Igloos Don't Melt @ Camden People's Theatre

Igloos Don’t Melt is a new piece of experimental performance art which explores the experience of nostalgia, memory, and sense of place through the metaphor of literal blocks of ice. There is a complete lack of performativeness to the production; a folding banquet table and a small freezer are all that fill the space, yet it is captivating to watch blocks of ice be removed from the freezer, moved, stacked, and then dismantled through various means and methods. The audience are part of the performance; delivered through direct address, with moments of interaction it is almost like an oddly reflective and convivial stand up show. There is no narrative per se, I would classify the production as post-dramatic — which is really what makes it work. Ideas fill the space, yet we’re given the space to apply meaning to them as the audience, with minimal intervention. There are moments that don’t work as well as others, in particular a longer monologue toward the end about nostalgia could benefit from further integration with the physical elements of the performance. Yet many moments are thought provoking and really sit with you. 

This was a piece steeped in theatrical innovation. The ideas within the show and their manifestation through the performance are truly innovative and push the edges of theatre and semiotics. In particular, the  many ways to interact with ice — which literally melts and is smashed up, changing form and shape, causing us to see “reality” change before our eyes — is quite magical, and incredibly powerful. 

The Detour of Identity - Roni Horn @ The Louisiana Museum of Art

Words and images are my currency. Words accompanying images, snippets of ideas evoking response. So it is unsurprising that I’m drawn to artists like Roni Horn, for whom words make up such a significant part of the visual representation. Further, the interrogation of image and gender, how we present ourselves to be perceived, how we do perceiving.

The collection of Roni Horn’s work in The Louisiana exhibition is striking, benefitting from the winding hallways and rooms of the space itself. As the exhibition unfolds, images and motifs repeat, return, morph. . and this reflects our own experience of identity. We think we have changed, but then learn we have not.

In particular I enjoyed the photographs of water accompanied by text and observation in the “Still Water” series; mundane words, yet wildly compelling in their meaninglessness and inquiry into how our minds work, what we remember.

There is a dark whimsy to Horn’s work which really resonated for me. Brilliant stuff.

Get Off @ Battersea Arts Centre

This show isn’t intended to be easy viewing; from the very start, we see the performer, Katy, in a loop of video, nude in her bedroom, panning around the space. When the performance begins, she is laying on the floor of the white stage, in front of the screen, with a microphone. A clever play between the recorded Katy and the live in front of us Katy sets a tone for a funny performance that won’t take itself too seriously.

It continues with some truly delightful and funny moments, and some really challenging moments, and quite a lot of failure in performance. It was interspersed, however, with some fairly graphic moments projected up on the big screen, which I struggled to connect with the rest of what was happening in the story. Furthermore, it was never made clear why the performer was naked, or what purpose this served. Which is fine, but for me in the particular circumstance of performance (particularly female solo performance) this double objectification needs to have a purpose.

All in all, while there were some fantastic moments, and some that really made me think, the production as a whole (in this new version) felt undercooked — a lot of great ideas, but just missing that link that would pull them all together, giant poop video and all.

A Spectacle of Herself @ Battersea Arts Centre

Sometimes you get the evening of angry feminist performance art you need. Laura Murphy’s solo show blends spectacular design with a brilliant and challenging script, pressing into moments of tension or discomfort to create recognition of the anger boiling in our bellies here in the 21st century. The piece is at times circus performance, at times expressionist art, at times standup comedy, and also a lecture, a movement driven academic argument.

In particular the overlay of relationships to space exploration with relationships to gender and sexual expression which in parallel to one another as the overarching thematic movement of the piece is an emphatic expression of our current world. The truths Murphy speaks through voice and movement choices are incredibly resonant.

Watch for this to be re-mounted, and GO.

Marina Abramović @ The Royal Academy of Arts

The famed provocateur, not present but as a ghost in the Royal Academy exhibition from Marina Abramović. Organised thematically rather than chronologically, the exhibition felt less like a retrospective than a museum - guiding the viewer through themes and fixation in the artist’s work. Marina, of course, was not present save for in photograph or video, and although there were recreations of some of her most famous performance pieces, they were solely those with nude bodies (fine). What wasn’t fine was that at least while I was there, the only bodies were black and brown — the white famous artist absent, with black and brown (mostly women) in the vulnerable place of performance on her behalf.

