A BRIEF HISTORY OF DIFFERENCE BLOG #2
Lessons Learned
5 minute read
Jo, Ga, Becky and I have just finished 2 weeks of intense work on A Brief History of Difference in the Riverfront basement. Marketing Meg has also been labouring away and we’ve started to hook up with the wider team, Clare (BSL interpretater), AD Meg (Audio Describer), Ceri (Tech Wizard) and Gemma and Jamie from the Riverfront. Marega, who is in India having her own adventure, comes to work with me each day in the form of an amulet made of sequined fabric and googly eyes which she gave to me as a heart protector. Jo and I ran a free workshop in the first week to which everyone who put their name down turned up. I mean they really, truly turned up. My brother has also made a disembodied appearance in the form of a voice message containing instructions to a childhood dance piped into the basement through the sound system.
This the most challenging and satisfying job I’ve ever had. It’s also the most collaborative. I don’t really see myself as a natural team player so I wasn’t sure how that would work.
Lesson 1: when you work with people who have different jobs, talents and personalities but a shared commitment to a common goal, it can be magic.
We now have 2 weeks before we go back into the studio to rehearse ahead of opening night on 21 February. During this time Becky will work on the design and making of the set/exhibit. Meg, Clare and Ceri will begin to get their heads around what this show is /could be and what that might mean for them. Me, Jo and Ga will work on other things. Got to earn a living, right? For me that means co-running a creative workshop in prison, marking essays, and sitting on fitness to practice panels for the Nursing and Midwifery Council. It’s a lot given the fact I also have lines to learn and moves to practice.
Lesson 2: if I ever get the opportunity to do something like this again, opt for poverty over pay in the ‘breaks’.
I am probably kidding myself here – humans are great at that, aren’t we? – but I think I know myself pretty well. I know that I if I don’t understand what is required of me and why it is required of me, I struggle, sometimes to the point of tears. I know that I desire clear instructions and that this isn’t always possible when you’re working in a creative environment. I know that if I’m asked to do too many things at once I can feel overwhelmed to the point where it physically hurts. My co-creators have accommodated these traits with great care and compassion. Nevertheless, the pressure is real because we all want the show to be the best it can be.
I also know that once I am knocked off course emotionally, it can take hours or even a day or two before equilibrium is restored. I can go from a sparkly, outgoing and fun version of myself to introverted and depressed within a matter of seconds but never the other way round. Or at least that’s what I thought about myself because that’s how it has always been.
Lesson 3: under the right conditions, that chain reaction can be reversed.
A reversal happened last week when, in tears, I told Ga I didn’t think I could do this. “How about trying to enjoy it?”, he suggested. I thought, go on then, I’ll try. I asked him to play one of my favourite songs (Lips by Micachu if you’re interested) through the sound system. I felt my body start to bounce. It’s a really bouncy track. Something shifted. I think I might be learning how to be a performer. Maybe.
This show is full of fine lines. My face, body and stuff are all over the posters. The show incorporates all that and draws upon a number of stories from my life. And yet it is not a work of autobiography. I would use the term autoethnography to describe it. It’s a term I’ve used in an academic research context but I’m not sure if it has currency with the arts and theatre making. Autoethnographic work draws on the specifics of a person’s life (mine in this case) to illustrate, illuminate, reveal, explore (I love all those words) aspects of the world that effect every one of us. I’m talking about the visible and invisible mechanisms that determine what we are, what we have been, what people expect of us, what we are lumbered with. But also, where the opportunities for resistance, rebellion and change might lie. And so, in terms of show content we decided that a conversation with my late dad is out (too specific to me) but details of my strange dating history are in (also specific to me but speaks to the limitations of words and categories relating to sexual orientation, which is relevant to everyone).
Lesson 4: My PhD with its strange, largely unmarketable methodology was not a waste of time!
We’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the nature of difference. Is everyone a little bit different? Are some people more different than others? Are some types of difference weightier than others? How do differences connected to how bodies look and function compare to an uneasy sense of feeling odd or out of place in someone who looks the same as the majority of people? As a team, we are good at coming up with questions so I’m sure there’ll be loads more to come.
Lesson 5: A lot of thinking, questioning and careful consideration is stitched into the seams of a show that lasts just over an hour
I think the biggest concern/question of all for me is this: How will we know if we’ve got this right? There are certain things we can try out and I can practice and learn before opening night. But ultimately, we won’t know how it lands until there are people in the room. Here’s an example of what I’m thinking about in this respect. In the days when I went to the theatre but had never been involved in making or performing a show, I avoided anything that threatened audience participation. I hated the idea of being ‘dragged up’ to do something embarrassing and didn’t even like the idea of watching other members of an audience having to interact with the performers. Now I’m in this world and, whilst I want to protect people from feeling embarrassed, I also want them to have an opportunity to join in, participate, help me out and have fun. I’d like someone who thinks they wouldn’t want to participate in a show have an opportunity to change their mind half way through. Changing your mind is such a joy, sometimes. It can have a positive affect your whole body.
Lessons 6 and 7: Working out how to care for ourselves and the audience whilst leaving space for mind changing, shape shifting, bravery and kindness is the finest of all the lines and a work in progress.
Making a show is an act of faith.