It’s okay, this has been done before.
…this however, is our first time.

Hotel Medea (2011) CHAPTER II – DRYLANDS –. Online, http://vimeo.com/18224931 (accessed 24 February 2013).

Hotel Medea “allow for a participatory, immersive and interactive perspective of the theatrical event” ((Hotel Medea (2011) Hotel Medea Online: http://vimeo.com/hotelmedea (accessed 24 February 2013). )) within their work, and it is this immersive and interactive experience which we are trying to create, for both audience members, despite the fact the two audience members will never experience both performances. An example of Hotel Medea’s immersive theatre is their performance, Drylands.

In this durational evening performance, the audience became part of, and were offered an intimate part within the performance and it is this immersive, intimate and safe atmosphere which we are trying to inhabit in the bedroom. The experience will still be immersive for the cupboard…but not necessary safe.

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Lauren Watson. Date taken: 22 March 2013.

As well as immersing the audience in the piece with spoken narratives and bed-time rituals, the room itself has been decorated and transformed by children’s drawings and paintings. The child’s room is safe and secure, with all the usual sexual context of the bedroom removed. We needed this essence of innocent and safety to be in the bedroom, as the cupboard which is built into the main wall holds none of these values. It subverts them, showing the true and heightened nature of what we associate with the bedroom. There is no safety or comfort to be found in the cupboard. You will find no bedtime story or hot chocolate to send you off to sleep to “the place in which we are allowed to dream” ((Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning of Home, London: Frances Lincoln Ltd., p. 76.)).  What you will find is a narrative made to confuse, question and attempt to control you. It will put you in a position you would rather not be in, try and escape from, a place in which you wouldn’t want to stay.

“The remnants of site-specific performance can be extensive. It generates documents relating both the creation of performance and to the engagement with site before, during and after the event” ((Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 191.)).

To let these two simultaneous events go undocumented would be a loss on our part as performers. The documentation “made during…often assert themselves to be the true record of what really happened, or else we ascribe that capacity to them” ((Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 191-192.)), to be able to look back on what it felt like, and how we made people feel would  ensure that we would not lose the performance entirely after the performance had finished. How many performances have you been to which take place in a house? And how many had you wished you’d been to? With documentation you would be given the chance to glimpse into the world we had created in our ‘safe house’.

“Site-specific performance as an unlikely and fleeting moment in history of a place, known only through the  traveller’s [or audiences’] tales of those present” ((Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 194.)).

Could we, as performer, document the performance and reactions during the periods in the performance where there were no audience members or visitors in our room? To have a note-pad and pen hidden in our space, at hand to record emotions, feelings, reflections and reactions would be invaluable.

Writing by tainted light, struggling to hold the pen in our greasy hands, struggling to move and see due to restraints. This would make the documentation as much part of the performance as we are. A living, breathing, active part of the performance. Just a part which no audience members will witness.

Safe House.

 

  • A place where people may go to avoid prosecution of their activities by authorities.
  • A place where undercover operatives may conduct clandestine observations or meet other operatives surreptitiously.
  • A location where a trusted adult or family or charity organization provides a safe haven for victims of domestic abuse.
  • A home of a trusted person, family or organization where victims of war and/or persecution may take refuge, receive protection and/or live in secret.
  • Right of asylum. ((N/A (2013) Safe house, Online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Safe_house (accessed 23 March 2013).))

Liminal, Compact and Ignored Spaces

From placing my Mosaic image of my body back into the space it was taken, wasn’t clear enough due to the dark clothing and the awkward positioning of the cupboard. So I decided to explore the house more and change my costume to beige, flesh coloured clothing which also blended into the walls of the house due to the cream walls. Exploring more of the house and the tight spaces it offers was interesting to know how and various ways to adjust my body into the compact spaces.

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Photo Taken By Jozey Wade. Edited By Faye Rose McDool

“As you gain a greater awareness of your body, it preferences, and begin noticing how even tiny physical changes can affect your inner state. You start to really inhabit your body and see how the subtest in your body affects your inner landscapes” ((Oida, Yoshi & Marshall, Lorna 1997, The Invisible Actor, Cox & Wyman, Reading, Berkshire p35))
With the new images I have taken, I have edited them, layering the images to make my body look fixed in that environment and into the photo. This will also get the sense of my body inhabiting the space, just like Eve Dent and Willie Dorner creations. This also will draw the audience attention to the ignored spaces in the house and show their possibilities. “Responding to the site and creating a new set of questions” ((Weileder, Wolfgang 2005, House Projects, Birmingham p25))

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Emma Hack ((Emma Hack, Utopia: Oriental Bouquet Cradled Ringneck, Accessed 26/03/2013 http://www.emmahackartist.com.au/emma_art/emma_utopia.html#.UVGPXByeNTk))

After I edited my photos, I saw a  resemblance to Emma Hacks work. She is an body artist who paints bodies the same pattern as the background to make them blend into that environment.

My idea of become part of the House is also going to be reflected as to where I am going to place my images. They are going to be scattered around the house in family photo frames with each image appropriate room, as to where the photo was taken, placed on window ledges and shelf’s  This gives the sense of the images of becoming part of the family home as well as the images them self of me becoming the building.

 

 

Becoming Invisible: CCTV but in a new light

We enjoyed the idea of revealing a message, however, we thought we could be more creative with this take more advantage of using the CCTV during different times during the day. The title of the Site Specific piece is ‘Safe House’ so we began to question two people where they are most comfortable in their house/flat student accommodation.