That isn’t to say there weren’t interesting elements to engage with; what i found most fascinating were the documentations of performance through text or video, rather than attempts to recreate. And furthermore, the pieces that were most about her own experience of time, pain, stress, versus those that were about creating these moments for the audience. There is an element of cruelty to Abramović’s work, but this is most effective in my opinion when it is an intellectual cruelty or even boredom versus physical discomfort.

All in all, I’m glad I went but also have many questions on why and how this work was facilitated in this space. The first female artist to have a solo retrospective in the Royal Academy, yet perpetuating the exploitation of bodies that were not her own….so simply following in a long line.

Split Britches: The True Story - Split Britches [Recorded 1984]

I watched this in recording via the Split Britches archive - available here.

It is so exciting to get to reach back in theatre history archives and see work from moments in time which create the trajectory on which my own work rests. Womens stories on stage, non-drama driven story, the mundane and every day presented on stage — these are all present. The Staging is reflective of a slide show, quick blackouts, choreographed minute movements between, reminding us of the artifice of presentation. Scenes repeat and circle back, seemingly static, yet things change.

I also loved the recording itself; it zooms in on small moments that may or may not be related to the speaking, allows the speaker to walk off screen while focusing on another character’s reactions. In the same way that a viewer’s eye in the theatre may linger elsewhere, this recording encourages us to acknowledge that, and provides space for this mental wandering. It is a reminder that the words are only a part of what matters — but rather that each minute detail makes up the whole.

A really wonderful piece to view for those whose work lingers in feminist ways of storytelling, to remind us of where we have come from.

End Meeting For All - Forced Entertainment

I watched this in recording. You can watch Part 1 here. You can watch Part 2 here. Both are available until June, and Part 3 airs May 12.

Disjointed. Unfocused. Overwhelming.

Forced Entertainment’s End Meeting For All series are improvised public group calls between company members isolated in their homes. Each begins abruptly, and ends abruptly, yet despite the improvisational nature, a structure appears. People ignore others in the call. People get distracted and wander away. People remain deeply focused on a single object or question to the point of irritation. Technology fails (or does it?).

This reflection of our time, when interaction with our closest friends, colleagues, and family members is largely through the blue-white glare of a computer monitor, is stunning. Forced create a piece of performance that is at once anti-performance, and high-performance. We are all living in this recognizable yet utterly foreign version of our world. It is funny, it is sad, it is at times bleak.

This is theatre for isolated times.

Inside by Dimitris Papaioannou (2011 - via Vimeo)

I watched Dimitris Papaioannou’s 2011 durational work Inside via Vimeo. You can watch it here.

One hour in. The patterns of movement are beautiful, subtle. When bodies overlap through spaces, they appear to be in conversation with one another - one person sits on the bed, the one lying in it adjusts, pulling up the blanket. The performers are in their own spaces, unaware of one another and yet in relationship.

The view out the window changes, and the feeling of the space changes with it, although nothing actually changes. You look away, do something else for a moment, and are surprised when you come back and the room is full, or empty.

Although the actual pace of the movements doesn’t change, the feeling of their pace seems to quicken when there are more people in view, and slow when there are fewer. It tricks the mind.

When we reach moments where the performers really do connect physically, the emotional narrative floods forward.

I’m at two hours, and continuing to watch…but want you to start too.

Class - Scottee & Friends @ Progress Festival

There is something really special about this show. Living in a grey area between standup comedy, theatre, and performance art, Scottee’s Class lays bare the truths of growing up working class, and making a living as an artist. Armed with a microphone and red Adidas tracksuit, on white carpet (shoes OFF), Scottee confronts his largely middle class audience with the assumptions they have about the working class. At first playful and comedic, he brings the audience in and flatters them with comedy before turning the knife sharply, and reminding the audience that these stories are true. That they are his memories.

