tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2317548567235059132024-03-06T06:56:00.875+00:00The Art of Cat Herding.Sometimes I write about theatre. Sometimes I write about life. And just sometimes, I write about both... apparently they are are not mutually exclusive.Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-34260880208185708982013-07-21T14:04:00.000+01:002013-07-21T14:04:50.676+01:00How it all started...<a href="https://vine.co/v/hmY5IJvHKnJ?fb_action_ids=10151711344473396&fb_action_types=vine-app%3Apost&fb_source=aggregation&fb_aggregation_id=288381481237582" target="_blank">https://vine.co/v/hmY5IJvHKnJ?fb_action_ids=10151711344473396&fb_action_types=vine-app%3Apost&fb_source=aggregation&fb_aggregation_id=288381481237582</a>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-47450844395861058902012-05-06T17:12:00.000+01:002012-05-06T18:19:41.044+01:00Black Dogs & Lamé - an tribute to Community Theatre.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://mythicalarchive.com/Creature_Page.php?Name=Barguest" target="_blank">Barguest</a></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">A black eyed dog he called at my door</span></i><i><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">The black eyed dog he called for more</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">A black eyed dog he knew my name</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">A black eyed dog he knew my name</span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">A black eyed dog</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_93984466"><br />
</a><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJSC25Ue8Gg" target="_blank">A black eyed dog.</a><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">This was the song that
I used to wake-up to in the early hours.
Hearing it on repeat in the next room when I lived with my ex-partner who most nights, like many of us, chose to try to drown that particular canine friend in a
vat of wine. Honestly, it quite literally drove
me mad. But I understood it… I understood it inherently from my own
experiences with that old faithful friend: Depression. I understood it from watching siblings
struggle with, and for the most part, conquer theirs and I understood it from
growing up with a parent who undoubtedly has had a lifetime dogged (pun
intended) by it. Hell, I even moved to
China to try to avoid mine! But he still followed me there, the mischievous little shit… Man’s worst friend. There have been times when he has led me to make royally poor choices, screw up relationships and sometimes even stop me from leaving the house or picking up the phone. But one thing is for sure, the only thing for me that has proved, eventually, to be a superior opponent to this bully, are the Arts; namely, Music, Literature and most significantly Theatre. </span></div>
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">In view of this, it's hardly surprising that I have ended up being drawn to working in Community and Applied Arts. I have always been of the strong belief that when people end up working in professions that provide protective or supportive factors in the community, while doing so, whether they acknowledge it or not, they are also fulfilling a need for something of this in their own lives. Certainly within the Applied Theatre field many of the people I have worked and studied with are not without their own amount of what I like to call "specialness". As I have <a href="http://pullinghabitsoutofrats.blogspot.co.uk/2012_03_01_archive.html" target="_blank">previously blogged</a>, I believe that those who get in the way of our work, are our work. Having been a lapsed, albeit slightly flakey, but fully paid-up member of The Awkward Squad over the years, I have often been the person who has got in the way of my work. Consequently, I have become my own work by default through my work with others: my quest for understanding myself has become indivisible from my quest to understand others. It has grown into a symbiotic relationship which stems from a quietly nagging feeling that I never quite fit in anywhere completely. Now, of course I have come to realise that this feeling is by no means unique to me: no one really feels like they fit in anywhere and this is mainly to due to the nature of the modern community. <a href="http://zygmunt%20bauman/" target="_blank">Zygmunt Bauman</a> writes most eloquently about the nature of <a href="http://www.polity.co.uk/book.asp?ref=0745626351" target="_blank">community</a> in our constantly shifting '<a href="http://www.polity.co.uk/book.asp?ref=0745626351" target="_blank">liquid</a>' world. He describes community as a 'cosy and comfortable' place in which we feel safe and understood. However, he goes on to say that community is actually a 'paradise lost or a paradise still hoped to be found' as it is the <i>concept</i> of community which gives us these warm feelings rather than the 'really existing community'. Now, that is not to say that we can't all find common ground and get along, but in the context of the culturally diverse demographic of London, our communities are in general terms more likely to be characterised by difference than our common bonds and equally, while communities can bind people together, they can just as easily exclude. These ideas are a major justification</span><span style="background-color: white;"> in my mind, for engaging "The Community" in the Arts. </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.ideastap.com/Partners/ovnv" target="_blank">Old Vic New Voices</a> community musical, '<a href="http://www.ideastap.com/Partners/ovnv/community/community_current" target="_blank">Epidemic</a>' is a turbo-charged, super-sized, all singing, all dancing example of such an arts project. Focussed on discourses around and experiences of healthcare, research and development for this production took in the views of over 250 Londoners and has resulted in the piece we are now coming into our last week of rehearsals for, before it opens on 20th May at The Old Vic Tunnels. Beautifully written by <a href="http://www.davidhigham.co.uk/clients/Morgan_Lloyd_Malcolm.htm" target="_blank">Morgan Lloyd Malcolm</a>, we are exploring issues around mental health and obesity through the story of a young man, Marlon, who in the midst of mental breakdown, manages to steal a Mobility bus with two other unlikely revolutionaries in tow and takes it on a joy-riding quest to escape the system and society which has prodded, poked, objectified and ultimately failed them. Throughout, the story is further brought to life through the infectious and witty songs of the marvellous <a href="http://www.thekaos.org/#/ali-jackson-suzy-davies/4535774084" target="_blank">Suzy Davies</a> . Without giving too much away pre-opening night, our unfalteringly lovely Director, <a href="http://www.ideastap.com/ideasmag/the-knowledge/alex-ferris-how-to-direct" target="_blank">Alex Ferris</a> has created a touching and very funny romp through our attitudes to our relationships, health, disability and the media.</div>
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I am sure that many things will be said about the actual show over the next few weeks, so I don't really want to focus on that right now. What I would like to share is the experience of what happens before the show opens, the part that the audience don't get to share with us: the process of becoming a community. We are a rag-tag bunch. We are a veritable smorgasbord (one of my favourite words) of backgrounds, experience, cultures, ages, class, education, religion, politics... well, you name it! You could not, if you were to cold-read it, bring together a more random bunch of 120 or so people. However, there are universal things which remain indefatigably true. </div>
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1/ We love to create.</div>
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2/ We have had disappointments, regrets and brushes with Black Dogs.</div>
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3/ We have experienced complicated human relationships. </div>
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4/ We, drawing from a combination of 1, 2 and 3, have found ourselves able to articulate that which is often kept hidden and sometimes is just completely inarticulable.</div>
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There are so many angles I could have taken on this blog post, but after sitting in the pub post-rehearsals listening to a man’s re-telling of his near death experience, seeing so many misty eyes glistening
after hearing a song or watching the scene of an old woman’s reminiscence of dancing with her
young husband or sharing the joy and excitement of working on a piece of the set which
involves a large piece of purple lamé and gold sequins, I am 100% sure of one thing: Dr Theatre never fails to chase away those <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_dog" target="_blank">Black Dogs</a>... e<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ven if it’s only until the next curtain call. What lasts beyond, however, is so much more: the feeling that you have been part of a community
which is genuinely accepting of you at your best and worst, no matter where you are from, who you work for or whether you can survive <a href="http://www.wix.com/johnriss/johnrossdance" target="_blank">John</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/sophieduncanuk" target="_blank">Sophie</a>, the Choreographers' warm-ups! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Community Theatre... thank you. You are our paradise found. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkSwsjwBnktGYftlVqZbBL0HS5UO6yEujRmBhymW_je47h-JF0cMALWARvLmMSPaDqe-b96D7EJNQnXm55MRB1jWWFH37RuqfDirJ0Cn_H4kO1cGXL-Rr-Spn-x3OyRxSQ8bH6orDJ6P_/s1600/epidemic+group+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkSwsjwBnktGYftlVqZbBL0HS5UO6yEujRmBhymW_je47h-JF0cMALWARvLmMSPaDqe-b96D7EJNQnXm55MRB1jWWFH37RuqfDirJ0Cn_H4kO1cGXL-Rr-Spn-x3OyRxSQ8bH6orDJ6P_/s320/epidemic+group+photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-61562868470835388532012-04-15T23:39:00.001+01:002012-04-16T00:06:06.641+01:00An Unorthodox Egg Hunt<br />
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Just wanted to share a rather amusing, but albeit faintly ridiculous game which I co-devised today… and in doing so illustrate the usefulness of
overtiredness and a willingness to risk and improvise.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had been in line to potentially take over from someone who
had dropped out of the <a href="http://www.mostmiraproject.org/" target="_blank">Most Mira</a> Youth Arts Festival in Bosnia this year, but
on Friday I received an email sadly informing everyone that due to funding
problems the festival was being postponed.
