A black eyed dog he called at my door
The black eyed dog he called for more
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog
A black eyed dog.
The black eyed dog he called for more
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog he knew my name
A black eyed dog
A black eyed dog.
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.
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 previously blogged, 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. Zygmunt Bauman writes most eloquently about the nature of community in our constantly shifting 'liquid' 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 concept 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 in my mind, for engaging "The Community" in the Arts.
Old Vic New Voices community musical, 'Epidemic' 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 Morgan Lloyd Malcolm, 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 Suzy Davies . Without giving too much away pre-opening night, our unfalteringly lovely Director, Alex Ferris has created a touching and very funny romp through our attitudes to our relationships, health, disability and the media.
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.
1/ We love to create.
2/ We have had disappointments, regrets and brushes with Black Dogs.
3/ We have experienced complicated human relationships.
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.
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 Black Dogs... even 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 John and Sophie, the Choreographers' warm-ups!
Community Theatre... thank you. You are our paradise found.
