Reflecting back and moving forward

After performing the first 17 minutes of One at First in 3 at Northern Stage on Thursday 7 March I found myself hoping that everyone else thought that went as well as I did. It wasn't perfect - that's not what Scratch is for - but I didn't cough (bloody thing kicked off 10 mins before hand) or throw up (food and drink on stage plus nerves make for a potent cocktail), which was a good start.

I got some laughs in the places I hoped for them but more importantly it felt good to be up there. I like the more live arty moments, the more dark and surreal. I like the fact that a lot of the text plays on more than one level.

Like I said, it wasn't perfect. There is a lot to be learned. I messed up on some audience interaction. I picked on the first person I saw and unfortunately she was someone who works at the venue. She was also clearly uncomfortable and in the moment I didn't do enough to help her. I could almost hear Kate Fox's voice in my ear... It was played too much to the room and was too general when some of it could have been used to really talk to people. Some of that was nerves and all of it can be learned from.

The tapes are clunky but I hope not too distracting. I still believe they are the right thing to have. They tie in to a certain nostalgia. They are imperfect and fit in with the idea that I am in control of my environment; that I have everything I need to populate my world. But I also need to be able to flip that idea and bring the audience in. I don't want to keep making the same point. 

It will be very interesting to read the feedback. To see what people saw, liked, wanted more of and no doubt some of the stuff they didn't. I hope the majority of it is as positive as I felt coming out of the show.

Lots to think about. 

A post show dissection with Ellie Harrison on Friday and I was still feeling good. I'm at a place where I feel I can stop retreading the same ground and move on. This hopefully means I can try something totally new at Transform in April, which would be riskier but more useful to me. I think I am past the making stage and can now look forward to structuring, rehearsing, molding, learning and polishing. It feels like a I am entering a new phase in the project.

An outside eye - working with Ellie Harrison

On Friday 15 February I had a very different, but no less productive, day with Ellie Harrison at The Carriageworks.

Ellie is acting as an outside eye on the show and I find her particularly helpful when it comes to thinking about the ideas and especially about the structure of the piece. We spent a lot of time pouring over the various bits of 'material', written, tried and tested, physical, musical and totally untried to get a sense of what I have. There was a lot.

Ellie asked a lot of probing questions including the hardest of all to answer; "What am I trying to say?"

She told me that I was being too harsh on myself and at the same time not hard enough... And yet, I still think maybe she was going a little easy on me. A lot of the material I have is too similar. It treads a lot of the same ground. We teased out a number of themes that play nicely together and I feel that there could be a strong 30-40 minutes in there. It was one of those days where you spend a lot of time re-arranging pieces of paper into a coherent order of sorts. And we did, for the most part, but there is still a rather large question mark over the end of the piece and consequently over my head.

What am I trying to say that I haven't already said? What is the big finish? Could that possibly be all there is to say?

I need to spend some time running in what I have and seeing if it works off the page as well it does laid out on a floor or in my head. I'm happy to say that the opening section from the very first Scratch seems to be holding strong as a nice foundation.

I'm looking forward to showing the first 20 minutes in a few weeks at First in Three at Northern Stage. I'm pretty sure that is the best test for the material. Especially if I mean what I say in the copy I wrote; I can't do it without an audience.

In the meantime, I have a photo shoot for the publicity image (and my website...) and lots to think about/try. Wish me luck.

No strings attached - workshop with Liz Walker

On Thursday 14 February I travelled to the wintry wilds of Holmfirth to spend the day with Liz Walker from Invisible Thread, in her barn on a very steep hillside.

The best thing about working with Liz, and what I really needed at the time, was that right from the offset she wanted to DO, to try things. I showed her what I had brought: my laptop, notebook, tapes, cassette players, a bouncy ball, some sand and other things we might use. We also had access to the incredible treasure trove of items in Liz's workshop. And so we played, quite unlike I have played so far in this process. I almost felt like a child again.

Obviously Liz's strengths lie in puppetry and visually articulating ideas using objects and a whole host of media. When I first started thinking about making One I had thoughts of invisible friends, sex dolls, substitutes for real relationships that cover the gaps in our lives. I was concerned about inhabiting a space alone and wanted to look into object manipulation to create other characters to play with. But things have changed quite a lot along the way and while I still worry about my ability to fill a stage I am also sure that I don't want to put things in place just to have something to hide behind. I had to finally let go of some ideas that have been with me from the start because they now feel like part of a different show, that I am no longer making. And even though I sort of knew this before I got there, I was adamant that I wanted to at least try them before I gave them up.

