Tuesday 17 November 2015

Cob Blog

It's another one of those posts I do that is more like a big list about me trying to process life/work stuff late at night. 

I want one of those ones that makes your teeth ache. 
You know, the ones that suck your thoughts out of your brain through a curly straw and then restructures them into something translatable, like bubbles?
One of those ones that whispers to you, looks you straight in the eye then slaps you round the face and runs away. 
I want one that shouts your name and then hides behind corners so you can't quite catch a glimpse. One that has a voice so strong you can still hear it through a hurricane that shares it's name with a middle aged condiment specialist. (Janet? Timothy? Violet? Sticky Stu?)
It doesn't tippex out the bits it doesn't want you to see. It doesn't make a fuss out of addressing you. 
It doesn't ask if you're going anywhere nice on your holidays next year. 

It's a furry animal and it doesn't give a flying fuck if you are allergic to it. It invites you in for a cup of (ethically sourced) tea. It offers you the comfiest chair, whacks the heating on because you are company and it would be rude not to. It is the only place where you can still get those biscuits that your Nan used to have when you were 5 and even though you knew they were from Poundland you could never find them anywhere else but they're here now and it wants you to have all of them and eat until you feel sick and happy and then a bit mad at yourself and then just full. It'll tuck you up in fresh sheets with just the right amount of pillows but it won't lie to you about the monsters in the wardrobe so don't you dare leave one leg hanging out. It remembers what the cold side of the pillow feels like. 

It doesn't mind if you don't listen but it demands your full attention. 
It wants you to love it but deep down it's really looking forward to a fight. 
It takes sick days. 
Yeah... a good old fight. It's heart is in the right place but it also wants to drop kick you just to see what happens. 

It's accent changes slightly every time depending on who it's speaking with because it likes to be accommodating and understands that not everyone calls bread rolls 'cobs'. 

It's the most optimistic pessimist you'll ever come across. 
It always runs for the bus and it always catches it. But then it has to stand. 

It's the type that old men smile at when it carries flowers down the street. The type that teenagers won't fess up to liking, that's when it know's it's on to a winner. 

It's tried cross stitch but it doesn't have the patience so it filled a box with silly string, wrapped it up and wrote your name on the tag in it's best handwriting. (It took evening classes in calligraphy but hasn't mastered the fountain pen.)

Are you bored yet?
It never asks that but it's always implied. 

There is no wrong answer but it knows the one closest to right. 

Shurrup ya twat. (It says.) ... Go on.

It's a pointless answer. 

A phantom wee. 

Hit it in the chest, 10 points. 

It's always the Beyonce but won't ignore Michelle. 

It's that song that goes duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duhhh... You know the one? Like duh duh duh duh duh duhhh.

It's what would happen if Mary Poppins jumped into a Dali painting by accident. 

A cinnamon roll. Tinfoil chewing gum. Wires made out of spaghetti that you can't find the end of but that'll knit you a bloody nice cardigan. Playdough under your nails but in your favourite colour. It ages you by decades but makes you feel young. Silly similies. Death Metaphor. Anthropompomorphism. Imagery that doesn't quite pin the tail on the moose. That one about the mood being like the weather that has fallacy in it. (gust of wind.)

Just random words squished next to each other really but take from that what you will. 

Is it easier to describe what it's not? Who cares. 
Warm custard in a holey boot. Holey as in has holes in it. But that's just because it's saving space for you. Room for a little one?

Dunno what work I wanna make. 
Dunno what sort of work I like to see. 

It saves the cheese sauce just before the point of curdle. It gets confused between pulling the trigger and a trigger warning. It gets up early to walk the dog but it won't make sense until after a coffee. 

I want one of those ones please. 

Monday 17 August 2015

A really long post where I talk about nothing really but use the word 'PLONK'

I liked the moment when the actor said 'fuck' and a woman turned to the man next to her with anticipation as she awaited his reaction to this. 
I like watching people sneak in late and and seeing a performer take a mental note of it as they clamber to the end of a row apologetically as everyone shuffles their bags under the chairs to avoid a trampling.
I like the giggle of a woman sat at the front, as someone on stage walks towards her, as she realises she is about to be spoken directly to, and might even have to do or say something to help the show progress. 

I like people watching.
A popular pass time, I think. Bunch of nosey rogues. 
In the street, in cafes, in parks, at work, in the theatre. 

