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With the baby oil handcuffs and gags…do you still want to see me?
I wasn’t expecting this…

Lauren Bethany Elouise Watson / / Documentation, Home, Performance process, Rooms

In my final performance I cried.  I found my way into hysterics. This is because I had female voyeurs in the chair. My friends who know and love me…and who cried first.
When I heard their sobs, it made me realise my situation – that I was actually tied, bound and gagged in a cupboard, naked and completely vulnerable. At first it wasn’t too bad, just a few tears and silent sobs. But by the second female voyeur, we both ended up in hysterical sobs. I had to keep looking at them, the voyeur, my friends in the chair, but it became impossible. By the end of the second female voyeur, I had to cover my face and cry into my hands just as the cupboard doors were closed.

The experience left me shocked, shaken and very emotional. I had never expected to feel like that, I had always expected that the male voyeur would be harder…to look a man in the eye and exert dominance. But to feel empathy from a fellow woman, and to reduce each other to tears is something completely different, unexpected and exceptionally unique and moving. Just like it Marina Abramović’s work, my “audience became genuine co-creators of the performance” ((Freshwater, Helen (2009) Theatre & Audience, London: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 63.)).  The reactions by all voyeurs, male and female, were triggered by me. My body, and my voice. “You are the topic…You are the centre. You are the occasion. You are the reasons why” ((Freshwater, Helen (2009) Theatre & Audience, London: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 1.)), and all these reactions were different. Some men knelt, some studied the pictures around the room with forced intensity, some looked away, others looked confused, sad, and some looked me over.

It was a shame that I couldn’t record the voyeurs reaction to me, my body, my voice. After all, I was getting filmed and observed, so my emotional breakdown was seen not only my the voyeur, but also by the CCTV crew, so it is a shame that the voyeur was in the CCTV blind spot, so only I could see their reactions. I am the only one to see their reactions, and will be the only one. That moment will never be re-shown or re-lived, making it truly a once in a life time experience. The submissive having all the knowledge, and therefore power is honestly an empowering, yet juxtaposed, position.

“When should you be naked and when should you be dressed?
What is performance?
What is the performance body?
…What is your responsibility to your audience?
If the performance is performed again, what are rules?
What is the role of the audience?
Silent voyeur or active participant?
What about reputation?” ((Marina Abramović (2010) ‘Foreword: Unanswered Questions’ in C. Conroy Theatre & the Body, London: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. viii-x. Pp. ix-x.)).

These questions caused anxiety, especially in relation to the naked body and reputation. I thought it would most difficult to perform to lecturers and men, as I would have to see them again afterwards, and I was worried about my reputation and the working relationship which had been previously developed would be forced to change. However, on the evenings of performance, these turned out to be the easiest. Although initially scared, I began to enjoy the performance; watching their reactions and their discomfort, and final submission was empowering.

Were the audience “just viewers, or accomplices, witnesses, participants?” ((Freshwater, Helen (2009) Theatre & Audience, London: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 3.)). In relation to our performance in the bedroom and cupboard, the audience can be seen as all four. The house as a whole challenged the audience/performer relationship, and changed the pre-established dynamic. As they entered our performance space, the audience are unknowingly turned into accomplices and witnesses; witnessing the hidden adult world of the bedroom, while also becoming an accomplice to the performer in the bed, viewing and examining the female form in the cupboard. As performers, we knew what relationship we wanted to forge with the audience; “the relationship with the audience provides the performance with its rationale. This relationship is indispensible” ((Freshwater, Helen (2009) Theatre & Audience, London: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 2.)).

Pushing past my personal boundaries, often being pushed rather than walking willingly, while dealing with nudity, the body, and eye contact have definitely shaped me, not only as a performer, but as a person. It’s interesting that at the beginning of this entire adventure I stated that when I was younger, the cupboard was the place which shaped me, and made me grow up faster than I should have done. So to have this experience mirrored is a little disconcerting, but also comforting.  This process, although difficult at times, created a moving and unique performance. Not just in the cupboard, but in the bedroom as a whole. By supporting and pushing each other as performers, we managed to create something which we were incredibly proud of, and something which will never be performed again.

“Presence. Being present, over long stretches of time, Until presence rise and falls, from Material to immaterial, from Form to formless, from Instrumental to mental, from Time to timeless” ((Marina Abramović (2010) ‘Foreword: Unanswered Questions’ in C. Conroy Theatre & the Body, London: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. viii-x. P. viii.)).

Although we have left the house, our rooms and our performances, our presence will always be felt in that house on West Parade. How the rooms were transformed and broke away from the conventions of a ‘house’. The cupboard will now always be tainted, at least in my eyes. A place which created its own meaning and now stirs its own memories.

This experience, this journey, and the barriers I have overcome during this process…nothing can compare to it. And I don’t think it ever will.