RIP Barry the Man(p)illow.

The show is developing a real identity, themes are beginning to emerge and in the end that is what Liz and I focused on. How the space might be defined and structured. What my relation to the space is. How the different elements/props cross the space and if they can cross 'barriers'. Ways of making a physical distinction between what is memory and what is in the present.

While I worry that Liz may have felt her real skills were not being put to use, I had a very positive day and came away feeling that I was moving in the right direction. Her input and constant questioning was incredibly useful in helping me work through some of the decisions I had made. To re-think some and to solidify others. And I would like to thank her for her energy and generosity.

Writer in residence - workshop with Kate Fox

On Friday 1st February I spent a day with Kate Fox. All part of my grand plan to learn from other artists, to bring fresh energy in to the rehearsal room and to explore other processes in the making of One.

Kate has recently turned her writing and comedic talents to making theatre and I was interested to hear how/if her process had changed much as a result.

We spent some time on creating material from stream of consciousness, how applying an attitude (we worked with the seven deadly sins for a while) to a perfectly ordinary situation can create humour. We played with 'it's worse than that' and took ideas to the absolute worst case scenario. Just so you know, if the show bombs and I damage my reputation so badly I can no longer be a theatre maker and I end up as a cancerous prostitute, living in a doorway... I told you so!

Exaggeration is fun and freeing. I really think there may be room for this in the piece in order to soften the blow of the more melancholy aspects of being alone.  

I was also interested in her experience of stand-up and how she felt this enhanced her theatre performances.

We talked a lot about autobiographical material and the risks/fears involved. What we felt we could and couldn't share. I am particularly concerned about revealing personal things about myself that may lead to me being judged, or worse pitied, by the audience thereby tainting the rest of the show.  But I am also aware that for a connection to feel real and for the work to have impact I need to be honest. Kate suggested that if I held anything back the audience would be able to tell.

I think this is where her experience in stand-up comes in. She had strong opinions on the liveness of the live experience and offered a particularly painful example of a performer losing her trust by referring to another audience member's physical appearance making it clear they weren't really looking at or talking about them at all. She couldn't understand why and I can totally understand her dislike of entirely scripted interactions that could be shown to any audience in any location and never change. What she and I both love is a genuine connection, acknowledgement of the current shared space. To quote open space technology, "Whatever happens is the only thing that could have happened". A little more freedom to be real and responsive. To be truly live takes confidence that you can control your audience. Perhaps that is the gift of the comedian?

We spent some time watching a selection comedians entrances, noticing how most acknowledge the audience directly, often refer to the room or city and make comment about someone in the room. As if to say, "Yes, I am really here. With you."

This has made me very conscious of my audience interactions because as a frequent attender of small studio spaces I know how quickly we can tell when we are being talked at or near rather than to. I don't think I am in danger of making a piece of performance that could happen anywhere and that members of the audience will feel that they might as well have not been there but how much more rich might it feel for them to feel it was specific to them. That their experience, even if part of a tour, was unique. I wonder if I can produce that in my show? I hope so.

I'd really like to thank Kate for her time and generosity, and Annabel at ARC for making it happen.

Still devoted and still disgruntled

What a great, useful, inspiring, passionate, frustrating, intelligent, generous and fruitful weekend. Improbable, as ever, created a welcoming, open space to meet, rub ideas up against each other and see what sticks.

I met some very interesting people, heard some great ideas, heard about other people's projects, thought about my own work and my place in this world. And I feel refreshed. Ready to create. I am looking forward to getting back in to the rehearsal space this week. 

I attended a rich variety of sessions and heard people speaking from the heart and from experience about topics such as the benefits of Scratch, ticket pricing and value, talking about what we do, solo performance making, autobiographical work, getting audiences to act and making/telling stories. I won't go into detail about all the sessions I attended you can read all the reports online here. Warning, there is a lot of passion to be found on those pages.

And once again, if you have the chance to attend a Devoted & Disgruntled/Open Space event you really should.

What a difference a workshop makes.

The other day I took part in a workshop at ARC, Stockton Arts Centre. It was run by physical theatre company Tangled Feet. I'd heard of them but not seen any of their work before. 

I wanted to go because it is ALWAYS fun to do a workshop and to meet new artists (besides I made a belated New Year's Resolution to myself to say yes to as many artistic things as possible). It also fitted with the process of making One, the idea of participating in 'skills labs' with a variety of practitioners. This workshop was an opportunity to play with a company whose work is predominantly physical. As well as an opportunity to learn this was an chance to get out of my own head, lay off the words and use my body for a change. 

