‘Long Player’: A Response

Jane Scott’s recent entry on the Guardian Theatre Blog addresses so-called ‘long play’ theatre, and suggests that the very concept of such pieces is riddled with problems which can undermine their purpose. However, her entry seems to cover a multitude of diverse issues which are tenuously linked under this heading, and I feel strongly that further exploration of some key points is needed to flesh out the debate.

One of the focus points of Scott’s blog is the Old Vic New Voices 24 Hour Plays, which she states is “a showcase, where selected young directors, producers, writers and actors get to strut their stuff on the famous stage”. Although I can understand to some extent why she may focus on the idea of it being a showcase, having taken part in the process myself I feel this does not truly reflect the purpose of the event; as Diana Damian points out in the comments section of the Guardian blog, the Old Vic New Voices version of the 24 Hour Plays places great emphasis on the process – it’s a chance for those involved to test their skills in a high-pressure environment, and to learn from working closely with their peers about creating a piece of work from scratch. Those in attendance as industry guests understand the concept and process, and are aware that the final pieces cannot fully represent the skills of those involved in the evening – but it can give glimpses of people’s ability or potential, and being selected in itself is a reflection that the participants stood out above other potential candidates for any number of reasons. Even if one were to look at the event as simply a showcase, the participants clearly must have some talent to ensure they don’t fail in delivering work with some positive points – although the audience will largely be made up of sympathetic friends and family, there is still a responsibility to entertain those who have bought a ticket.

Moving on, the article itself doesn’t seem to know what it’s really critiquing – is it performances created over a short time period, durational performances or late-night events? They’re clearly all very different things – for example, the Bush Theatre’s Sixty-Six Books has been a long time in the making, with the production having been developed over a long period and writers being commissioned to create something over a period of time considerably longer than 24 hours. The scope and ambition of such a project is something I feel should be commended for a Fringe theatre, and the volume of the King James Bible creates the issue of either abridging the books or finding a way to present all works over a longer period of time; offering the durational performance provided a solution to this issue without compromising the content, and offered an alternative form of complete engagement than asking people to commit to returning across a number of performances on different days.  The length of the performance itself may have been too much for many to last, but being aware of the length of performance at least also gave audiences the chance to steel themselves in preparation to be in it for the long haul; although Michael Billington may not have seen the full production (no doubt due to the pressures of filing deadlines), the accounts of those such as WhatsOnStage’s Honour Bayes who did endure offer a much more comprehensive account of the production – as opposed to making mention of their level of endurance as if some kind of badge of honour, which only serves to make such events feel like the ‘gimmick’ Scott accuses them of being in her blog.  Subsequently it seems that perception is everything – a complicity is requested by such pieces (as with the Nursery Festival’s improvathon, which Scott refers to later in her blog) to embrace the nature of the performance without undermining its strength and purpose as a dramatic work.

With regards to performance times, later slots may lead to different audience responses than the traditional 7:30pm slot, but audience reactions will vary for any number of reasons far beyond a time slot – what makes a midnight audience any lesser than a midweek matinee one, or one largely populated by school/college groups?  And what of festivals, with their varying time slots – should we look at them differently as they have a more committed audience, ignoring those who may be from the local community or non-regular theatre attendees who are dipping their toes into the waters? I feel the argument about performance times is far less pertinent in the context of Scott’s blog than the debate regarding performance length; there are already far too many caveats and variables involved in performance times and audience make-up which make it difficult to draw any conclusions from the examples Scott draws upon and undermines her argument against performances such as the Midnight Matinees at Shakespeare’s Globe and Tristan Bates Theatre.  Scott proclaims her suspicion is that there is not “the same level of performance and alertness from the audience” in events such as this, and that Midnight Matinees attract a younger audience, but this is all mere speculation and fails to make a strong case either way; assumptions and statements such as these are reductive and look foolhardy without any evidence to back them up.

