoying for everyone around you.

·          Always walk out with your head held high, even if you were the only one they didn’t pick out of your group – at least you tried.

To heaven and back

Apocrifu by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui

Queen Elizabeth Hall, 25^th Jan 2014

 

Larbi’s latest show stopping masterpiece is an intense experience for the viewer that combines the intricate solemn tones of a Corsican male choir, the unique and varying physicalities of himself and his two collaborating performers and a wealth of original choreographic techniques to visualise and interpret the effect of religious and secular scripture on the life of its readers. Stunning snake-like floor work from acrobat Dimitri Jourde, which left me wondering if he actually had any bones in his body, complements the signature stomach-turning flexibility of Larbi himself whilst the balletic solos from Yasuyuki Shuto feel a little out of place.

The stage and its inhabitants are surrounded by books that represent the texts referred to in the title of the piece. Larbi throws down book after book from the pile he cradles to form stepping stones to carry him across the stage in order to offer a text to his fellow performers. The performers throw the books at each other, bash them against their own heads and pass them between their hands in a dizzyingly complicated sequence visually reminiscent of a multi-limbed Hindu goddess. All of these moments in which the books subjugate the body suggest that scriptures and the supress their readers. At one point Larbi tries to explain to the audience some of the discrepancies within such scriptures as the Bible and the Qur’an.

The architecture of the stage space is dominated by a large wooden stairway on the left hand-side, framing the space whilst creating religious connotations to the action that occurs on it. The performance is first established by the image of a performer gradually descending the staircase with a limp upper body, whilst serenaded by the vocalists, representing the foundation of much scripture – a messiah being sent down from Heaven to Earth. Similarly, in the final moments of the piece two performers ascend the staircase quietly and exit into Heaven before Larbi follows to the top of the staircase and then abandons his fellow believers and jumps off, rejecting the idea of life after death.

Despite the visually comedic scenes of a puppet beating up its puppeteers and the incessant passing of books and swords between flailing arms the visual highlight of the piece for me was a rolling duet in which Larbi and Jourde become attached at the neck, their heads always facing the audience, who are never quite sure which belongs to which body, as they wrap themselves around, support and rely on each other. Of course, even without such images, the performance would be a pleasure to encounter thanks to the seven harmonising voices of the choir, whose verbal chants and accompanying humming echo around the hall with unparalleled gravitas.