In all honesty the exercises we were put through, on the whole, were not new to me but the whole workshop was a real pleasure. The company ethos of total collaboration, that all members regardless of roles have input in to the creation of the work really comes across and they were just a really great, easy-going bunch to be around. And I never felt talked down to. This was sharing, not teaching (note to self: good to remember in case I ever have to run one of these things).

The group were quickly put at ease (I don't think I was the only one to be relieved that the workshop wasn't full of nubile 17 olds but mature artists like myself) and the two hours just flew by. After a short intro to the company, their history and methodology we did some warm up games, a short physical warm up and then we were into some material generation exercises. 

We looked at everyday tasks, at simple interactions and how as an audience we naturally look for meaning and create narrative. How simple, physical movements can be interpreted even without any 'acting' and how groups moving together with simple instructions can start to build pictures. The company talked about how these exercises, and similar, allow them to build a pallet of images from which to create a show.

While none of this was ground-breaking I began to think about the limitations of words and what scope there was in this for a person making work alone. Could I set myself tasks, video them and see if any images leapt out at me? But with no-one else to instruct or react to could I really lose myself in the movement? Could I bring together a group of artists/friends (as Leeds' company Uncanny have done this week in fact) and use them to help me create my own pallet of images? How useful would this be, knowing it would only be me performing it at the end of the day? Would I be in danger of creating something I could never recreate?

I am glad I made the effort to go to Stockton for this short workshop. It was just what I needed to start the year. It was utterly refreshing to a) do rather than think and b) to work visually/physically. I thoroughly enjoyed it and will do my best to take what I can into the rehearsal space with me in a couple of weeks. It's already got me thinking...

On reflection - a review of 2012

It seems appropriate (and popular) to use the time of year to look back and reflect on the previous year. As things were a little tough in the middle/latter stages of the year for me I have been a little reluctant to do this but looking over my blog posts for 2012 I am reminded that I was involved in a great number of very positive things.

Photograph by Matt Tullett

So, and in no particular order, here are a few of them:

1. At the beginning of June I was lucky enough to be selected to be one of 24 artists to play and make work over 24 hours at Contact Theatre for 24 Arty People. Contact's offering was so completely generous - opening up their entire building for us to enjoy and offering numerous members of staff to make it easy for us to do whatever we wanted to do. It was utterly joyful and introduced me to new artists and friends.
2. In May i was selected to go to Northern Stage in Newcastle and pitch for Title Pending. I was thrilled to be invited but quickly realised when I got there that I wasn't ready. There time scale would not work for me and vice versa. However, this was the first test of my ideas for 'One' and as such it was really useful.  It was also a statement to my peers (and myself) that I am a serious, professional theatre maker and that that is the career I intend to pursue.
3. In June I also discovered I had won one of the Emerge Mentored Commissions to develop 'One' over a year. This was an important first step as it was this injection of cash and support which undoubtedly led to me being able to successfully apply for Arts Council funding over the summer.
4. October was very tough for me but when I heard about the open call for a community choir to record backing vocals for Hope and Social's new album I knew it was something I should do. I've always loved to sing. It is something I do a lot when I am alone. Also, having watched Gavin's workplace choirs I was convinced by the uplifting power of communal singing. I'd come across Hope and Social when they made Bring The Happy with Invisible Flock. They provided the music for the celebratory, raucous, party of a theatre show in 2011. The day was so open and the band created such a welcoming atmosphere. Everyone was encouraged to bring food to share and the day was full of fun. Not everything we recorded made the final edit sadly but every time I listen to the album I am uplifted, just as I was that day.
5. I'm a big believer in Devoted & Disgruntled, an event which creates a unique space for everyone with an interest in theatre to talk about anything they think is important. It's a conference without hierarchies. No key speakers. A space where artistic directors sit alongside students, where Guardian critics sit alongside administrators and everyone has a voice. I went to two this year. The annual event in London in February and the roadshow event in Leeds in October. The fact that they weren't great for me is more to do with the head space I was in than any doubts I have about these events. It's all about possibilities and BEING THERE. There aren't many other events that get all of those people in the same room at the same time, so what happens there might be a small shift in opinion or the beginning of a whole new collaboration but it is always worth making the effort for. In fact I am heading to the annual London event later this month so watch this space for a debrief...
6. In November I went to a fantastic workshop/sharing for Furnace at West Yorkshire Playhouse. Unlimited Theatre were hosting and managed to create a very open and accepting space for play. The group was very mixed and as with Devoted & Disgruntled I was very pleased to see lots of new faces (of all ages). There were early sharings of work in development and a joyfully, unruly attempt to make a group piece of theatre based on a few small rules. The conversations and joy flowed well in to the night as many of us found ourselves dancing til the wee small hours.
7. 2012 was a fantastic year for 'The Reservation'. Although Ellie and I didn't do a lot of gigs the ones we did were very well accepted and culminated in a fabulous 4 star review from Guardian critic Lyn Gardner. She followed this up with another mention in an article on the therapeutic power of theatre in releasing grief a week later and finally inclusion in an end of year round up. This article named our teeny weeny show alongside the RSC and Stan's Cafe. It's incredible to think that we made such an impression on someone who is so well regarded. I cannot express how proud I am to have made this gently affecting show. 
8. I started making my first solo show 'One'. On occasion I think I might be mad but mostly I am enjoying constructing something from scratch. playing with ideas and form, enjoying being in front of an audience again. This is something that comes from me. Perhaps this is the ultimate act of egotism but I think it is more than that. It feels like a rite of passage. That after this, whether a roaring success or a crashing failure, I will truly be able to call myself a theatre maker. It's terrifying and glorious. 2012 is where is started and its already changed a lot. 2013 is where it will come to life and I am pretty excited.