Scott concludes her blog by suggesting that works such as those she refers to seem “a waste of everyone’s time” if done badly or pointlessly – but is that so?  Surely the experience of creating work which fails provides those involved with the opportunity to learn from the experience, with a view to improving things should there be a next time?  Moving away from the traditionally-accepted forms of theatre-making will always entail an element of risk as it challenges people’s perceptions and expectations, and challenging convention helps artists and the form itself to move forwards; dismissing such efforts as wasting people’s time either misses the point or suggests that the currently accepted format of theatre (six weeks rehearsals, 7:30pm start time, home before midnight) is without flaws – which is definitely not the case.  If people wish to continue to push things forward by working in such ways, then they have my support.

The ‘write’ person for the job?

With the announcement that Michael Boyd will be leaving his post of Artistic Director of the Royal Shakespeare Company (alongside Executive Director Vikki Heywood), thoughts have turned to who may take one of the most high-profile posts in British theatre.  Articles, blogs and social media have thrown a range of names into the hat, many of them the respected directors you would expect to be linked to such a post – but should companies and venues be thinking beyond the expected norm?

As with all big jobs, the long-list which arises from public discussion has been heavily scrutinised as much for who isn’t on it as who is; The Guardian have been running a poll of possible candidates, and the lack of women being suggested has once again raised concerns that the long-standing hegemonic perception of white males dominating such posts is far from a fallacy.  Although there are suggestions that the white male isn’t as prevalent as he once was – see the Donmar appointing Josie Rourke, the Bush appointing Madani Younis and Roxana Silbert taking over the Birmingham REP for examples – the so-called ‘big’ jobs seem to be a closed shop in some respects; perhaps due to what companies are looking for, or maybe due to people not applying as they don’t consider themselves to be in with a shot of getting the jobs.

However, another barrier may be the perception that such posts are almost always going to directors.  It seems ingrained that directors are the people to run buildings, but is unfairly suggesting that candidates from other disciplines need not apply?  What is to say a writer couldn’t do as good a job of running a company?  Put simply, directing a production and running a building are two very different things – although parallels can be drawn between the two roles, with Executive Directors, General Managers and Producers now taking on the vast majority of the day-to-day responsibilities of company management, does the role of an Artistic Director focus more now on an artistic/creative policy which could be delivered by candidates from a wider field?  Mark Ravenhill has been promoting his case for the RSC job in a slightly tongue-in-cheek manner on Twitter by aiming to hijack the Guardian poll – and although maybe the complexities of this particular job wouldn’t see him considered, I feel the lack of writers running established companies needs further scrutiny.

There are plenty of examples of writers successfully running large companies, and in turn providing a much clearer sense of artistic identity to a company through being loyal to a particular vision.  Perhaps the most obvious example comes in the shape of Alan Ayckbourn and the Stephen Joseph Theatre – the appointment of one of Britain’s most eminent contemporary playwrights as their permanent Artistic Director (moving away from their previous annual appointments following the death of Stephen Joseph) proved to be a masterstroke by the company, allowing them to premiere a number of Ayckbourn works which in turn drew audiences to Scarborough from much further afield than may previously have considered conceivable.  Furthermore, the presence of Ayckbourn has also led to the National Student Drama Festival calling Scarborough its home since 1990 – bringing emerging artists, students, professionals and academics to the town and leading to increased investment in the local economy.

Other examples perhaps lend more credence to the concept of an Artistic Director as an auteur – during David Farr’s career as an Artistic Director, his time at the Lyric Hammersmith in particular saw the work produced have a particularly strong visual aesthetic; the production of Kafka’s Metamorphosis (which he adapted and directed) is a clear example of this.  Chris Goode’s work with Camden People’s Theatre helped raise the profile of the venue and established a clear sense of the work they were interested in producing and programming, which in turn provided the support of other companies and venues which helped to support Goode’s own professional development.  Even further afield, the appointment of Britain’s Kwame Kwei-Armah at Baltimore’s Centrestage shows that big companies can recognise the potential of those from a writing background to help shape a company’s identity – Kwei-Armah has already announced plans for 50% of the company’s work to be new commissions.

It is perhaps a misnomer to refer to the above examples as simply ‘writers’, when they all have also established themselves at least to some extent as successful directors; however, their background in writing can begin to pave the way for those solely identified as writers to begin to apply for these jobs.  In order to open the application process more, perhaps the role of the Artistic Director needs to be redefined or even ‘reclaimed’ – focusing on its importance as a creative leader of an organisation and the person who drives its artistic agenda, rather than the person who directs most of its shows.  As mentioned previously, company structures now also offer support in the business elements which may put off some candidates – so candidates from more diverse professional backgrounds should be encouraged to apply to ensure an increased likelihood in appointing the ‘best person for the job’.