This is always sad to hear, especially when it is something that is almost
unique. Most Mira have been running the
festival for 3 years, the focus of which is to bring children and teachers from
schools in communities divided by the war in the nineties and engages them in
arts activities for 10 days. A large
part of the work is also to train and mentor local Bosnian artists so that they
might continue the work themselves after the festival has finished. However, without going into the whys and
wherefores of the importance of this work or the lack of funding, Most Mira had
already planned a training day with <a href="http://www.artswork.org.uk/home" target="_blank">Artswork</a> on group dynamics and one-to-one
coaching in order to help us support our local artist mentees during the
festival and so they decided to go ahead with it anyway. Which is how I found myself in a workshop at 10am
on my only proper day off of a couple of weeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The workshop began with a brief chat about what we would be
doing followed by the Most Mira staff and the facilitator promptly standing up,
gathering their things and walking out of the room. Puzzled, we all looked at each other and then
noticed the instructions written on the flip chart,<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘YOU CAN OPEN ONLY ONE’<o:p></o:p></div>
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Eh?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then we noticed two envelopes on the floor underneath. ‘Read what they say.’ someone suggested.
One said,<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘PLAY IT SAFE’<o:p></o:p></div>
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the other,<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘TAKE A RISK’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice.</span></i></div>
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Pretty quickly and painlessly, we decided ‘Take a risk’ was the one we
wanted to go for, despite a brief thought that perhaps it was some kind of double bluff and 'Play it safe' might have been more interesting, it was opened and the contents revealed. We were instructed to split into small groups, choose a parcel from the selection on the table and prepare a creative response to its contents to present to the group.</div>
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My group, consisted of myself and two women who were part of the dance team. We were all feeling the Sunday morning vibe, so when we opened our parcel to find a sheet of stickers with illustrations of different kinds of eggs and the names of the species of bird written under them, the feeling of 'meh' followed by 'Oh fuck' was palpable. My head swimming with exhaustion, the only creative response I had at that moment was to curl up into a foetal shaped ball and hide, however, as today was apparently the Orthodox Easter Sunday an egg hunt was quickly suggested. We were pretty clear that we didn't want to 'present' anything and so determined to get the group to do something we could watch and with overtired hysteria prevailing, things got a little silly, especially when we started trying to subtly stick the egg stickers in out-of-the-way places with everyone else still working in the same room. </div>
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Nonetheless, down the rabbit hole we went and eventually this is the game we devised:</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><i>Part 1</i></u></div>
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<i>1. Find an egg sticker and read the label of the type of bird it came from.</i></div>
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<i>2. Stick the sticker on your forehead. (Egg on face)</i></div>
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<i>3. Mime hatching out of the egg you found.</i></div>
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<i>4. Take on the exact characteristics of the bird you are and continue moving around the room and interacting with each other.</i></div>
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<u><i>Part 2</i></u></div>
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<i>1. There should be one less sticker than there are players. The last person left without an egg sticker, becomes the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Easter_Bunny" target="_blank">Easter Bunny</a>.</i></div>
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<i>2. The Easter Bunny must hop and chase the birds to steal their eggs.</i></div>
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<i>3. The Easter Bunny must return the eggs to the basket (empty sticker sheet)</i></div>
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<i>4. The birds must try to protect their eggs as best they can, however once their egg is stolen they must then become a sad version of their bird and continue moving around the room mourning their loss.</i></div>
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<i>5. The game is over when all the eggs have been returned to the basket.</i></div>
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I have to say watching this game was the most fun I've had on a Sunday morning for a very long time. The confusion of people asking each other 'But how does a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rufous-naped_Wren" target="_blank">Rufous-naped Wren</a> behave?!', the sight of the poor Animator (and only man in the room) who had to become the Bunny and hop around trying to get stickers off the bird's foreheads and the poor mourning birds was too much to bear at times... </div>
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I personally can't think of a better way to spend my lie-in!</div>
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<br /></div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-38601351216681521472012-03-23T22:55:00.001+00:002012-03-23T22:55:55.126+00:00The 'Fuck It' Button<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It has been noted in the past that I have a tendency towards
almost psychopathic levels of enthusiasm when I am passionate about
something. I say psychopathic because I
have discovered it is rarely dented, let alone de-railed, regardless of the
strength of any barriers or detractors present.
Generally, I consider this to be a positive attribute, despite it
meaning that I rarely say no to things, even if it means pushing myself to
exhaustion. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This week I have been taking part in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forum_theatre" target="_blank">Forum Theatre</a>
training at <a href="http://www.mungos.org/about?gclid=CKXx1oPx_a4CFQkRfAodKhkn1g" target="_blank">St Mungo’s</a> hostel in Willesden with <a href="http://www.pindroptheatre.com/" target="_blank">Catherine Pinhorn</a> and <a href="http://www.tonycealy.com/" target="_blank">Tony Cealy</a> courtesy of <a href="http://thechangecollective.com/index.php" target="_blank">The Change Collective</a>. The course was something I’d been wanting to
do for some time and so was really very excited to be beginning it last Sunday
morning… (yes, I did say Sunday morning).
During the week we spent a good deal of time exploring the techniques which form the arsenal of the <a href="http://www.theatreoftheoppressed.org/en/index.php" target="_blank">Theatre of the Oppressed</a>, developed by
Brazilian theatre practitioner, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOgv91qQyJc" target="_blank">Augusto Boal</a>. We also indulged in a little <a href="http://www.feldenkrais.co.uk/what.html" target="_blank">Feldenkrais</a>
and later in the week, shared our stories in order to generate material for the performance due
to take place for the hostel residents on Thursday. The process definitely consolidated some things which I had questions about in the making of a piece of Forum, having studied Boal in some depth but having almost no practical experience of it. We also had a fantastic forum with lots of really brilliant St Mungo's 'spectators' intervening on the action of the play. On that front, I finished the course today feeling confident and ready to get cracking on using what I've learned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However, what I wasn't prepared for was of a more personal nature. What I discovered was The 'Fuck It' Button. Now, don't get excited, the FI button is not related to sex. No, it is a button which once pushed, triggers disengagement at best and conflict, self sabotage and anti-social behaviour at worst. In my case, the FI Button has, over the years, resulted in numerous personal and professional derailments, negative risk-taking behaviour, not insignificant heartbreak and a raft of cracking hangovers. Strangely enough though, I had never actually explicitly identified it until today. It was named for me by a fellow participant on the course who works as a substance abuse councillor in a rehab facility. During the evaluation session in the afternoon, I had expressed my growing frustration with the lack of energy and commitment to the work of some of the other participants. Having trained rigorously as an actor several years ago and now working as a drama practitioner, the work is something I take extremely seriously and I am very aware of the importance of being 'present' in the moment. In fact, it is about the only time in my life, if I'm really honest, that I am completely mentally and physically committed to anything, preferring to spend much of my spare time in my own little world. Above all, I am horribly aware of the negative effect a lack of enthusiasm can have on a group. This was something I had discovered during my first drama training and rediscovered during my Masters; something which I think, at times caused some distance between myself and my fellow students.</div>
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The participants of this training week were from a range of backgrounds, but the common feature being that the majority were not from a performance background. Therefore, it turned out that my idea of physical commitment and theirs were certainly on different planets, if not in separate solar systems. This is where the surprise came for me... as a facilitator, I would have given my all to build the energy and encourage greater engagement and I would certainly have been a whole lot more sympathetic to those feeling challenged by the work. However, as a participant, the 'Fuck It' Button got pushed and thus began my descent into negativity, frustration and eventually, complete disengagement at certain points. Why should I bother killing myself to get the work done when no one else is? Of course, for the performance I summoned up the required energy to pull it off (as you do), but I'm interested in my response, as it feels so very alien to who I am in this work. </div>