Head Scratching - thinking about my work in progress

Last week (Wednesday 28 November) I was lucky enough to have the chance to scratch 'One' again, this time at ARC, Stockton Arts Centre where I am a member of their Artists' Network ARCADE.

It was an interesting experience for a number of reasons.

1) I think the work has started to take a new direction, more tangental than barking up a new tree I hope. This means that everything I showed was very new and freshly put together, incomplete and perhaps not as brave as I would have liked to have been. I hadn't had chance to take the ideas as far as I possibly could yet. The knock-on effect is that I wasn't sure how I felt about the material yet. This also meant I wasn't able to tech properly as I wasn't quite on top of all my text when I arrived at the venue.

2) I was also concerned that the text I had provided in advance about the show might not accurately reflect what I was about to do. It's that age old issue of writing copy for unfinished works. Or perhaps in my case incomplete ideas? I feel I am only now beginning to find the nugget at the heart of this idea of being alone and being OK.

3) I think that Scratch events are contradictory in nature. While I appreciate the chance to try my 'stage-legs' and get real reactions to the work, it does skew the intention a little. Everyone says that Scratch Nights are supposed to be for sharing work-in-progress and no-one minds if it is rough around the edges... but of course, you want to be liked. You want the audience to think the work is good, no matter how incomplete. As such, I found myself worrying about how polished mine would seem in comparison to the other performances (as it turned out, not very) and rushing to make the piece make some kind of sense for the audience.

4) Technology is evil. Even the most primitive. And so the old adage "What can go wrong, will go wrong" was very much in play. I forgot music cues, and a blank tape turned out not to be... DIS-ARSE-TER DAHLING!

I was a little disappointed with my offering over all but hope I at least managed to lay out some of the themes and motifs for the show going forwards from here. I was also reassured by my producers Little Mighty that it is not so far removed from the initial material I scratched back in June/July. Which is a relief. I really liked bits of that and hope to hang on to some, if not all, of it.

Some of the issues I had were down to late preparation and procrastination. ie. MY FAULT. Some of this was nerves. Some of this was the nature of the Scratch beast. All I can do is try and learn from it and hope to make the piece even better in the future. Who knew screwing up could feel so positive. It's kind of exciting.

Looking for those solo achievers...

While looking at loneliness and time spent alone I have also found myself thinking about the value of time spent alone.

Being alone can be a necessity or just the result of circumstances but those things that you achieve by yourself, aren't they the best won prizes? The most satisfying? For me this project is a kind of trial, a test, to see if I CAN make a show almost entirely on my own. As I have mentioned I have never done it before and I've found myself thinking about what I call 'The Power of One'.

Throughout history there are individuals who have made significant solo achievements, started movements and broken records, often just to see if they could. One person can make a difference. One person can achieve a lot, if they put their mind to it.

Think about Dame Ellen MacArthur, 'the fastest person to circumnavigate the globe single-handedly'. She steered a huge boat over 26,000 miles, by herself, in just 71 days and broke a world record. It sounds impressive doesn't it? 

But I think about this... she had no-one else to rely on when things got hard. When she got injured, burning her arm and cracking her forehead open she had to carry on because there was no-one else.  She was against the clock AND at the mercy of the elements meaning she couldn't afford to sleep much but she also had to keep functioning at an incredibly high level on this lack of sleep. I wonder how many times she cried, how lonely she must have felt, how exhausted and terrified she must have been. I wonder how often she considered she might die out there, all alone.