The example of the RSC is perhaps a slightly different case to those suggested above due to the focus on Shakespeare’s canon of work; in that respect at least, perhaps the company is best led by a director who can programme and present the work in a way which appeals to a contemporary audience.  That being said, with the company commissioning an increasing amount of new writing there is also a need for someone to have a good handle on how to package this work alongside the classical canon; the two shouldn’t be mutually exclusive, as there is an expectation of a certain quality of any work under the RSC banner.  Roxana Silbert has played a large role in leading the RSC’s programme of new writing since her appointment as Associate Director – largely influenced by her history of supporting new work at Paines Plough and the Traverse Theatre – but it is important that this work doesn’t sit outside the main programme of work, thus depriving it of the profile and support it should deserve; the RSC’s website states that the company was founded on a belief that “new writing was as important an element as Shakespeare”, but it stills fails to draw the same profile and audiences as the work from the classical canon.

It is reassuring to see a number of recent Artistic Director appointments coming from a pool of directors who truly understand and champion the cause of new writing – Steve Marmion at Soho Theatre and Orla O’Loughlin at the Traverse Theatre being some examples; perhaps in time perceptions of the role of an Artistic Director may change and writers themselves will feel confident to follow in their footsteps and throw their hats into the ring, drawing on their craft and understanding of the new writing scene to breathe fresh life into companies in need of a change.

Maintaining your ‘brand’

Originally written for ArtsProfessional

For a while now, I’ve been telling myself that I’ll update my website. Coming off the back of my hiatus from producing, I’ve felt it’s time for me to look again at what I’ve put online – and to think about what purpose it actually serves.

That’s proved to be quite a difficult question to answer. As a freelancer a website can be an invaluable tool to let people know a bit more about you and your work, and gives you the opportunity to provide information a standard CV doesn’t – for many freelancers, their website acts as an online portfolio. My own website has served this purpose to some extent thus far, but at the same time the nature of my work means I feel a slightly different approach needs to be taken – as information regarding my work is naturally more text-based than visual, making decisions about what information is included and to what volume can be tricky.

To inform my update/overhaul, I’ve looked at a number of websites belonging to other arts freelancers to see what I think works – in an industry where large numbers of people are self-employed, being proactive in seeking work and generating opportunities is part and parcel of simply keeping one’s head above water. I find it quite surprising that, with this in mind, it seems from friends and colleagues I’ve spoken to that few universities and drama schools seem to advise graduates of this; the majority of people I know have been sent out into the world and left to fend for themselves with regards to finding work, when even the smallest amount of advice – or even raising awareness of approaches to finding work – could potentially make a huge difference. From my own experiences at drama school, advice sessions regarding how to survive as a freelancer were only offered as off-timetable classes, instead of even the smallest of concessions being made to find time within normal classes to offer such advice to all students. Although not everyone will go into self-employed work upon graduating, there is an increased likelihood within the arts that their careers will go in that direction at some point in the future – so advice given at this stage could eventually prove incredibly useful, instead of leaving people unsure of how to pursue a freelance career.

In terms of the websites I’ve looked at, it’s been quite interesting to see the different approaches people have taken, and how similar content can be more or less effective depending on the nature of their work. For actors – particularly those without representation – a personal website offers a great way to show the world what they have done, and to integrate different media as content; whilst large numbers are on Spotlight, the nature of their database means potential employers or collaborators not registered with them cannot always see their profiles – and furthermore, the standard layout of Spotlight profiles is quite bland and functional. A website can contain the same information as a Spotlight profile (and can also integrate the profile through fairly simple HTML script), but can take on a more personal look which may fit with an actor’s casting or is simply easier on the eye – and can also include showreels, production photos/headshots, news about upcoming productions and reviews. Whilst the early stages of your career can often involve trying to give your details to anyone in the industry you meet, for an actor giving a business card with a website address is much easier than having to carry a pile of headshots and CVs around with you!