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The beauty of engagement in the arts is that through the work we are often faced with our own internal oppressions and consequently are forced to examine them in order to overcome them. During the week, I had shared a quote, which has kept returning to me over the last year or so, although I have no idea who it was who originally said it. 'The people who get in the way of the work, are our work'. It's true. In the field of the Applied Arts there are numerous people who can get in the way of the work: the government, funders, councils, prison staff, religious bodies, school boards, charity workers, councillors, participants... you name them. Often they are people who have perhaps never taken part in creative activities and so have no understanding of what it is we do, seeing us a being a bit 'artsy-fartsy' or in some cases they are ideologically opposed to what we do. There are many reasons. However, what happens when the person who gets in the way of your work is you? </div>
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How does one dismantle one's 'Fuck It' button? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G0-mjRqZVCVxNPY5a-TuMNdjN5XtIfFFe3o7ZCBcWgzf6kK0yZI3BThPuHiQyHO0V4PP5rooBwa7C2TqrZiP28JFkniGp0lRYzz3FuWrs_BBfmdV_DmWdRhH7Zkav88JQ4wQxp3kHRoN/s1600/fuck_it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G0-mjRqZVCVxNPY5a-TuMNdjN5XtIfFFe3o7ZCBcWgzf6kK0yZI3BThPuHiQyHO0V4PP5rooBwa7C2TqrZiP28JFkniGp0lRYzz3FuWrs_BBfmdV_DmWdRhH7Zkav88JQ4wQxp3kHRoN/s1600/fuck_it.jpg" /></a></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-11149511174854352192012-01-16T00:27:00.000+00:002012-05-07T10:17:17.405+01:00‘You’re not scared: You’re METAL!’ or How I nearly broke the play.<i>This is a case study I wrote last year about the Pret a Manger sponsored 'Set the Scene' project which I worked on as a placement from Central School of Speech and Drama. It's rather longer than your average blog post, but an enjoyable and interesting read nonetheless, I hope!</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Let us speak frankly. I am present in this case study. I am present as a student and as a
practitioner, as an observer and as a participant. I am present as a fledgling researcher,
experimenting with critical, micro-ethnographic, post-modern and
phenomenological approaches to case study. Through these lenses, I hope, as
Nicholson suggests, to ‘convey something of the messiness of reality and explore
its incoherence’. (2005:65). As a result, in reporting the intrinsically
interesting areas of this project, some of my descriptions fall into the realm
of phenomenology in that they are drawn from the ‘way social reality is
produced through interaction’ (O’Reilly 2009:121) and take a more anecdotal
form (Simons 2009:76-77) At other times my observations become more reflexive in
recognition of the impossibility of ignoring the impact of my role at the site
of research when my position as ‘accepted stranger’ (O’Reilly 2009:176) shifted
to that of creative assistant, as I gained confidence and engaged in the
process. However, above all this, I am
present as someone who immersed herself in the journey of a group of young, homeless and vulnerably housed people for two months and began to find her own voice, while participants
found theirs and so I attempt to document the nature of that journey
and suggest the negotiations of ‘subjects in dialogue with each other’ (Madison
2005:9) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">With these considerations at the forefront of my
research, I hope to render, as best I can, a picture of the small victories,
failures and contradictions, experienced by all and examine of the nature of
personal and creative risk, in a C.C.T.V. ridden, risk assessed, post 9-11,
post New Labour Britain, as experienced by this group of young people. Consequently, the form of this case study is
informed by its emergent content, in that some of the voices you are about to
hear are not only those of the support staff, facilitators and participants, but
those of their characters too. I have
endeavoured to clarify with footnotes, references and appendices where the
words they speak are derived from, but as it became clear during the project,
there is a very thin line between reality and fiction, so thin, that as the
young actors developed their characters and director, Terry O’Leary scripted
them, it became difficult at times to distinguish between the two at all, as
these two characters from the play can confirm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ABDI: ‘Do
you know what? It wasn’t easy being
human. Very messy.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">CHRIS: ‘Very
confusing.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MADDY: Well,
yes. Quite.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[1]</span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kathleen Gallagher states ‘One can never be sure
to what extent life seeps into dramatic writing, what liberties are taken, what
imaginative trespassing has taken place, in the journeys into one’s own or
another’s life’. (Gallagher & Fine 2007:106) In the spirit of this
statement, I will concede that the same applies to my own writing here as I
‘approximate the way of the artist.... in aspiring to describe and interpret...
encounters’ (Simons in Winston 2006:45) However, I argue that as I pledged along
with the young people at the beginning of this project to take some creative
and personal risks, it is only fair that I should remain true to my word and
follow this course to the end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Anyway, enough about me, the young actors of
this piece are infinitely more interesting than I could ever be, but where to
start? Let’s start with comfort. Start with Tony McBride’s ‘Challenge by
Choice’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[2]</span></span></a>
model. Start with the three concentric circles of comfort, stretch and panic.
Start at the end; back in the centre, in your comfort zone and work your way
outwards, through the stretch circle, touch panic on the outside and keeping
going until you get back to the end…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DESIRE: ‘Do
you lot want to hear something?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MADDY: Did you want to say
something about comfort zones, Desire? Sure, go ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DESIRE: (raps) ‘Yo!
Who’s there to provide for the homeless?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> No-one!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Got
no food to eat,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> J.S.A.
money already gone,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Living
in a place we can’t call home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Money
spent on smoke,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> That’s
our comfort zone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Depression
seems to be the issue,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> She
can’t hack this, not used to being alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Have
it your way, see your G.P.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Get
depression pills for me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> No
way! I can’t pretend, won’t pretend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Do
your job man! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No idea
what it is to be me!’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[3]</span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MADDY: Thanks for that Desire, nice
to see you’re so enthusiastic! After all,
I thought your comfort zone included turning up to rehearsal hours late and
listening to your iPod during scenes?
And by the way, isn’t your comfort zone a little bit too close to panic
for comfort, if you see what I mean?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DESIRE: ‘Don’t
hate, [Maddy]: relate!’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[4]</span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MADDY: Terry,
why don’t you pull her up about this attitude? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">TERRY
O’LEARY: ‘I’ve got nothing, there’s
nothing I can say. That’s what you’ve
chosen to do and I’ve really got no time to focus on you. I need to get on, you play catch-up as and
when you feel like it... sometimes when you withdraw your love, it’s like “Hang
on a minute, that’s not what it’s supposed to be like. You’re supposed to start shouting at me. You’re supposed to be making an example of me,
but ignoring me is not what I thought”’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[5]</span></span></a>
(O’Leary 2011)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MADDY: Ok. So, basically you’re
letting her push your buttons and not reacting, to highlight to her, her
challenging behaviour? I think I get it:
Challenge by Choice, right? Choosing to step out of your behavioural comfort
zone for a while, in order to try something new.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Comfort<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Circle Bar at the Roundhouse has three walls
constructed mostly out of glass and with the unseasonably warm April weather,
combined with the afterglow of performance; it makes for greenhouse-like
conditions. There is a burble of excited,
congratulatory chatter between friends, family and staff. The cast receive their audience’s praise;
some shyly, some cockily, some warily as though still not sure how to take
positive feedback. Adrian Jackson from
Cardboard Citizens is milling around, chatting to some of them about the
project. Those familiar with Jackson’s
professional reputation are eyeing him talking animatedly to Mark<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[6]</span></span></a>,
a young man with a passion for Death Metal and someone who has found the process
a particular challenge. He is also
blissfully unaware of their envy: one gets the feeling that praise from Adrian
Jackson is the Holy Grail for some of the participants. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The crowd is called to attention by Terry
O’Leary, Associate Artist at Cardboard Citizens and Director of the Set the
Scene 2011’s production, ‘Audition of Dreams’ There are speeches and thanks to
everyone and then, a nice touch, awards for the cast. Someone has bought mini, fake Oscar statuettes,
each engraved with an award category:
Best Rapper/Dancer, Best Puppeteer, Best Wolf Girl, Best Death Metal
Head Ever, Best Presence in the Room. There has been much discussion over the
last two days about what the award categories should be. I am standing behind Adela, as they call out
the award for Best Vocalist. As soon as
she hears her name, without missing a beat, she turns her head and finds me
immediately, only to give me a smug ‘told you so’ look. The irony of this is not lost on me. I had
also been consulted on the award categories and heartily agreed with this one,
although some might argue, that in a one horse race, winning is a pyrrhic
victory: Adela had indeed been the only vocalist in the play. I laugh to myself, but it’s the first time I
have been able to laugh about it, since that afternoon’s dress run, but more of
that later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stretch<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Let’s go back to a taster session at the
Roundhouse on a chilly afternoon in February.
I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about this session. I have
worked with young people before in arts and educational settings before, but
this was predominantly in China where young adults are invariably more
compliant, particularly for a foreigner.