That's not to say that when watching a show I'm not 'watching the show'. I am, but I find it incredibly hard not to be aware of what's going on around me (the same reason I sit at the back of buses or avoid seats near a wall in restaurants). I normally position myself at the back, in a corner, as high up as possible. (Creep). This partially must come from me, as a theatre maker (...maybe one day I'll find a label for how I see my role that fits properly, most I've tried so far feel a little bit on the tight side) wanting to get a sense for what reactions a piece might provoke, and take inspiration from them for my own work. It could also come from the part of me that has worked several roles within Front of House and Communications teams, getting a sense for what the audience response is in order to gage how to handle them when the doors are open and we're wishing them goodnight, or when reading audience survey feedback or planning action for a new season. 

But mainly I just like to catch the moments that most people miss, I am a moment-theif, indirectly third-wheeling on a moment between humans in the audience and humans onstage, between people in the audience and other people in the audience, between people and themselves. This is not in any way to undermine the work happening on stage, most of the time I am completely engaged, engrossed, other words beginning with 'en', but there's still something uber magnetic about the pull of my attention to shuffles, tuts, chunters, belly laughs, exchanged glances and tummy gurgles. 

If we have been to see a show together at some point, we might have shared a moment, I might have observed you in a moment, or we might have created a moment, you might have even caught me in a moment. At the same time I will have been gatecrashing other people's moments, a pat on the knee, a squeeze on the arm when a subject matter is close to home, a chuckle at a reference to a private joke. If you're reading this and think I'm some sort of weirdo (I am) for doing this then I encourage you to let yourself indulge in these moments next time you are in an audience or on stage too, but I'm well aware I am not the only person deliciously guilty of observational nosiness.  

I like the moment someone laughs at something no one else finds funny, and I like how other people react to this. I like when a performer makes a mistake and acknowledges it and the audience make a joint decision to support or condemn this. 

A swiftly brushed away tear, a tickly cough that interrupts a serious scene, the fizz of a can of pop, the drip of a spilled pint, a sigh of boredom, a gasp of shock, a scream of surprise, a wince at feedback from the microphone. Noticing someone else on the other side crying. You're the only 2 people crying. 

Figuring out who is what to who. Strangers. Work colleagues staying a polite distance, one looking distinctly uncomfortable in a sex scene. Old friends who both laugh at the word 'goo' whilst everyone else is silent. New friends who want to chat all the way through or are wishing it to start so they don't have to ask anymore awkward questions. 
Your Mum accidentally elbowing someone who you recognise in the head as you settle into your seat. Apologising profusely. 

A whole audience laughing, crying, staring blankly. A real crowd pleaser. An audience divider. A heckle. Heck! I'm particularly fond of the dynamics of a heckle. 

I saw a performance at a festival in Croatia once where a man kneeling on the front row (in the round) fell asleep mid-show and face-planted the stage. Plonk! Ouch. It's one of my favourite memories that makes me laugh every time I think of it (seriously, like when you start laughing in the cheese aisle of tesco because you remembered something that happened 3 years ago, and you have to disguise it by hiding behind a block of Cathedral City, pretending to care about the nutritional info, that sort of thing). The company performing took it extremely well and with true professionalism, it was a Romanian company and the guy on stage dressed as a rainbow unicorn stepped around him politely as he continued a jousting scene. The man didn't seem to bothered, and leaned on the shoulder of the person next to him (I presume a friend) to continue his snooze. 

Anyway, the reason I decided to write this post is because I've been in Edinburgh and feel as though I have spent as much time observing audiences as I have watching shows/drinking overpriced cider and it is only when seeing lots of theatre in a short space of time that I am faced with thinking about audience reactions so intensely. 

Also, I went to go and see The Letter Room performing their new show 'Five Feet In Front' (Northern Stage at Summerhall - highly recommend) and towards the end of the performance, the vibration from the speakers under the seats was so consuming that I genuinely thought we were having an earth quake. I glanced at my best friend sat next to me who could clearly sense my anxiety as I tried to figure out the logistics/likelihood of there being an earthquake at the exact moment the company launched into their final foot-stomping musical number and thought 'HA! I wish I could have seen my own face in that moment', and wondering how I would have reacted to someone else experiencing that too (probably with lots of concern and a little bit of wonder.) 

The embarrassment of a ringing mobile phone, a sniff, arms fighting for space on the arm rest, tall legs cramped into narrow rows meaning knees digging into the back of your chair, the restlessness of someone who cant decide whether their hair should be up or down, the hesitation when asked 'how are you all?' by the performer, someone 'whispering', an awkward smile at someone opposite, a dying flurry of mumbles as the lights dim, a concerned glance at the man next to you who is frowning because the actor just said 'fuck'. 