For those of us less inclined to take the spotlight, a slightly different approach may be needed. I’ve seen a number of websites for artists which include some form of online CV, detailing previous credits, key skills and training/education information – and often references, which can be hugely valuable in an industry where advocacy plays a large part in getting ahead. Unlike actors, the background of particular projects and the individual’s role in them plays a much bigger part – as certain backstage and creative roles can be interpreted in different ways, a clearer idea of what they entail can be useful for potential employers and collaborators. Additionally, this can also give a clearer sense of an individual’s main skills and interests – ensuring any approaches regarding collaboration can be made with the knowledge that a project may be of interest to them, and that they are a suitable and interesting person to work with. As there may be quite a lot of information on a website, good navigation links are hugely important – particularly with regards to contact information; if someone can’t find how to contact you, then this could be the difference between employment and staying on the shelf.

In terms of the actual practicalities of building a website, then a good-looking, easy-to-use site should be a priority – if it is going to represent you as a ‘brand’ online, then it’s best to do it properly instead of cutting corners. There are a number of companies who can build you a website for a small fee, and who will host it in a way which makes it easy for you to update; they will often have choices regarding the site’s appearance, allowing you to go for a look which you think best meets your needs. Of course, this will also limit you in terms of the ‘uniqueness’ of your site – you will undoubtedly have to compromise between what you would like and what is actually available. Alternatively, if you feel so inclined and have the time you can teach yourself web design – an approach that I have taken. Although this won’t be for everyone, my personal experience is that web design is actually much easier than it appears once you get into it – I’ve used a number of tutorial websites to guide me along the way, and once I developed a grasp of the coding language I’ve looked at features I like on other websites and have tried to understand how they work. Through developing this understanding and learning how to combine it with designs created in Adobe Photoshop, I’ve been able to create a look I feel is personal to me and is slightly more interesting to look at. The time invested in developing these skills has been worth it for me – but whatever approach you may choose to take, remember that you want your site to represent you in a forum where people all across the globe can find out about you.

So, over the coming weeks my website will be going through some changes – do feel free to let me know what you think!

In case you were wondering…

…There haven’t been any posts for a while as I went on holiday for a couple of weeks, and since returning I’ve been catching up on other things.

The good news, though, is that I’m back on the blogging train and should have something new for you in the next 48 hours. Then I’ll get back to trying to my regular blogging.

D

What is truly ‘interactive’ theatre?

It seems a lot of theatre lately is being labelled as ‘interactive’.  As a catch-all phrase, it was particularly prevalent during this year’s Edinburgh Fringe – a diverse range of shows carried the label in reviews, simplifying their essence to a buzzword which suggested a familiar theme running through them.

But to suggest true similarities within the work is misleading.  I’ve seen articles and reviews discussing interactive work whilst covering a range of shows which are not truly interactive – at least, not in the sense I perceive.  Ontroerend Goed have created a canon of work which is regularly categorised as ‘interactive’ – but as Matt Trueman succinctly points out, the example this year of Audience does not engage its audience in any form of true dialogue, and thus cannot be called such.  Delve further into their back catalogue and shows such as Once And For All We’re Going To Tell You Who We Are So Shut Up And Listen and Under the Influence fall into the same predicament – their intention seems much more to provoke a reaction than to genuinely interact with its audience, and albeit in a less direct way than Audience to challenge the boundaries of the performer/audience relationship.  Internal and The Smile Off Your Face are definitely much more interactive pieces – but through using the model of one-on-one performance, a form which lends itself to the label naturally.

As one-on-one performance grows as a form, perhaps it can be attributed to the apparent trend in so-called interactive work.  The artifice draws participants in and creates an apparent safety for them to engage and trust performers without feeling like they themselves are being observed – far from being unwittingly and unpreparedly thrust into a spotlight, they are in an environment largely stripped of theatrical audience conventions which helps dispel the notion that they are in a performance at all.  The effect can be particularly powerful on audience members should they be drawn into engaging and revealing to a great extent; after attending Internal, Matt Trueman wrote a review and a subsequent retrospective showing the level to which he engaged and analysed both the piece and his own part in it.  An even greater example of interactive performance can be seen in the work of Marina Abramović – both the emotional engagement witnessed in The Artist is Present and the physical engagement in Rhythm 0 gave audiences the chance to contribute to the performance, and tested how far they would be drawn into engaging with the artist and the work.  And, as a much less intense experience, You Once Said Yes received fantastic reviews at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe for an experience which encouraged people to go with the flow, and to simply say ‘yes’ in various situations in order to create what felt like a personalised experience.