In this context, I am aware that I am a foreigner of a wholly different
kind: white, middle-class, highly
educated, privileged and never been homeless. As I hover in the reception feeling somewhat like an imposter, there
are one or two young people waiting and so I decide to talk to them. I approach a handsome, friendly-looking, young,
black man, dressed impeccably in the uniform of the young urban male: baggy
jeans, hoodie and baseball cap. “Hello. Are you here for the drama workshop?” I ask. The young man, looks me up and down like a butcher
eyeing a particularly fine side of beef, and shifts position towards me a
little, “Er, yeah. What are you here for? Drama as well?” he says, quite softly
with a flirtatious smirk. “Yes. Kind of.
I’m... sort of... one of the facilitators...” I
answer. The twinkle in the eye and the
smirk are quickly extinguished. Message
received: I am off limits to this apparent player. However, now that flirtation
is firmly off the table, we can have a real conversation. I discover his name is Lucas and that he is
new to drama<span style="color: #999999;">. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">There is another reason why Lucas has stuck in
my memory of this day. During the
workshop, the participants were asked to talk about themselves while a partner
listened and then the partner performed an impersonation of them to the whole
group. Lucas worked with Daniel, a young
man who had presented himself as a very confident and experienced actor, having
worked with the National Youth Theatre and Cardboard Citizens in the past. I had noted that when Daniel had introduced
himself at the start of the workshop, Lucas had clearly marked him out as a bit
cocky and therefore, as he saw it, his main rival for alpha male of the group. What none of us
knew at this point was that Daniel had previously subjected himself to a three
year, self-imposed silence and freely admits that this cockiness is a ‘mask’ he
has since adopted when feeling insecure or anxious<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn7" name="_ftnref7" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[7]</span></span></a>
(Tierney 2011). However, that day, Daniel
shared a confident and fairly accurate rendition of Lucas, at which all of the
group, including Lucas, had laughed with recognition. However, when asked by Terry how he felt
about being ‘done’ by Daniel in this way, Lucas, laughing, said “Well… you made
me look like a cunt!” Not quite the
response everyone had expected, but the timing of this very direct feedback
caused everyone to laugh, albeit slightly anxiously on account of Lucas’
language. On reflection, I wondered, despite
it being made to seem banter-like, what Lucas had meant by that comment? Daniel’s
‘Lucas’ wasn’t unkind or mocking in any way, just accurate and yet did Lucas
really feel affronted at being faced with this image of himself? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This incident came back to me in week five, when
Lucas was asked to embody a list of characteristics which are said to belong to
the Good Wolf, in a story which is told by a character in the play.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">JASMINE: “Don’t be scared” said the Granddad, “We
all carry two wolves inside us. One that
is brave, loyal, intelligent, gentle, protective, loving...”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">During this list, Lucas had been asked to slowly
stand, climb up onto a chair and physicalise all of these qualities. On the first try, Lucas stands up on the
chair and as he embodies the words, his torso starts to turn to the left,
leaving him almost side-on to the audience.
Terry asks them to stop and go back, reminding Lucas to keep facing
straight out front. Again, Jasmine
begins her story and once again, Lucas’ left shoulder begins to creep back and
his body follows. This actor is trying
to hide. Why? Is this such a big risk for him? Is he scared
to take his place on the stage? This is
strange for one who seems so confident in many other respects, especially with
the opposite sex. Maybe it’s because
this actor, I later discover, is struggling to stay in recovery, is struggling
to stay on the right side of the law, and is struggling to marry his public
image of Player and his private tendency towards deep, intellectual reflection<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn8" name="_ftnref8" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[8]</span></span></a>.
Emily Momoh, the Roundhouse’s resident
youth support worker, who supports the conception of drama as a reflection of
an internalised self, pointing out that when ‘you’re just in that zone... it
all seems ok and quite normal, but then if you see it in the mirror, it doesn’t
look so attractive!’ (Momoh, 2011)<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn9" name="_ftnref9" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[9]</span></span></a>
Perhaps for him, he was still looking in the mirror and seeing that image of a
young man struggling which was forcing him further into his personal stretch
zone. It is also possible, however, that
this actor just thinks it looks better played that way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And what of the other wolf in our story? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">JASMINE: [the] one that is a loner,
savage, sly, cruel, greedy, destructive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Our gentle giant of a Death Metal fan, Mark
A.K.A. Darkhole Villain, takes his turn to embody this wolf. He slowly and gingerly climbs up onto the chair,
his large frame slightly encumbered by the black padded parka coat that appears
to be surgically attached to him, regardless of temperature. He begins to
transform into what, unfortunately, looks more like a frightened puppy than a savage
wolf! Terry stops him, asks him to stop
hiding his face and try again. Mark had
earlier that week asked both Terry and I to be much harder on him when he makes
mistakes, to shout at him; so far, all that has happened is that Mark has had
lines taken away from him. After another
failed attempt at embodying this savage wolf Terry shouts ‘I’ll give this to
you Mark, if you just dare to be! You’re
not scared: you’re METAL!’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn10" name="_ftnref10" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[10]</span></span></a>
This time, (albeit, with me standing on
a chair at the back of the room physicalising the wolf for Mark to mirror), he
gets it! He not only gets it, but
improvises a lone “Awooooooooooooooooooooh!” at the end! This is major progress for someone who
admitted to being afraid of ‘a lot of things... [he] was keeping in... [his]
stomach’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn11" name="_ftnref11" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[11]</span></span></a> and
had, only days earlier, ripped up his script during the lunch break and announced
that he was dropping out of the project. Emily Momoh explains that this darker side to
Mark’s identity was something he had been struggling with, in that as a young
black man interested in Death Metal music, he was aware of going against the
dominant stereotype of the young black male and as a result excluding himself from
his peers. The main challenge for him was
to decide whether that was a part of his identity that he could accept himself
and by doing so, also be able to embody that savage, lone wolf of the story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DARKHOLE VILLAIN: ‘Got to take risks!’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mark was also, despite suffering from dyslexia and literacy problems, incredibly articulate and vocal about feeling
let down by society and government. He
claimed to have kicked in a few windows (with his face covered) during the
previous weekend’s anti-cuts rally, despite his claims of not being very
political. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DARKHOLE VILLAIN: ‘Defy the tyrant! Don’t be
silent!’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Chris Johnston points out ‘Artists and creatives
who rage against the system, turn instinctively to others who rage’ (Johnston 2004:107)
a raging echoed by Mark and his character, Darkhole Villain. Many of the young
people on the project expressed the desire not only to do drama, but to meet
new people and there were numerous references to getting on with people they
normally wouldn’t talk to. As Lucas admitted
‘Usually, I wouldn’t have really got on with people who were homosexual, I
recollect when in the Hub when Terry asked us to put a dance together and I was
with **** (an ‘out’ gay male member of the cast), it was something different
for me.’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn12" name="_ftnref12" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[12]</span></span></a>
(Tierney 2011) But who or what are these young creatives raging against? Is it
themselves, the Cop in the Head (Boal 2006:40-46), family, the Government, Society?
Maybe it’s all of these and none of
them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">These young people are a generation who have grown
up in the context of New Labour’s ‘Third Way’ policy agenda (Byrne 2008 151-168)
which would have them labelled as ‘NEETs ‘ (ibid. 160) but was actually more
concerned with ‘incorporation’ (ibid.166) back into the neo-liberal mainstream
of good producer consumers. However, I
question if exclusion is a passive action being done to them or if it isn’t
that they exclude themselves as an act of rebellion because ‘reality to a lot
of young people is bullshit’ (Momoh 2011). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">DARKHOLE VILLAIN: ‘That’s it!
That’s it! You care about real
stuff. Stuff that hurts. You make me ask the question. About me.
Little sister, you make me think.
Think about what was wrong with me.
What did I lack in my liberation effort?
The revolution will not be televised.
That was a lie. They just forgot
to mention, we aren’t interested. The
Only Way is Essex! Why did I continue to
believe things will get a little bit better?