At the start, he asks the audience to identify as working class, or as middle class. Like the polite Canadians we are, most of the audience were shy to hold up their hands to identify as middle class, which I’m sure is not unique. For those of us who grew up working class, he reminds us this show is for them, but asks us to check in with one another afterward. I did not expect to be affected by this in the way I was. That permission to identify, the clear and honest stories of his youth, which in many real ways mirrored my own, punched me in the gut. When he warned us to check in with one another after the show, I didn’t expect to need it. I did. I had to leave the theatre quickly following the show due to other obligations, but found myself crying and grasping for breath on the phone when trying to give my husband a quick couple sentences about what I had just seen.

Scottee’s work is meaningful and powerful, and so important for people to see.

thoughts. Art school privilege

A recently released study has indicated that almost 70% of students entering Toronto's public art-focused high schools identify as white, and predominantly come from wealthier households, which as you can imagine, has called into question not only the admissions process, but the courses themselves. I don't think that it takes a lot of inquiry to identify the root causes of this problem: first, accessibility to the key genres of art that are assessed in the admissions process, and second, accessibility (and reality) of the ability to create and sustain a career in the arts if you do not come from a position of privilege. 

Lets deal with the first point; what is taught. Art schools tend to admit students who have a pre-identified strength in an area, whether it be music, dance, visual art, and the criteria for these strengths lends itself to favour those who have had some kind of training. How, for example, could someone with no formal training in dance walk comfortably into an audition and succeed? It would be only those students who hold a particularly adept natural skill, and a significant amount of courage or self confidence. Thus as you can imagine, the first obstacle of having the courage is then met by the second obstacle of appropriate preparation, which then, if those hurdles are cleared, there is, of course, standing out in a room full of skilled and at least partially trained performers. Is it any wonder that the admitted students skew toward higher income households, where they are more likely to have access to training? When siting across that table as an audition panel, how much are we looking for a partially moulded pre-trained package, versus someone whose talent is raw and untouched, but will need a lot of work?  It is so easy to default to those who already have some of the skills as a baseline, rather than give the public school opportunity to the kid who wouldn't otherwise afford to get music or dance or art lessons? 

Even if we look past those hurdles, and wipe that clean, interest in those more traditional fields is an issue; if someone is a street artist, is their work going to be accepted or valued the same? What about someone who can't play piano or violin, but can work a TR8 like no one's business, and can compose music like you've never heard before? Or what about someone whose work is multidisciplinary? This is often something that even as adults is just beginning to be valued and encouraged, so is it being encouraged amongst middle schoolers applying to these stringent application criteria? 

This in part leads us to the second point: feasibility. I grew up in a family where a career in the arts was something of a pipe dream, and where my own growth, education, and access was slowed by the fact that I couldn't simply afford to do free apprenticeships, volunteer my time, or go on a tour for months for a couple thousand dollars. When you grow up in a space where there are few working artists around you, and where there is no safety net enabling you to "focus only on your art" and not have a backup, your ability to develop as an artist, to take advantage of all the "emerging artist" platforms that might require you not to work another job or to fly to another city (on your own dime) are just not open to you. So if you're 13 years old, and looking at your future....does this seem reasonable? And as a parent of a 13 year old, no matter how much talent or how big the dreams of your child are, won't you want them to have something more reliable and steady that can ensure they are fed and clothed and safe as they enter adulthood? How likely are you to encourage this career path, starting at a specialized high school?  

We need to do more for kids. We need to provide better public school art education from very early on. I can directly associate my own perserverence as an artist (and success, if you can call it that) to a few early connections I made. I had an amazing music teacher in elementary school, and then had an amazing opportunity to create a brand new musical whilst still in primary school with professional artists who had just come from Ukraine. As I got older, I was lucky enough to get dance training, but even that was at a huge cost to my parents who were working non stop to give us those opportunities. I recognize the good fortune and privilege I have had in that regard, and also acknowledge that it was a lot less than those around me. 

We cannot allow young artists with something to say to be silenced simply due to access, and pretend to call our system "public" education. The admissions process as well as the content of courses requires serious examination to ensure the continued validity of these programs. Their necessity doesn't need proving. 

review. My Arm by Tim Crouch @ Harbourfront Centre World Stage Redux

"No one ever asked me to take my arm down."