Beyond one-on-one performances, what serves as a successful model of truly interactive theatre?  Work such as Badac’s The Factory cannot truly be considered interactive as it expected audiences to play the part expected of them; free will was not encouraged or expected, and resistance to the constructed narrative led to some undesirable scenes afterwards.  The Factory falls much more under the category of immersive theatre, rather than interactive – something which transports you to a particular setting, but still desires the audience to be passive in order to let the narrative breathe.  Work such as Hotel Medea is a strong example of a piece which is not truly interactive, not wholly immersive, but is maybe best defined as participatory – the audience are asked to join in with the performance, and are led by performers (some of whom are within the audience) in a series of activities created to ensure their engagement.

But how does something like Hotel Medea differ from the call-and-response nature of pantomime, for example?  Although the audience are encouraged to join in with what is taking place, their engagement is not essential to the narrative of the piece; should no-one sing along to the songs the show will go on as it always intended to.  Truly interactive theatre must rely on some form of improvisation, dealing with the unpredictable responses of those engaged and at least allowing for some addressing of them before moving on; although the interactions do not need to drive the narrative, they at least need to be appreciated and not treated as inconsequential.  To incorrectly label a show as interactive both devalues truly interactive theatre, and through misrepresentation does not do justice to work which falls under another category; if audiences have preconceived notions of what to expect from a performance based on what they have read before attending, then this can compromise their responses and can potentially derail a performance which requires their complicity.

Truly interactive work for a group audience seems to sit much more comfortably on the line which bridges theatre and live art; work such as non zero one’s The Time Out, Action Hero’s Watch Me Fall and Uninvited Guests’ Love Letters Straight From Your Heart allow audience interaction to be at the heart of the work, and to encourage and embrace their involvement so that traditional performer/audience relationships are blurred.  As work by these companies has become progressively more embraced into the theatrical mainstream in the past few years – particularly helped by the championing of such work by the likes of the BAC and Lyn Gardner – it has helped bring a wave of innovation into theatre-making which can arguably be witnessed through the increase in work which has been labelled ‘interactive’.  What is required in order for the form to grow and become much more clearly defined is further innovation – either to make the perception of what such work is clearer, or for artists to push the form further to make work even more interactive.  For now, the least we can hope for is that artists, critics and audiences develop a better understanding of what interactive work really is to help a still-fledgling form really spread its wings.

Pulling Together

Originally written for ArtsProfessional

One of the great things about the arts is that there seems to be a genuine sense of people really supporting each other in their work; far from it being a competitive environment, plenty of people genuinely want their peers to succeed.  Constantly working under limitations means the support offered by others is invaluable.

I was recently reading an interview on The Public Reviews with Imogen Kinchin, Producer at Lyric Hammersmith, regarding their upcoming collaboration with Spymonkey and Peepolykus for Latitude Festival.  With each partner bringing a multitude of skills and experiences into the process both creatively and logistically, there is considerably less pressure on those involved; as with all co-productions, many hands make light work.  Allowing companies to divide responsibilities between them which make the best use of their skills and experiences also helps create an environment which supports future collaborations, either with those particular partners or others – the process can help those involved identify particular strengths they have, which they can subsequently offer as a benefit to a co-producer or collaborator.  Filter – who the Lyric collaborated with at the Latitude Festival in 2010 – have recently finished a run of Silence at the Hampstead Theatre, which was co-produced with the Royal Shakespeare Company; this relationship allowed Filter to create a much larger piece of work through the support offered by the RSC, which focused on logistics more than dramaturgical support.  Building such relationships and continuing to collaborate in this way undoubtedly allows companies such as Filter to work far beyond what would normally be considered conceivable for a company of their means, and creates a structure which ideally becomes a self-sustainable model over time – greatly reducing the risk involved in making such a step up as an independent entity.