‘Coz I believed in my society, which made me the greatest second class
citizen in history!’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn13" name="_ftnref13" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[13]</span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Perhaps this raging against the system is a
hangover from New Labour’s Respect Agenda which proposed ‘to promote respect positively;
bear down uncompromisingly on anti-social behaviour’ (Home Office in Gaskell
2008:2). In a society which promotes ‘a
specific conceptualisation of... youth as potentially dangerous and in need of
(state) control’ (Gaskell 2008:3) and ‘unnecessary and excessive risk is
commonly associated with deviation from the... culturally determined norm’
(Harari 2009:174), perhaps the need to feel stretch and panic, whether a
negative or positive experience, has become an essential coping mechanism and
the level of mistrust of society’s dominant forces has led to a tendency to
react with what is commonly perceived to be ‘anti-social’ at any perceived
moment of objectification by the state.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">However, to suggest that any of these young
people are really that radical would be misleading. As I have already proposed, the line between
reality and fiction is gossamer thin and the image of the revolutionary, I
suspect, is mostly fantasy (Momoh 2011).
This notion of fantastical, unrealistic thinking and that some young
people are ‘locked into a fantasy kind of idea about what [they] are capable of
doing and what [they] deserve’ (Johnston, C. 2004:109) is illustrated in a most
unnerving way by our last character.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Panic<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">RACHAEL: ‘Revenge
is a dish best served cold.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Adela A.K.A. Rachael, if you remember, the award
winner for Best Vocalist at the post show celebrations, sees singing as a large
part of her identity. It was something she spoke about often and with
authority. Consequently, when she was asked
to sing in the show, she obliged willingly. She had two short songs, one near the
beginning and another to close the play.
However, at the tech rehearsal it became clear that the final song was problematic, sung acapella in an acoustically problematic space. Clearly struggling, Adela was singing the song
flat. Terry and I decided that perhaps we
could persuade her to cut the worst offending section and with my own training
as a singer, I might help her with some guidance on phrasing and
pitching. Having spoken to me about her
singing teacher, I assumed anything I had to say would be familiar to her. How wrong I was! As soon as the subject was broached, she
claimed to not understand what I was suggesting, looked at me as if to say
“What the hell do you know?” and with that, I saw the metaphorical shutters
lower over any window of opportunity to improve matters. ‘Are you OK?
I ask. ‘Yep, I’m fine’ says
Adela, and stomps off in the direction of the bathrooms. Suddenly panic hits
me. Had I been too harsh? Had I been undiplomatic in my approach? Had I not been constructive? I thought I had
developed a good rapport with her. I
tell Terry what has happened and she assures me it’s fine, but when we come to
that afternoon’s dress run, it is very clear everything is not fine. When Adela’s first line comes, there is a gap
in between cues you could drive a bus through, which is finally broken with the
most monotone, lacklustre, uninspiring response known to man. I see the eyes of cast members flick across
in confusion and I feel myself sink into my seat. She delivered every line of that run in the
same fashion, including the songs, slumped in her seat on stage in front of the
Artist Director of The Roundhouse, who had come to watch. There were also
threats to leave before the evening performance, sending a wave of panic
through the whole production. She didn’t leave, of course. This diva was going
nowhere. Later she claimed that it was
because during that week everyone had started to boss each other around a bit
too much and it had got out of hand<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftn14" name="_ftnref14" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[14]</span></span></a>,
but it is interesting that when I caught up with Terry a couple of weeks after
the end of the project she told me that Adela, who is also attends sessions at
Cardboard Citizens, is still ignoring her and she has alienated herself from
the rest of the cast of ‘Audition of Dreams’: apparently the feeling is mutual.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">One last note on comfort, stretch and panic:
after the last performance, Terry sidles up to me in the pub and says “I’d have
never told you this before, but that’s the first play I’ve directed that wasn’t
Forum.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<b><u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bibliography<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Boal,
A. (2006) <i>The rainbow of desire,</i>
(trans. Jackson, A.), London & New York, Routledge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gallagher,
K. & Fine, M. (2007) <i>The theatre of
urban : youth and schooling in dangerous times,</i> Toronto, Buffalo,
University of Toronto Press.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gaskell,
C. (2008) ‘”But they just don’t respect us”: Young people’s experiences of
(dis)respect citizenship and the New Labour Respect Agenda.’ in <i>Children’s geographies, </i>vol. 6, no. 3,
August 2008, London, Routledge: 223-238<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Harari,
D. (2009) ‘Risk in performance: Facing the future, in <i>Theatre Research International, </i>vol.34, no.2, Cambridge, Cambridge
Journals: 173-179<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Johnston,
C. (2004) ‘The Role of the Camshaft in Offender Rehabilitaion’ in Balfour, M.
(ed) <i>Theatre in Prison: Theory and
Practice, </i>Bristol and Portland, Intellect Books: 107-122<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Madison,
D. Soyini (2005) <i>Critical Ethnography:
Method, ethics and performance, </i>London, Sage Publications Ltd.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Momoh,
E. (2011) Interview discussing the Set the Scene 2011 project, 27.4.11 (see
abridged transcript, Appendix D)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">O’Leary,
T. (2011) Interview discussing the Set the Scene 2011 project, 26.4.11 (see
abridged transcript, Appendix B)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">O’Reilly,
K. (2009) <i>Key concepts in Ethnography,</i>
London, Sage Publications Ltd.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tierney,
J. (2011) Evaluative group discussion (I) with selected cast members, 14.4.11
(see abridged transcript, Appendix E)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tierney,
J. (2011) Evaluative group discussion (II) with selected cast members, 14.4.11
(see abridged transcript, Appendix C)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Winston,
J. (2006) ‘Researching through case study’ in (ed.) Ackroyd, J. <i>Research methodologies for drama education,</i>
Trentham, Stoke on Trent: 41-62</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[1]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Throughout, all characters and
dialogue devised by the participants, scripted by Terry O’Leary for ‘Audition
of Dreams’. Character of ‘Maddy' added by me as a device for this case
study. Any other exceptions are stated
separately.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[2]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Appendix A<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[3]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Rap written by the actress
playing Desire, included in ‘Audition of Dreams’.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn4">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[4]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Field notes: said by the
actress playing Desire. Also Appendix B<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn5">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[5]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Appendix B<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn6">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[6]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Names of participants have
been changed throughout.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn7">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref7" name="_ftn7" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[7]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Appendix C<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn8">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref8" name="_ftn8" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[8]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">He had badgered me throughout
the project to give him a copy of my field notes to remind him of what we’d
done, but I suspect he was curious about why I found the process so fascinating
from an academic aspect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn9">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref9" name="_ftn9" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[9]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Appendix D<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn10">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref10" name="_ftn10" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[10]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Field notes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn11">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref11" name="_ftn11" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[11]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Field notes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn12">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref12" name="_ftn12" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[12]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Appendix E<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn13">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref13" name="_ftn13" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[13]</span></span></span></a>
<span lang="EN-US">Edited version of a poem
included in the play which Mark claimed to have written. I can not confirm or deny that his claim is
true.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn14">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=231754856723505913#_ftnref14" name="_ftn14" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">[14]</span></span></span></a>
</span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Appendix E</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-29634138783857697022012-01-12T15:17:00.002+00:002012-01-12T15:17:41.751+00:00Like a stopped clock...The New Year's spanking new shine is beginning to dull slightly, Christmas is packed away for another eleven months, we're back into our little routines, except what happens when you don't have a routine? What happens when the new year hasn't really begun for you... it's just hanging around at the starting line, stalled? Like the train announcer's lazy excuse, there is snow/flooding/leaves/a person on the line.<br />