My Arm is the first play Crouch wrote, and it is filled with a sense of playfulness that is difficult to articulate. Told by one performer (Crouch) with the aid of every day objects collected from the audience, and the use of a doll, and a video camera, My Arm follows the story of a young boy whose determination sets the course of his life. Always speaking in the first person, it is the source of some enjoyable humour when the character's described actions or appearance are so clearly at odds with the performer we see in front of us. 

Crouch's choice to not "act" but rather "tell" the story renders the piece far more theatrical than it would be were the same story realized through traditional theatrical "embodiment". Yet Crouch tells the story with more intense focus and "liveness" (that much debated concept in Toronto theatres these days) than most other actors I can think of in recent memory. 

The play itself raises a multitude of questions about ethics in art. Of course, demanding we ask ourselves what is art versus artifice (or scam?), but also when the characters in the story begin marking art, it demands questions of responsibility and ethics in relationship to a subject. When representing someone in your work without their knowledge, when drawing them or representing their "story" in your work, when offering the subject funds for their representation when it is clear no other choice is feasible, and even further, the ethics of responsibility to a child or loved one. This is all juxtaposed with the careful and specific manner in which Crouch requests objects from the audience to use in the performance, both in his spoken text, and in the program note. 

Crouch is a masterful storyteller, managing immense pauses, improvised object theatre, all while keeping the audience utterly captivated while he plays with these ideas and our imaginations. 

I have many more thoughts on this piece, and will soon share them.  

review. How To Build a House Museum - Theaster Gates @ AGO- Art Gallery of Ontario

Unlike a lot of solo shows one expects to find at a gallery of the reputation of the AGO, the work of Theaster Gates is considerably more ephemeral, more disruptive, more inherently political. In asking his question, "how do we determine whose house to commemorate" and conflating this with the House Music movement, Gates demands that the viewer acknowledge our own limited purview of who "deserves" to be recognized. 

Upon entering the main space, the music (which is at a quite loud volume) pierces the air, and draws you toward the Reel House, a tribute to Chicago musician and pioneer Frankie Knuckles. The joyful and energetic music creates a safe space, one where it is okay to relax and engage personally with the artwork, and contrary to many much more sterile and silent gallery experiences.

Surrounding the Reel House are several canvases with geometric shapes in primary colours. At first glance they appear to reference modernist painting, however upon further view into other rooms, you learn that these are visual representations of scientific charts which show statistics of black households in the period surrounding emancipation. Progress is the key underlying message, and this meters our response to Gates' initial question.

The final space, Progress Palace, is the culmination of these ideals. It is a separated room to enter, where a new group of sounds fill the darkened, purple-lit space. The large physical installation  Houseberg creates fascinating reflection patterns on the wall as it turns slowly. The projected images cycle in tandem with the music which emanates from a skeleton of a DJ booth, playing the video House Heads Liberation Training, with dancers and singers in un-practiced sound and movement. This deconstruction of a nightclub space is wonderful to experience solo -- the absence of other people in the space highlights the potential that occurs when these forms intersect. The theatrical nature of the potential within this constructed (or deconstructed?) space is captivating. 

Gates exhibition as a whole is absolutely work seeing -- runs until October 30th at the AGO.  

review. YOUARENOWHERE @ 3LD Studio (New York)

Andrew Schneider's YOUARENOWHERE is not your run of the mill theatrical experience. It is a merger of text and movement, technology and humanity, and conversation with existential interrogation. The play immediately immerses the audience in its world, demanding that we believe the truth of this place and time as we think we know it, and simultaneously challenges that notion of knowing.  We, the audience, are Heiddegerian beings flung forward from the very moment Schneider enters the performance space, and for days afterward. What are we experiencing? What is missing? Why aren't we more concerned about these gaps? 

Even the title evokes this questioning. You-Are-Nowhere? or You-Are-Now-Here? Both are relevant and appropriate and yet neither is quite right. This piece exists in the space between those two interpretations of its title, it seems. Here is a brief preview. Get tickets. This runs in NYC until April 10 after which it transfers to the Lift festival in London, which I have heard is sold out.