I realise that this has been a very long post about not very much at all. And I wish I could have caught the moment that you realised that. Or the point you decided to give up reading to the end. Well, now I've just told you all that that is a thing that I do, have a song by Francois Hardy. It's one of those songs that makes you want to sit in a window seat of a cafe sipping coffee (you like coffee because you're sophisticated) whilst it's raining outside and pretend you are the protagonist of a film, in the bit just before the big revelation (and you're also french): 

Cya x

Monday 27 July 2015

There's a Jelly Bean Party in My Rib Cage

Help! I’ve got jelly beans trapped in my chest and they are clogging up my brain.

Sitting in a calm environment, listening to music of choice, start to think about something, get a little bit excited about something. A little bit scared about something. A little bit like the first day back at school after the summer holidays or going to work with a new haircut or attempting to sing in public for the first time, or asking someone if they think you’re well fit or saying what you really think about an important issue to someone influential or sitting on the front row of a comedy gig or taking the day off work to go camping or not saying sorry immediately when a stranger barges into you in the street or pressing the big red button or maintaining eye contact with someone nice for a long time or seeing a film alone or standing somewhere high in the wind or braving a dash through the house in just a towel when your flatmates have friends round or reading something that you have written out loud for the first time. Reading something you have written out loud to a stranger for the first time. Saying words that you have written out loud to a room full of strangers for the first time, lots of times.

Help.

I am currently in the process of making a show. It is really scary (not the show, just the thought/act of making it/performing it). I had an idea whilst sat on one of the many bridges in Newcastle at some point in September last year. I told this idea to people and now there is a thing that is happening that I have every control over and absolutely none over all at the same time. As the show is about anxiety and panic attacks, this is worrying for me. It is also the best thing ever.
Imagine jelly beans in my chest jumping up and down. Imagine on the way up, they scream a question:

WHY ARE YOU THE PERSON DOING THIS?

WHO IS THIS FOR?

DO YOU REALLY NEED TO USE THAT MUCH CANDY FLOSS?

WHAT IF PEOPLE DON’T LIKE IT?

WHAT IF YOU DO THAT THING WRONG AND YOUR FACE GOES ALL RED AND YOU JUST POP ON STAGE?

ARE YOU QUALIFIED ENOUGH?

DO THEY EVEN LOOK LIKE NEURAL PATHWAYS?

IS EVERYONE GOING TO THINK YOU’RE A PLONKER?

WHO EVEN IS TERRY?

YA GONNA JUST DO IT ANYWAY THOUGH RIGHT?

And imagine that on the way down, another jelly bean has heard that jelly bean’s question and is screaming back an answer (out of politeness):

I DON’T KNOW.

ANYONE WHO’S EVER FELT IT, ANYONE WHO LIKES THE RED AUNTS, ANYONE WHO IS THERE FOR  SOMEONE WITH ANXIETY. FOR YOU.

YES. IF ANYTHING, MORE.

THAT WOULD BE A SHAME :(

NOT BIOLOGICALLY POSSIBLE.

DEFINITELY NOT.

NOPE.

MAYBE.

THE TRIANGLE, SILLY.

WHO ARE YOU KIDDING, YOU HAVE TO! YES YES YES YES YES.

Hello. My name is Zoe, if you are here reading this then you probably already know that. I know this is an unconventional first blog post but I didn’t want to do the whole ‘I like cats & baking banana bread & reading the same books over and over again’ speech, even though all of those things are true.
I am a performance maker and poet in the very early stages of my career and I created this blog so I could have a space to process my thoughts about theatre and some life that happens in between. It just so happens that this space is public.
So... hello. 
I hope you are cosy, warm, fed and watered, and I hope you decide to come back to my blog occasionally. I hope occasionally you’d like to join in. I hope that you occasionally get some inquisitive jelly beans in your chest. I hope you have some comforting and honest jelly beans bouncing around in the mix too, to help with those questions, but if not, that’s okay.
I hope you don’t mind my over-use of the word occasionally, or my use of repetition, because that’s probably not going anywhere.
There’s bean ( tehe puns ) one particular jelly bean in my chest for a while, this one was a gobby little shit who had several questions:

ARE YOU EVER GOING TO START THAT BLOG YOU’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT FOR THE PAST 4 YEARS? ARE YOU STILL GOING TO FIND A GARISH FLORAL BACKGROUND? WILL YOU EVER BE BRAVE ENOUGH?

Hello.


NOTE: the jelly beans might actually be swimming pool water.