<br />
You start out with good intentions, you buy a diary, you make plans, you check the job ads and you try to establish a routine regardless. But after a couple of weeks of looking at your lovely new diary's empty pages, you're still making plans, but you start to press that snooze button a couple more times in the morning. You start to scale your plans down a bit. You receive a rejection letter: it's good news, you're over-qualified. Or you don't match the criteria as well as someone else. <br />
<br />
Or you just don't ever hear anything. <br />
<br />
You start to consider jobs which you don't really want. You know your heart's not in it and it will show at interview if you are lucky enough to get one, but you apply anyway, because a diary filled with job application deadlines is better than one filled with nothing at all. <br />
<br />
You don't get an interview for the job you didn't really want in the first place.<br />
<br />
The clock ticks.<br />
<br />
The taps drips.<br />
<br />
You start to talk to yourself. You have those interviews anyway... in your head. <br />
<br />
"Yes, I really love interacting with the general public and I found working in Customer Services really rewarding. You talk so many interesting people!"<br />
<br />
"I'm passionate about participatory arts. I really believe that community involvement can make such a difference in people's lives."<br />
<br />
"I'm very keen to work with young people because so many of them are so talented and yet just don't get the opportunities they deserve."<br />
<br />
"I was awarded a distinction for my Masters and my writing was consistently marked at this level throughout my course. It was hard work, but it was worth it!"<br />
<br />
"Oh yes, I do have a good sense of humour! I wouldn't be here interviewing for a minimum wage job in your cafe otherwise, would I? Ha ha!"<br />
<br />
Oh, how we laughed! <br />
<br />
We got on like a house on fire, we really did... but obviously I still have other applicants to see.<br />
<br />
Thanks for coming in today, Madelaine... I'll be in touch.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-88254155904700938712011-11-16T11:30:00.000+00:002011-11-20T15:50:54.739+00:00The Laminated Woman<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I've been volunteering with a family learning programme at HMP Holloway in Resettlement every couple of weeks. Yesterday, I was there assisting the women in making books for their kids, nieces, nephews... <br />
<br />
They had started them the previous week (I hadn't been there) and so this time some of the women arrived with things they'd prepared during the week to laminate in this session. As the children of these women are of mixed ages and interests, there was a mixture of educational books; simple alphabet, counting and vocabulary books decorated with pictures of characters from kids TV. One woman had, with her nail scissors, painstakingly cut out and stuck down dozens of tiny shapes for counting. Others had opted for kind of memory books for their kids; they had brought photographs of memorable outings or school pictures, favourite places, treasured holidays and had stuck them on paper and written captions. One YO (who was serving a sentence for her involvement in the August riots) made a gorgeous wee book of things that she likes to do for her son and things she'd like to do in the future, stories, drawings, puzzles and illustrations. She was extremely careful to make sure that all the spellings were correct (continuously asking me to confirm what she already knew, but hey) and had clearly put a lot of thought into it. <br />
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Another woman had prepared material for THREE books during the week in her cell and was keen to have it all laminated. She was quite determined and slightly manic in her insistance on laminating anything that wasn't nailed down. Unfortunately, due to funding constraints the number of laminating pouches was limited and so it was necessary to ask her to edit a bit. She mainly wanted to protect the pictures of her two kids, so I began to fit them into pouches: (something you might not know about me, but in my former life as an English Language teacher, I was obsessed with lamination, so at this point I was in heaven!) What was really interesting was the feeling of people desperately trying to be on their best behaviour. This woman I sensed would, in a different situation, have kicked off at not being allowed to laminate everything she wanted and yet here she was clearly aware of being seen to be reasonable and cooperative. She even offered to ask her Mum to take some pouches from her work (in the NHS) to reimburse us next time: robbing Peter to pay Paul kind of defeated the object, so it was declined in the genuinely giving spirit it which it was offered! Despite her best efforts, she was easily frustrated by things which presented even the slightest difficulty and so I had to give her a lot of support. She wanted to make a mood calendar but couldn't concentrate long enough to make sure that the grid had even spaces. She was on the verge of giving up, so I sat with her and showed her how to measure it with a ruler and divide the rows and columns of the grid evenly. She kept saying how grateful she was to my colleague that we come to the prison and provide this opportunity for the women to do things for their kids. No doubt she is grateful, as they all are: for women, incarceration hits hard. Many of the women I have met through these afternoon sessions are in the process of having their kids adopted, at best they are being cared for by a grandparent and on rare occasions, their father. One woman who put her head through the door to see what we were doing, said that she has grandchildren who have never seen her and so signed up for a later date. Having a space where they can come and make things for the important kids in their lives and, more significantly, talk about them, is extremely powerful considering that for most of the women, being able to be with their children is the only thing that is driving them forward to get out of prison and on the straight and narrow.<br />
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The woman with the three books had made a mistake: she had had me laminate a page which she hadn't meant to so that her child could write the answers in. Although I was secretly happy that we would save on laminating pouches if she wanted to go this way, I pointed out to her that actually this was better as her child could write things in the gaps and then wipe them away. The woman thought about this for a while and a little later, she said, "Oh! I get you now! Sorry, I didn't understand what you meant, but he can wipe it off if he makes a mistake." She seemed really pleased with this idea and it only struck me why later that evening: everything underneath remains protected, but you can wipe the slate clean. You make a mistake and you wipe it clean. </div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-38469425213612017732011-11-15T22:25:00.000+00:002011-11-18T00:08:47.108+00:00His Teeth<div style="text-align: justify;">
Continuing on my prison related theatre theme, last night I went to see His Teeth from creative arts company, <a href="http://www.onlyconnectuk.org/" target="_blank">Only Connect</a>. I am quite familiar with Only Connect as an organisation because I wrote a case study about their work in the resettlement and rehabilitation of ex-offenders for my dissertation. However, I had never actually seen a full production by them.</div>
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His Teeth, written by Ben Musgrove, is inspired by the stories of Only Connect member Ralph Ojotu and tells the tale of a young man, Eric (Kareem Dauda) who comes to the UK illegally from Lagos, only to find himself under the control of human traffickers Roger (Dymond Allen) and Derek (Junior 'Mila' Miller). Unable to run because of his illegal status, Eric finds himself minding trafficked children and is irresistibly drawn to drug addict Sarah (Eleanor Wyld). Unfortunately for Eric, Sarah also happens to be Derek's girlfriend and when they finally do manage to run away together, Derek brutally murders (by decapitation) a young boy who was in Eric's care, thus framing Eric for the murder. The plot is complicated by a sub-plot involving the police officer (Harry Raffety) who becomes obsessed with not only catching Eric, but also with Sarah. A confident Harry Raffety handles his character's slightly bizarre progression very convincingly, but despite this, the narrative is often confusing and would possibly have benefitted from further dramaturgical work.</div>
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However, Designer Takis' gauze box, inside which the majority of the action takes place and the projection work of Mic Pool, leads us on an atmospheric journey from the jungles of Nigeria, to the council estates of London and are used to great effect to suggest the paranoid and drug-addled mental states of the characters. Having said that, the gauze box at times was limiting as it meant that often the characters appeared to be in 'soft-focus', which was appropriate sometimes, but I personally would have liked to have been able to see the often nuanced performances of the actors.</div>
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Which brings me to the real revelation of the piece: the cast. The majority of the actors are ex-offenders or at least have a some point been at risk of offending and similarly they have had no or little theatrical training prior to joining O.C. Only Connect prides itself on producing professional standard theatre (as it's ticket prices will attest!) and certainly the production values here would not have looked out of place in any mid-scale theatre. Often I suspect people are generally kinder when critiquing theatre staged with non-actors and this practice is open to debate when paying audiences are involved, but certainly these actors could hold their own with any seasoned professional. While one must give great credit to Director, Maggie Norris for coaxing such detailed work out of her inexperienced cast, Kareem Dauda in particular, brought such vulnerability and poignancy to the role of Eric and, as the central character, he held the play together with great aplomb. Dauda is due to start professional training in the new year and despite his hang-doggedness about the lack of agents willing to come and see an ex-offender during our conversation after the show, I have no doubt that he has a good chance of being able to secure more paid acting work in the future.</div>