I wonder how much she thought about that before she went. Was she prepared to die for her ambition? Or is that something you cannot consider if you are going to do these things?

And so what I am now looking for is more of these remarkable people. Individuals, dead or alive and not just sporting, who have made great solo achievements. And I need your help. If you can think of any, you can tweet me @Yorkshirebint and use the hashtag #solo or email me jayekearney61@googlemail.com

Thanks.

If you cut us, do we not bleed?

So Newcastle Council have announced a proposal to cut 100% of their arts funding...

This news sends chills down my spine. That a city that has had culture at the heart of it's massively successful regeneration is about to have it's legs cut out from under it. A city I am very fond of. That had things turned out differently for me personally I was all prepared to move to two years ago. A city that is home to some brilliant venues and even more brilliant people who work and make work there.

This news sends chills down my spine because now I fear, more than ever, for the rest of the regions. I fear that if this government continues to behave so idiotically, clamping down on public spending and strangling the regions that eventually we will all have to go to London to see theatre, to enjoy art because for some reason they feel we don't need it up here in the grim old North.

And what really sends chills up my spine is the fear of a migritation that follows this. That all our talented, brightest and best will be forced to seek the capital in order to fulfill their aspirations because why should they stay? What will we, the poor lowly regions have to offer them?

I love the arts. I need them. All the arts. I don't just mean the stuffy old, historical and 'high art'. I like my art dirty and raucous, fast and loose, hands-on and accessible to all, ethereal and experimental, developing and emerging, studio based and site-specific, intimate and epic, magical and political. I like variety and lots of it. I want everyone in every region to have the chance to see it, hear it, taste it, touch and be touched by it and so I feel deeply for those in Newcastle who give their heart and souls to make great art for the people in their region. I know they will fight this and fight hard. I just want them to know I will be standing right behind them. And I won't be the only one. I hope this is the beginning and not the end.

Art Is The Light At The End Of The Tunnel: Part 2

Perhaps it is people who don't indulge in the creative arts who don't see the restorative qualities they have. Over the last few weeks, after an initial period when I pretty much spoke to no-one besides my mother and just did what she told me to do because I felt swamped by any kind of decision-making, I have indulged my passion of theatre making as a kind of refuge. As a way of reminding myself who I am and waking my soul up. Back at work today I felt guilt because I imagine this looks to the outside world like I've been having a jolly. They might be right they are also wrong. Nothing I have done recently has come easily. Not even the 'fun stuff'.

If I could have afforded to go and do nothing lie by a pool for a week and read a book, perhaps that would be deemed a more appropriate form of healing? And it would have been healing to create a quiet head space and get lots of vitamin D but like I said I couldn't afford it.

Returning to work today has also been hard, though I doubt anyone could tell. Well, that's the problem with poor mental heath isn't it? Unless you are running around with underpants on your head saying, "Wibble", who would know?

And so yes when colleagues ask if I am feeling better I say, "Yes", because I am feeling better, than I was. I don't feel BETTER. I am not well, not quite me yet. I am still healing and imagine I will be for a while.

It's hard to understand, unless you have experienced it, that while your illness is not physical it is not without physical symptoms. Last night I had hideous anxiety dreams and broken sleep. Today I am tired, my shoulders, neck and back ache. This morning I had a dodgy tummy and all day I have had intermittent chest pains. I also know that that is probably as bad as it will get, and hopefully tomorrow will be better. It certainly can't get any better if I hide away. Returning to work is part of facing my demons and finding healthier ways to overcome them. I have to own my own sanity and take some responsibility for my own health. But if it does get bad again, and I have to realistically assume that it could, I can deal with it. And I know that my love of the arts will be a massive help in getting better again, once I am over the worst of it.

Art Is The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Since it is Love Arts Festival at the moment, a festival looking at arts, mental health and wellbeing, it seems appropriate to come clean about what has been/is going on with me.

I think as an artist no-one will mind if I say I have been in a dark place recently. A place, like a cross between a hamster wheel and a dark tunnel, a relentless place filled with anger, despair and self-loathing. But as an artist I think many of you will understand when I say that it is mainly due to my art (and the support of friends and my incredible Mother) that I am beginning to pull myself out and feel like myself again, which just makes me even more grateful that I have made it a big part of my life.