We questioned this because, like in the Safe House, we are not permanent residents but we are simply there temporarily and can get attached to one room. Like the two on the video getting attached with their bedrooms, we are most comfortable in the CCTV room as that is where we spend most of our time during rehearsals.

From getting this information, we wanted to challenge the meaning of Safe House and making the audience feel uncomfortable when watching our pre-recorded footage. The definition of Safe House is “a dwelling or building whose conventional appearance makes it a safe or inconspicuous place for hiding, taking refuge, or carrying on clandestine activities.” ((Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineer IEEE: Dictionary.com, “safe house,” in Collins English Dictionary – Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition. Source location: HarperCollins Publishers.http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/safe house. Available:http://dictionary.reference.com. Accessed: March 26, 2013)) . We wanted to take the aspect of hiding in the house so we have played around with using darkness with the CCTV. To do this, we film inside the house at night time. Doing this was interesting because we all of a sudden felt a sense of fear of going through the house just because of the darkness and due to being unfamiliar with the other rooms. Over the top of the recordings, we have found quotes for various books to describe the thoughts and feeling of being invisible in the darkness.

We looked at “The Invisible Man” By Ralph Ellison which expresses the thoughts and feelings of an African man in society and how he feels invisible compared to the rest of his society in the twentieth century.  “I am a man of substance of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids” ((Ellison, Ralph, 1947 The Invisible Man,  Penguin Books, New York p7)) . Using this would link wonderfully without CCTV recordings as you can see a silhouette of a body during the footage but only when the body is moving or light shone on them you notive there is a human there. We looked at other books to find this sense of hiding and invisibility:

  • The Invisible actor By Yoshi Oida & Lorna Marshall ((Oida, Yoshi. Marshall, Lorna 1997, The Invisible Actor. Cox & Wyman, Reading Berkshire))
  • How I Became Invisible By David Rattray ((Rattray, David 1993 How I Became Invisible , Semiotext,U.S.: Central Bks))

Among quotes from these texts, we created our own words to record and say over the footage for the final edit for the video to create a narrative. We edited the text also to focus it on feminist views instead so we could connect more with the text we had found and going to write.

When creating this, I also realised how much in common it has with my own work of Liminal, Compact and Ignored spaces and the sense of hiding but wanted to be seen in the space. Because of this, I have decided to place some of this work in the CCTV room on the cord board along with the pre-recorded CCTV video.

The Difficulty of Fiction

So here I stand, in my gallery (well, that’s a lie, here I sit at a computer screen in the library, but since my piece is based around the idea of perpetuating the fiction of what things are not, then this is fairly appropriate. Let’s close our eyes and imagine I’m in my gallery. Then open them again so that you can read this post. There, that’s better).

Before me lie quite a few things – mundane things, everyday, if we look at them with our eyes. Here’s one now:

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‘Isolation and immobility, then, are the two conditions the imagination requires if it is to be preserved from the ruinous distractions or ‘invasions’ of reality.’ (1977, pp., 41)

Certainly, this applies in the creation of my mythologies, if I write within the gallery, in a place I have re-appropriated as an escapist sanctuary for the purposes of performance anyway, my work is generally more productive, though sometimes the sheer banality of the place works against me. Immobility, too, helps the imagination – my imagination anyway. Blindfolded and tucked away into my little sleeping-ledge it is sometimes easier to let my mind drift and adapt pre-existing pieces of narrative. Isolation though, works not only for me, but for the audience of my piece – the last thing I want in my gallery are the ‘invasions of reality’ as Sturrock puts it. While it helps that the living room tends to be silent as the grave, the space itself has a Spartan cell-like feel to it (indeed, one of my first ideas for performance in there was of me portraying a prisoner within these monastic confines, but the rationale was never truly there) which can only accentuate feelings of isolation from reality. The grate down near the floor that allows a link to reality outside the house seems only to increase feelings of isolation, since even though you have a link to the outside, you feel even more withdrawn from it somehow.

Currently, I still have a couple more narratives to write fully but I have forsaken some last sessions within the gallery to visit home (ridiculous, I know!). I wonder if I will still be able to create absorbing legends when I don’t have access to the isolation and immobility the gallery can provide to me. I worry that my current narratives will deteriorate over time and not cling to the meaning they once held, or never held at all. I wrestle with the idea that meaning is fluid or completely unnecessary and that all I provide as the blind curator is an alternative viewing of the real, wrapping it in the fictional, the escapist. However, in the end, it may just be out of control – reading Borges own works of fiction, I am struck by this particular passage from The Library of Babel in relation to my own worries about the contents of my gallery:

‘Man, the imperfect librarian, may be the product of chance or of malevolent demiurgi; the universe, with its elegant endowment of shelves, of enigmatical volumes of inexhaustible stairways for the traveller and latrines for the seated librarian, can only be the work of a god.’ (1964, pp., 79)

Now, I cannot knowingly cite my gallery as the work of a divine entity, but this passage shows me that ownership of the gallery is not mine, not even close – it exists ab aeterno and will show me in time what it wants to say.

References:

Borges, J. L., 1964. Labyrinths. Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd.

Sturrock, J., 1977. Paper Tigers: The ideal fictions of Jorge Luis Borges. Oxford: Oxford University Press.