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Think Tank, <a href="http://www.philanthropycapital.org/default.aspx" target="_blank">New Philanthropy Capital</a> recently published their <a href="http://www.philanthropycapital.org/publications/community/unlocking_value.aspx" target="_blank">research</a> into the economic value of the arts in the criminal justice system and coincidentally use Only Connect as a case study in this report. There has also been much general discussion about the economic value of the arts in our society of late, however, much of this discussion, I feel misses the point. Yes, there are transferable skills to be gained through participation in the arts which will improve people's chances of employment or, in the case of offenders, reduce the economic consequences of crime by reducing re-offending. However, the focus on the economic is only half the story. The sense of achievement to be gained from taking a bow at the end of a performance or seeing your artwork exhibited or your writing published cannot be measured in economic terms, especially when one considers that 42% of male prisoners (52% for young offenders) were permanently excluded from school <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(<a href="http://www.prisonreformtrust.org.uk/Portals/0/Documents/Fact%20File%20June%202011%20web.pdf" target="_blank">Prison Reform Trust 2011:54</a>) </span>and that only one in five are able to complete a job application form <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(ibid.)</span>. If you have already been failed or betrayed by the mainstream avenues to becoming a functioning member of society, these not insignificant moments of victory can be a powerful catalyst to change, after all, many prisoners haven't even been particularly successful in crime or they wouldn't be in custody in the first place! </div>
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Director, Chris Johnston (of <a href="http://www.rideout.org.uk/" target="_blank">Rideout</a>, Creative Arts for Rehabilitation) writes excellently about the 'easy dreaming' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Theatre-Prison-Practice-Michael-Balfour/dp/1841500666" target="_blank">Johnston in Balfour 2004:107-122</a>) </span>of the offender which often involves fantastical, but poorly thought through solutions to problems. He goes on to say 'the act of dreaming is a kind of self-hypnosis in which unsustainable aspirations are buckled on like the armour of ancient warriors' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(ibid.) </span>This dreaming, whilst often being compensatory and escapist, is of course a product of incredible imaginative powers and it is these imaginative powers which, when channelled in a more structured way, can allow the opportunity for participants in arts projects to explore these poorly written personal narratives, articulate the inarticulable and begin to imagine new personal narratives or at least entertain the possibility of their existence.</div>
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In the case of His Teeth, and also of Unprovoked (see previous blog post) for Ojotu, Foley and the actors, being given the opportunity to tell these stories, has, no doubt in their own ways, been transformative for the tellers and for the audience a chance to consider what one's own narrative might have been in similar circumstances. While everyone will take something different from stories such as these, one cannot put a price on these experiences. As <a href="http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1921/einstein-bio.html" target="_blank">Einstein</a> once said 'Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.'*</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">*Thanks to whoever it was at the recent Anne Peaker Debate who expressed something similar!</span></div>
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<br /></div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-3564975162300634602011-11-13T22:30:00.009+00:002011-11-13T22:41:31.381+00:00Unprovoked<div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Last night I jumped on the 31 bus to one of my favourite venues, <a href="http://www.roundhouse.org.uk/">The Roundhouse</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.roundhouse.org.uk"></a> in Camden to see 'Unprovoked' by Kathrine Smith. The play tells the harrowing story of the murder of the 15 year old daughter of Mary Foley at the hands of another young woman at a party in 2005. The story leads us through the events surrounding the death of 'Olivia' (Lala Semakula), through the trial of 'Chloe' (Daniella Lamattina), her killer, and chronicles how Foley came to find it in her heart to forgive her daughter's killer.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Featuring an all-female cast of young actors, the tale was simply staged by Directors, Angus Scott-Miller and Emily Momoh with minimal set, using only projected images as a backdrop. This story needs little embellishment as the emotional journey of Mary Foley through shock, grief, anger and finally reconciliation, a journey deftly handled by Lorna Gayle, is moving to say the least. It is especially inspiring to know that Foley has continued to work with <a href="http://www.theforgivenessproject.com/">The Forgiveness Project</a> to tell her story in prisons and youth groups to prevent more unnecessary deaths of young people at the hands of their peers. The play serves as a realistic portrayal of the growing, but little reported on occurrence of girl-on-girl knife crime and reflects the messiness of urban teenage relationships, the nature of violence and the power of forgiveness.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Mary Foley, was present for the performance, the first time that she had seen the story played out in front of her. She sat dead centre in the front row and after the performance, despite being visibly moved by what she had seen, she took part in a Q & A session with the audience, supported by Marina Cantacuzino from The Forgiveness Project. What struck me was how this quite ordinary woman, caught in a quite extraordinary situation, responded in such a way that makes us all question, how strong we might have been, faced with such monumental trauma. Foley, however, is quite clear on the factors which led to forgiveness. She described becoming aware of changing, putting up barriers and retreating from her family and friends. She eventually found herself in a very dark place, full of bitterness and anger but it was at this point when she began to entertain the word 'forgiveness'. The more she reflected on what this word might really mean, the more she realised that actually, as she says 'forgiveness is not a weakness', but it is in fact, a way of taking charge of our lives and removing the power from those who have hurt us.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Another factor which was key in her path to reconciliation, was correspondence with her daughter's killer and beginning restorative processes. The more she began to find out about this young woman's childhood, one which had been filled with domestic violence and abuse, the more she was able to look beyond the pain and grief, to see the bigger picture and the humanity of her daughter's killer. As Foley says, this doesn't mean that it justifies the violence or that it negates the inherent injustice of this brutal and unprovoked attack on an innocent young woman. Quite the opposite, she sees it as 'an act of freedom' and her continuing educational work as a way of paying tribute to her daughter.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Inevitably, the subject of this summer's riots was raised in the Q & A and we can, I believe, learn much from Foley's experiences. She is adamant that communication and open-heartedness is the way forward. By taking the time to listen to what is going on in the lives of our young people and to genuinely try to understand them, we might begin to instill a sense of self-worth and self-respect. The celebration of their gifts and talents, rather than the 'monstering' of these disaffected young people, might just encourage them to in turn, celebrate their own gifts and talents and those of their peers. After all, as Foley herself speculated, after hearing about some of the troubled lives that these young people lead, could you honestly say you'd be any different in the same environment? It is perhaps easy to be dismissive and indignantly say "Of course I would!" but on the opposite side of the same coin, could you say you'd be able to forgive, like Mary Foley did? I'd like to think I would, but I suspect I'm not that brave.</span></div>Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-24331269357261625792010-12-31T13:11:00.003+00:002010-12-31T13:22:53.555+00:00Self discipline is distinctly lacking...But good intentions are here....<br /><br />2010 was a year of out with the old in with the new, it seems.<br /><br />I became a student again.<br />I spent 9 months of it travelling solo in S.E. Asia.<br />I realised I'm definitely not the girl I once was.<br />Some old friends fell by the wayside, only to be replaced by some new ones.<br />My infernal drifting from one job/country/obsession to the next seems to have lead somewhere after all.<br />I think I finally said goodbye to a major ratbag in my life... <br /><br />Roll on 2011.<br /><br />This year I'm going to take more care of my friends.<br />I'm going to suck up everything my Masters throws my direction.<br />I'm going to stop being passive agressive, but learn to be direct without pissing too many people off.<br />I'm going to manage my money better.<br />I'm going to get back into being healthy.<br />I'm going to stop being afraid to make something of my life.<br />I'm definitely going to recover some of the joy lost over the last few years.<br /><br /><br /><br />and finally...<br /><br /><br />No musicians, actors, barmen or socialists.Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-71312194744225602312009-12-18T17:55:00.001+00:002009-12-18T18:00:09.556+00:00The Tuk-Tuk Bar or The dangers of following in the father's footsteps.On my way back to my guest house, I hear laughter and loud live music up ahead and I find an open sided bar half full with people laughing and watching a few older people totally wigging out to two Thai men playing The Rolling Stones. It is seriously like witnessing your drunken relatives dancing at a wedding. The dancing man is definitely the proud owner of a Freedom Pass and sweating profusely, but having a good time. I decide to stop in for a nightcap. I grab a beer and sit down in the back of the bar on a table next to a couple of younger local guys who look like they are in a of Thai version of Guns & Roses. No sooner do I sit down, than one of them offers me a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. I smile and thank him, but decline.