Going to Devoted and Disgruntled, at the beginning of the month, felt like being in a war zone. It was too much all at once. Too many people, too much noise, too much choice. I wanted to be there but I wasn't, really. I spent all morning resisting the urge to run away. The pains in my chest were near constant and I felt sick. I stayed because I wanted to support the event itself. I had been looking forward to it for so long. But I was removed and I little numb and got very little out of it as a result.

Since then I've been making plans and rehearsing for One - getting my funding from Arts Council England was a massive boost, although even that felt like more pressure than I could handle, initially - I went back to High Spirits, a local choir, and I took part in an open call for community singers to be on the Hope and Social album. These were all good things (singing really is one of the most joyful things you can do) that were incredibly emotionally draining, just to find the strength to get there in the first place, but each one made me feel more like someone I actually recognised and liked. Me. 

I've been doing The Reservation again this week (more dates to come) and that has been tough. Don't get me wrong I am immensly proud of The Reservation and I want to do it but... I suppose I knew it would be tough. A 14 hour day is tough at the best of times but when you have been off work for the best part of a month it's a really BIG investment of time and energy. As soon as I was finished on day one I was overwhelmed by relief and a flood of emotions. Not because it was too much but BECAUSE IT MATTERS. I had been so afraid that I couldn't get through it and I hadn't even realised how scared I was. But I did get through it, I enjoyed it, and day two was even better. Today I have the post-performance blues, but I always get those so I'm not too worried.

I have never looked in to art therapy, I suppose I have always just naturally had that in my life without thinking about it as such, but having recently felt the specific benefits of the sanctuary of the creative brain space I can see why so many people think it is so important. According to Love Arts “One in four of us will experience a mental health problem in our lifetime”. That seems like a lot to me.

This is only one of many things I am doing to improve my own mental health, including reducing my caffeine (for the anxiety attacks), looking in to meditation and natural remedies (for the sleep issues) and most importantly talking to someone who can help. The next stage will be returning to work, which terrifies me but thanks to all this I am building up stronger defences to make it manageable at least. I have to keep reminding myself, this is just a difficult patch. I am lucky that I am not someone who suffers ongoing clinical depression. And I will, of course, be continuing with my art and doing all I can to make that the highlight of each week. To say it has kept me alive is a slight exaggeration, but only slight, and I am grateful to have had the access to it and the ability to use it. I'm sure there are many who don't.

Too Much Of A Good Thing?

Firstly this is an admission.

What 'they' say about making work on your own is TRUE. It's hard. Not that I ever really doubted 'them'. Of course, that doesn't mean you (I) shouldn't do it. I always knew it would be hard. Maybe I even wanted it to be hard. I wanted to test myself, to prove I could do it by myself.

Except of course I can't.

I'm not talking about coming up with ideas and content. I'm not even talking about that painful process of forcing yourself to physically stand up and 'do' something. I can and I have been doing that. I am talking about feeling like I need to be Superwoman, like I need to do it ALL on my own. To go from being on my own at home, in the street, in life and also being on my own in the studio. And that is nobody's fault but mine. Because this is where it has got messy.

Being alone is fine. Making work on your own is fine.... Too much of anything is bad.

I have come to realise that what I need in order to be able to be productively and usefully on my own in the rehearsal space is to spend less time on my own (and in my head) outside of the rehearsal space. I haven't done that recently and I've come a little unstuck - and I'm not just talking about the show here. I've spent too much time listening to my own personal demons and not enough time being excited, challenged and inspired by others - in relation to my work and life in general, cos let's face it, it's all brain food. To enjoy the moments of easy breathing and comfortable interaction and relaxation. I've spent too much time focussing on the negatives, worrying about the possible outcomes of scenarios that may never occur and assuming the worst. By isolating myself in my life I lost the genuine pleasure of being alone in the space and playing. The project brief became another chore... Speaking with other artists I know that everyone falls a little out of love with their project every now and then so I am sure it will pass. I can also change the amount of time I spend alone without changing the brief. There are people supporting the show that I can meet with more regularly to chew the fat and talk things through with as well as getting in to the space as outside eyes to keep giving me deadlines to focus on.

This was always supposed to be about learning how I make work by myself. I think I just learned a valuable lesson, the hard way.

The sound of loneliness?

I'm thinking about sound for this Scratch. In particular the sound of loneliness.

Is it the lack of something or someone? Or is it the sound of the thing/person that you are separated from? Is it the noise inside your head when you can't stop thinking about someone you can't have? Or is it a noisy room full of laughter when you feel so sad?

Where are we most lonely and what does that place sound like?