But such support isn’t just restricted to the larger companies and venues; it can exist at all levels.  I have plenty of peers who I can easily meet for a coffee with to discuss our work and to give each other advice and support.  Similarly, I also have people further ahead of me professionally who are willing to give me advice in my work and projects I’m undertaking – and learning from the experiences of others can be absolutely invaluable at any stage of your career.  There are a number of schemes which exist that offer mentoring to professionals at various stages of their careers, including the National Theatre’s Step Change programme, the Clore Leadership Programme and Stage One’s New Producer Scheme – and it is heartening to know that a desire to support others in a formalised way exists, providing a consistency to the process and helping to monitor professional development.  Even informal networking brings huge benefits; online and real-world networks continue to grow, helping to bring people together, share experiences and opinions and create a broader ecology of voices to particular debates.  Providing people can translate discussion into action, the possibilities of what could be achieved by even the smallest group of people in a room are huge.

We have undoubtedly all benefitted at some stage in our careers from being able to discuss our work with, and being given advice by, people we respect and look up to; I’d strongly recommend we all make ourselves open to nurturing further relationships.  Get in touch with someone you’d like to have a chat with – you might be surprised at how open people can be.

Recharging the Batteries

Originally written for ArtsProfessional

Working in a freelance capacity brings about its own set of challenges much different to those faced when in full-time/permanent employment. As someone who is frequently engaged in more than one project at any one time, I’m familiar with such challenges – but when trying to strike the balance between the work undertaken and the more basic motive of paying one’s rent, it’s often a challenge to stay motivated and focused.

Recently I’ve found myself feeling creative burn-out; being constantly busy over the past few years took its toll and left me feeling in dire need of a rest. Although going straight from one project to the next is a good position to be in as a freelancer, it can also deprive you of the opportunity to really evaluate what you’ve done on the last project, for the benefit of future work; instead you often find yourself getting into the habit of approaching things in a certain way without analysing whether or not it’s the best way to do so. As with anything in life, once you develop a routine it feels much easier to stick to it rather than trying something different – even if it might lead to you discovering a more successful approach.

I’m someone who always feels they’re not reaching their full potential, being overly self-critical when working and finding myself increasingly frustrated when things don’t go perfectly. Recently I reached a watershed, where I realised that going through this cycle of emotions was beginning to affect my enjoyment of the work I have been engaging with – so I made the decision to have a break, to evaluate my working practices and to approach my next project with fresh eyes and a renewed sense of optimism and excitement. For the past few weeks I’ve been really thinking about what it is that I enjoy about working in the arts, and the areas in which I perceive myself to be strongest and weakest – allowing me to focus on developing skills which I believe need sharpening, and to place greater emphasis on those where I feel I excel.

As with many freelancers, there is always the challenge of choosing the right project – something which perhaps comes easier with time. From my initial days freelancing where I felt obligated to say yes to every project and opportunity which came my way, I now feel much more comfortable in choosing my work more carefully; having established myself in my chosen field, I now find myself being approached much more frequently to work on projects, which in turn gives me a greater opportunity to pick and choose those which appeal to me the most. It’s always difficult to say no to someone when they come to you with a project, and it’s flattering to be asked – but there’s a responsibility to them and yourself to be honest and admit if you wouldn’t be completely passionate about and engaged with the work. There’s no benefit to anyone if you’re only going to work at 60% of your optimum level, and it can be damaging to both your career and the reputation of a company or artist if their work isn’t supported in the best possible way; instead, advocating for someone else you feel may be a good fit for the project is much more beneficial – also allowing you to help a contemporary further develop their career.

Bills still need to be paid, but it has been liberating to undertake work which I feel much less emotionally invested in; having undertaken much work for free as I have been genuinely excited by it, I feel there is no huge issue in going to the other end of the spectrum – provided my approach to the work is professional and I am meeting the expectations required of me. Being able to take paid work which doesn’t demand as much intellectual and emotional engagement also means I am able to think more creatively in my spare time – which feeds into the intention to approach my next project feeling revitalised.

Having benefitted from having such a break, I’m now at the point of starting to engage once more with projects and ideas – and feel much better for it. To all freelancers out there – don’t be afraid to take a break if you need it, and trust your instincts if you’re worried of burning out!