<br /><br />The two older men are proper hipsters: Fu Manchu beards, long hair, round, David Hockney, horn-rimmed glasses and flat caps. (Tianjin ‘Jims’ people, think older Mr Zhou but not into lift muzak!) They are also quite good. They run the gamut of 70’s rock and do it well. The young guys next to me are using their table as percussion to play along drunkenly and the tequila guy leans over and shouts to me that one of the guys playing is his father. “He’s cool”, I say. “Oh, fuck him!” he says. Oh… “Sorry, so sorry, I’m drunk…”. It’s clear there are some Daddy issues going on here. I discover that these two guys are also in a rock band, but they don’t play in the bar (his fathers). Meanwhile, the Dad has been watching our conversation guardedly and makes a face to me as if to say “Sorry, my son is a drunk”. I am beginning to get the picture. The son actually seems quite nice, but just a little worse for wear and his friend is really nice and coherent. As we talk about what kind of music they play, the son looks really very sad and is clearly slightly embarrassed at trying to hold a sensible conversation with this sober foreign woman so far under the influence of the tequila. During his table drumming he manages to rattle a small bottle of what seems to be a kind of vitamin drink off the table and it smashes on the floor. At this point, he just slumps in his chair and puts his head in his hands. The Dad gives a withering look and I feet quite sorry for all involved.<br /><br />They wind up the music and the Dad comes over to talk to me. He is very sweet and friendly and as the other people start to leave the bar, I end up chatting to him and another local guy; his friend who makes acoustic guitars. The friend tells me that the Dad is an artist and university lecturer and taught the Kind of Thailand painting…. I am a little sceptical, until he pulls out the guy’s catalogue, with an introduction by the King himself! He is actually pretty good, most of this stuff being paintings of jazz musicians and instruments. I’m told that the King of Thailand was in younger days also quite the musician and has jammed with the Dad! Now I understand the father - son dynamic to a tee… it’s the same story the world over. What a pair of shoes to walk in, eh?Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-2910959619460153972009-12-18T17:35:00.001+00:002009-12-18T17:39:25.175+00:00The Devil you know...I find myself a little pop-up pavement ‘restaurant’, mainly full of locals and order myself some noodles. I sit down on one of the mini plastic stools (not made for anyone over 5’6’ but, hey! When in Rome and all that.) and a really sweet guy brings my food over and has a chat with me as I wrestle with getting my Thai sim card into my phone. A few minutes later, as I’m tucking in a guy comes up to me, who I recognise as the same guy who had called out something to me about looking good, earlier that afternoon.<br /> <br />“Hey, how are you? You remember me? I called to you earlier””<br />“Uh-huh”<br />“Where are you from?”<br />“London”<br />“I’m from Guinea Bissau. Are you alone?”<br />“Sort of”<br />“Is that real?” (gesturing to the big turquoise ring I bought in Tibet)<br />“What do you mean?”<br />“The ring, is it real? Are you married?”<br />“Er, yes, it’s real, but it’s on the wrong hand… I’m not married”<br />“Oh, we can be friends, I thought maybe you are afraid of guys so you pretend to be married”<br /><br />Oh brother! Go away.<br /><br />“I’m meeting my boyfriend”<br />“Oh, can I get an address or something, so we can stay in touch?”<br />“No. I’m meeting my boyfriend”<br /><br />At this point the Thai guy on the food stall comes over and hovers… Guinea Bissau makes a swift exit… some things never change, eh? Including my lack of interest in men who make cat calls at lone women walking down the street…Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-61069033947764273722009-12-18T15:40:00.001+00:002009-12-18T15:44:34.067+00:00Touching the VoidAnd so, fighting the jet-lag, I get myself a good breakfast and decide to get my bearings. I am full of bright ideas of stuff to go and see, but honestly, my body absolutely refuses to volunteer the energy necessary to get my shit together and predictably, I am drawn like a moth to the flame to the ‘farang’ wonderland that is Khao San Road. I soon realise that last night, in my jet-lag induced fug, I didn’t actually get to the Khao San Road and I had only wandered along a neighbouring street, so you can imagine my distain for the real Khao San! I won’t go into too much detail, but with the music, the stalls, the tourists and chaos of signage screaming silently at me it’s enough to give my brain one of those spinning disc icons that my computer gets when I ask it to do too much at the same time! <br /><br />I have some stuff to sort out i.e. decide what I’m going to go next and so I get to the task in hand and check out guest houses and travel options, all the while fighting off the offers of tut-tuk tours and the advances of old women in traditional garb trying to sell me stuff… Lady, seriously, I don’t want to buy a carved wooden croaking frog toy/percussion instrument! It really doesn’t matter how many times you ask me!<br /><br />After a couple of blocks of this, I really need out, so I stroll down over to the river and take a seat in a quiet spot. Sitting taking in the passers by, I suddenly have a minor panic attack… what the hell am I doing? I have just left friends, family, security and a perfectly good job, got on a plane halfway around the world, with no solid plan, no real contacts, I’m alone and prone to episodes of minor depression… I must be crazy! After a sneaky cigarette, I find myself thinking about what made me happiest when I was away from creature comforts in China and I decide I need food… I need good old -fashioned street food and I need it NOW!Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-55882487105825776872009-12-18T14:46:00.002+00:002009-12-18T14:52:58.523+00:00One night in Bangkok <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/chunchilla/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;">So I arrived on Monday.<span style=""> </span>Took a walk around the Khao San Road area and decided very quickly it wasn’t for me.<span style=""> </span>Had a couple of beers and some street food and went to bed.<span style=""> </span>Luckily I chose a hostel away from the main drag in a nice quiet spot and so I had a pretty good and well needed night’s sleep; at least, that is, until about 7.15am when I was rudely awoken by crashing footsteps from above and strong Bangkok sunlight pissing through the huge window next to my bed…<span style=""> </span>Ah, welcome to the world of the backpacker!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;">Yes, folks, I have begun this new adventure in the style I must become accustomed to... the lumpy pillows, the bugs, the unlined curtains, the paper-thin walls, the smell of the unwashed gap-year traveller, the earnestly dreaded and pierced cultural vampires, the drug tourists, the sex tourists, the package tourists, the ravers and rockers, the tuk-tuk chancers and two-bit hookers, the lady boys and lovers.<span style=""> </span>You name it, I’ll find them for you!</p> <!--EndFragment--> Madelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231754856723505913.post-37304145742614951092009-02-21T16:01:00.001+00:002009-02-21T16:03:41.894+00:00How to look good naked?!Right, I’m diverging from training musings today… Is it me or do you not find the whole positive reinforcement shtick of being bigger than a size 6 by fashion pundits really offensive? Now, shtick with me here (see what I did there?), because it’s really bothering me. I decided to brave Westfields the other day to see if I could find a pair of jeans which don’t totally change shape after 15 minutes of wear, (yes, jeans again, I’m obsessed with them, I know… and no, I’m not back in the Fall ’05 jeans again… yet). I walk into well-known, high street retailers and haven’t mooched for more than about 90 seconds before over the p.a. systems comes “Hi Gorgeous! I’m Gok Wan and I’d like to tell you…. Blah, blah, blah.” Hi Gorgeous? How do you know? And who bloody asked you anyway? Never mind the fact that I might look like Shrek’s less attractive sister! Never mind the fact that our Mr Wan is already on my T.V. every 5 seconds, but can I not even go for a bit of shopping without being aurally accosted by this man? How to Look Good Naked, Miss Naked UK… what is this man’s obsession with naked women, he’s gay for God’s sake! Even in his presenter spot at the Brit Awards, he couldn’t help himself asking if the audience thought they looked good naked. If it was a hot, young, STRAIGHT guy or, for that matter, a woman, telling me how gorgeous I am, even though I can barely lift myself off the sofa without having a stroke, I’d feel patronized, but bloody hell! Who is this guy and what’s he doing in my shopping meditation? Don’t get me wrong, God knows I do love a poof, but who took it upon themselves to make Gok the gay best friend the nation never had? Sorry, but Alan Carr has his feet firmly in those shoes and I know who’d I’d rather spend an evening with. So what if he used to be fat, so what if he was bullied at school for being different (yes I saw the program he made and yes, I think it’s great he’s helping young people overcome prejudice); he triumphed over fashion adversity, great! But why has he taken it upon himself to encourage people to get their kit off on my T.V? <br /><br />Actually, perhaps I am being a little harsh; our Gok is just the most recent incarnation of all those T.V. makeover shows, which began, in the mid- ‘90’s, (don’t even get me started about Gillian McKeith or Trannie and Spanner). I understand that people have hang-ups about their bodies and for some people it causes real distress, but don’t you think we have all become a little too obsessed with the whole self-empowerment industry? I use this word, because that is what it’s become, an industry, let’s not be naive. Honestly, I might be a little hard on myself at times, but how is displaying my Dougal in the window of Debenhams going to help me exactly? There is such a thing as T.M.I. (too much information) dude! Without wanting to sound like Mary Whitehouse, it’s just so un-British apart from anything. I actively encourage the celebration of women with a lil’ bit more pushin’ in their cushion; goodness knows it’s been a long time coming! However, the idea that having the balls to get naked on national television somehow adds self-value is frankly, insulting. Did all those women who threw themselves under race horses, burned their bras and campaigned for women’s rights, do so in order to allow me to “get my tits out”, and show the world my “great arse”? I don’t think so, girlfriend! Isn’t it all just misogyny dressed up, “bang on trend” I might add, in sheep’s clothing? Why don’t we have a MR Naked UK, eh? Now, THAT I would watch.<br /><br />Here’s a tip for how to look good naked, inside and out… switch off the T.V. (ok, you can watch Newsnight; you can’t go wrong with a bit of Paxo), step away from the Ginsters, borrow some Noam Chomsky from the library and get down the gym.<br /><br />Here endeth the rant… Happy Self-Empowering amigos!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Playlist of the Week </span> <br /> “Give It To Me Baby ” – Rick James <br />“Tits on the Radio” – Scissor Sisters<br />“Fat Bottom Girls” – QueenMadelaine Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144411015731714843noreply@blogger.com0