In my first Scratch during Emerge I talked a little about the loneliness of being on a stage alone for the first time. At First in Three (Scratch number two) I talked about the use of tape and documentation/playback during the process and as I get further in to it, spending more and more time alone in big echoey rooms I've been thinking more and more about the sound of the rehearsal room and the empty space I am supposed to fill...

Today I've got toys and ways of capturing that. Now as Scratch number three approaches I'm thinking about playback, sound quality, presentation and aesthetics.

Loneliness is a place without you

I am thinking a lot about unrequited love and not just because of the research for the show but because of where I am at. It's been a rare occurrance over the last few years for me to find someone who makes such an impact and leaves such a lasting impression but there it is.

It's an uncomfortable thing to discuss (in fact it is a hard thing for me to even write), I suppose that is why it is so isolating. No-one wants to hear how sad you are, how much you yearn for someone who does not/cannot love you back. No-one wants to be reminded of how it feels to be rejected. After they've given the usual platitudes of "Their loss" and "You deserve better", or the like, what else is there for them to say? It is not a problem they can solve and those are not the words I want to hear, so, I haven't really been talking about it. I've been keeping this pain from my closest friends.

The worst thing is that I find it makes me question myself, my worth, my place in the world. To be rejected, or simply not noticed, by the person you most want to be close to can lead to a rise in self-doubt and self-loathing. Clearly, (they think) you aren't good enough for them... and the fact that I feel this way and have these thoughts makes me like myself even less (deeply helpful). I like to think of myself as independent, capable and self-sufficient. I do not define myself through the presence of another, but I don't want to be alone forever either.

As I have mentioned many, many times I am not opposed to spending time alone but missing someone specific and being separated from the people/person I love provides a particularly intense sensation of loneliness. This ache accentuates the solitude. It's a sharp sting, a keen longing that permeates everything and no-one else can help me. It's just one of those annoying things that takes a long time and a lot of heartache. It WILL get better (or so I keep telling myself). It did the last time, and the time before, and the time before that...

New publicity shot?

Today I am back in the rehearsal room. Playing with tapes... thinking about originals and copies, about mix tapes and long distance love, about sound quality and hours spent alone in my bedroom as a teenager.

I'm also thinking something like this might make quite a nice publicity image for the show. What do you think?

Source: Uploaded by user via Jaye on Pinterest

My One And Only?

So I've been talking to a couple of people about the state of the arts recently; about the fragility of local government funding and venues within larger organisations with differing agendas none of which bodes well for the future of regional arts.

People have also been talking to me about the ethics of public money paying our wages when the public don't want most of what we do. Especially when it is being held up by the government as an either/or option. I mean really, who is going to choose art over hospitals or emergency services? I wouldn't.

And now I feel... Pretty depressed. No, not just depressed, scared. I'm afraid that after waiting so long to do this I have left it too late - by about a decade. The moment has passed. The optimism is gone. The money pot has dried up.

OK, so funding is not a right. I accept this. I don't need to make buckets of money. And in fact I never really wanted to. I would be happy to just cover my bills and have a little spending money (which, let's face it, I would mostly spend on going to the theatre and socialising with my theatre mates). And the lack of it shouldn't stop me from making work. I hope it won't but with no funding to support making the work and fewer and fewer venues it's starting to look pretty bleak.

Because the thing is I am alone. This isn't just a device for the show. Unlike many who make theatre I do not have a supportive partner at home bringing in a second wage, rich parents, my own home or any kind of external financial support structure... And I begin to wonder if I am a fool to even think about trying to do this at this time. It's a pretty terrifying thought, if I am honest.

Will this show be my one and only?

Proximity And Connection

Pickering Castle at dusk

[Saturday 28 July] I've just been to see Slung Low's final part of the Converging Paths project called Story Book. It was a promenade performance and took place at Pickering Castle (which midges aside is a gorgeous venue for a piece of site specific performance) and I am left thinking, unsurprisingly, about audience interactions.

You see we were each given headphones and a receiver so we could hear the backing track and the performers clearly in am outdoor space. I understand that this is a very practical solution to roaming work where the audience may not always have the best vantage point but means they don't quite miss out on the action. Having the words spoken directly in their ear creates a certain sense of intimacy with the performers - they are all speaking directly to you. It also allows the company to control the audiences environment so that the only information they receive is what is fed to them.

I experienced something very similar once at Latitude Festival and it made a little more sense there in that context. We were intentional voyeurs, viewing at a distance without interacting in any way, dipping in and out of the stories of other 'festival goers'. And while it made sense to me I found the whole experience rather cold. It was sort of like watching an outdoor television show.

As a technique, I don't enjoy it. I don't like how it isolates me from my fellow audience members. I feel penned in to my own body and my own little cocoon. Even though I know others are having the same experience as me I feel restricted and cut off which, while it doesn't really detract from my experience of the story, does go against one of the fundamental reasons why I go to live events. I spend enough time in my own head. I go to the theatre to be amongst other people. To feel a part of something bigger than myself rather than a passive spectator. I can do that at home. Perhaps I could reach out to others but I am wary because of the headphones. I might speak too loudly and embarrass myself. Of course, you say, this is a performance, why would you be talking? That is the festival context though isn't it? We are free, free from seating, walls and the 'normal' theatre etiquette aren't we? The rules are muddled here. I am not sure of my place and so I am doubly cautious.

This is not to say that I didn't enjoy Story Book at all, just that it confirmed for me what I place most importance on in performance work and the bearing this has on my own practice and I wanted to unpick that a little.

Diamonds In The Rough - A Post Show Analysis

So in the aftermath of my second Scratch (for anyone stumbling across this who doesn't know; a Scratch is a showing of unfinished performance work) performance of One, at Northern Stage, I am left with the arduous task of sorting the wheat from the chaff...

First thoughts are that it was definitely a useful experience. Useful to try the same material on a less familiar audience to see how I navigate having fewer shared points of reference. In Leeds I built my confidence by directing certain comments to friends knowing they would be easier to draw in to a kind of dialogue as there was a pre-existing rapport. The piece has direct points of contact built in which, I hope, break some of those barriers with a more unknown quantity so it will be interesting to see the written feedback and how the audience felt we were 'getting along'. They certainly gave off a very friendly vibe.

And yet I was actually disappointed with myself in this section. I didn't find my feet quite as well as I had in Leeds. I fluffed some lines and got a couple of bits the wrong way round. I tried to keep it fresh for myself by interjecting new information but this just served to unsettle me a little.

The totally interactive and majorly improvised new section about Imaginary Friends at the end went surprisingly smoothly despite my utter fear at throwing it so open to the audience (something I have never done before). I've already had some useful feedback on how this could be more inventive and democratically playful for me and the audience, allowing more people to have input in a slightly 'safer' space. So I won't say too much about that here. I have no idea if it will even stay in the show but it was great to just give it a go, to take a chance in the space, and have it embraced so generously. This should be what Scratch is for, right?

I had mixed feelings about the cassette tape section at the beginning. It had no natural place. Though I like it as an idea I didn't like where it sat. I had to put it at the beginning out of necessity rather than desire. But the tape/player itself has become quite important as it resonates quite deeply with me. Now I need to work out how it weaves with rest of the fabric of the show. Though at this point I do not want it to dictate anything. I wonder about the next Scratch at Emerge in September and whether that should be entirely tape based? Hmmm...

What is clear is that documentation is becoming more and more important to the piece both as a tool for making and reflection but also the presentation. This makes me wonder about who my collaborators should be at this point and if there are significant changes to be made (and here I apologise to my producer Gloria for the kittens this may give her)?

My thanks to the team at Northern Stage, who made me so very welcome for two days in their building.

What Might Be In The Show

When Rabbit Damage were making the show in Berwick we made a video called What Isn't In The Show and it was just a bit of a giggle and an attempt at viral marketing... since the show wasn't finished and we didn't want to give too much away.

Today I am rehearsing for One and mostly thinking about what might be in the show and trying not to get too boggled. On Thursday I have a scratch showing at First in Three at Northern Stage and mostly I am looking forward to trying out what I already have (what I did at The Carriageworks for Emerge in June) on a different, slightly less partisan, audience. But I'd also like to share something new and this is where my problems begin. I feel like I have spent so long shelving things to come back to later that I don't know where to start.

I guess this is where a collaborator would come in handy. We would discuss the merits of each and see which sparks the most interest. We could vote on which we would prefer to get stuck in to. We could play Paper, Scissors, Stone or have a thumb war. We could agree to take one idea each and try stuff out on each other... But there is no-one else here (Yes, Jaye, who's stupid idea was that then?).

So here I am, with a long list of wonderful things to play with. What to do first?

This show may contain: sex dolls, memories, cassette tapes, love letters to long distance lovers, Bros, the charts, my Dad, CCTV, video diaries, dancing, audio archaeology, Pillowman, internet dating, dining alone, desert islands, the zombie apocolypse, games, Chobitz, monophobia, Bridget Jones and imaginary friends.