These are the ancestors

Lizzy Hayes / / CCTV, Documentation, Home, Music / Sound, Performance process, Research, Rooms

While the footage on its own had a great aesthetic effect  we decided that a relevant reading played over the top of each video clip would add to it. Each of us took on three rooms for which to find or write a text that we felt connected to the image, or added to or complimented the narrative of the clip. Considering the title of the whole performance was called ‘Safe House’ I looked in U.A. Fanthorpes “Safe As Houses”  (( U.A. Fanthorpe (1995) Safe As Houses: Poems by U.A. Fanthorpe. Cornwall: Peterloo Poets – a book of short poems )) . I found that the first stanza of the poem Haunting connected with mood and movement of the CCTV footage of the landing, discussing shadows and ancestors who just passed through. This coupled with the second stanza of the poem Last House  created a piece that spoke of shadows in three different senses-the darkness that requires light to be present, the ghost or image of a dead person, and the Shakespearean term for an actor.

“These are the ancestors. The shadow people,
who now and then lean softly from the dark
and stroke on chin or thumb the new generation.
This is their last performance. The delegate yaws doubtfully, as audiences do,
wanting the star to fall… but not until the last reel, at sunset, to the right music.” (( An adaptation of two poems by U.A. Fanthorpe (1995) Safe As Houses: Poems by U.A. Fanthorpe. Cornwall: Peterloo Poets ))

Another of my readings was a piece by David Rattray. His piece spoke of the fragility and ambiguity of existence in a way that complimented the brief existence of each of the life forms in every image.

“Life is a fragile hybrid pulsing, instant by instant, between being and nothingness. Even if every person on earth were to vanish suddenly from time and space, the mere fact of the absence would suffice to make humanity remain identical to what it already was. Absent.” (( Rattray, David (1992) How I Became One of The Invisible. USA: Semiotext p. 204 ))

For my final reading I took the lines of Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare’s Macbeth and used them for the kitchen footage. In this stanza the Lady Macbeth discusses the place of women in the house and how strong the female kind are and this felt attuned to the place of the women in the modern day kitchen.

Installation piece-Kitchen. By Lizzy Hayes, Lauren Hughes, Faye Mcdool

(To view all the installation video clips with voice recordings please visit Lauren Hughes YouTube account on http://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-d_h3abFFc4K36mLaNFaDw?feature=watch )

This was not the only feminist reading we acquired. For two of the other clips we used lines from H. G Wells’ book The Invisible Man but decided to alter the narrative to make them the voice of a woman. Not only was the text relevant to the clips in the text but also to us as CCTV operatives. We were the people who could see everything whilst remaining unseen.

Each video and sound clip was played off of a different screen, on a loop, in synchronisation and in a darkened room. For me the effect was haunting. To sit in the dark having nine different voices speak or whisper nine different pieces of text from varying points in the room felt like I was sat in the dark the centre of the  mind of a very thoughtful but confused person. Once again, I felt like I had power beyond my status: not only was I hearing the somewhat disjointed thoughts of various writers, poets and even fellow actors, but I still had the power to see the movements of every other person in the house. My way of overcoming the strange feeling? Play with the power.

 

 

Less ketchup, more Howells.

Jozey Wade / / Documentation, Home, Performance process, Research, Rooms

 

Having set my sights on the aspect of purging, involving both myself and the audience, I tested out my Andre Stitt inspired performance idea.

Fun Ketchup times
Picture taken 08/03/2013 by Angela Graham

Unfortunately, covering myself in a substance (which ended up being tomato ketchup – as can be seen above) was not as successful as I would have liked, and I decided that it did not fit well with the logistics of the entire performance in the house.

Since then, I have explored the work of other performance artists who explore the idea of purging and/ or audience involvement.

Adrian Howells work, while not directly described as purging, deals with confession – which is, in a way, a cleansing for the soul. As a matter of fact, as we see in the above video, one of his performances is actually called Foot Washing For The Sole. In this performance he washes and massages an audience member’s feet while partaking in a confessional exchange with them. In much the same way, in another of his performances, known as Salon Adrienne, he dresses in drag (which he explains – or confesses – makes him feel more comfortable in his own skin) within a hair salon and performs as the audience members hair dresser while conversing with them in a manner that one would not normally with a stranger but perhaps with a friend, confessing and encouraging them to confess to him things about themselves to him.

This idea of spending time with a stranger in a way that you would only usually do so with a close friend really rang true with a lot of exploration I had done and discussed within the bathroom. As Conan so eloquently put – What if you are just having a bath and you invite people in? 

One thing that has remained in my head throughout all of my exploration and research has been that the bathroom is a private place. What we do in the bathroom, we generally don’t do in front of anyone. But even if there are people we do it in front of – it is close family or lovers. All along I have seen this privacy as an almost sacred thing and the idea of anyone invading it as somehow dangerous or perverted. However, inspired by Howells’ practises, I have come to look at it from another angle. Inviting a stranger into this private space is sharing something intimate with them; it evokes and highlights the importance and gratification of human interaction. Without trying to be corny, there is actually something quite beautiful about it. Undeniably, it would be frightening, for both audience member and performer, but that fear and overcoming it together adds to what it would achieve.

http://totaltheatrereview.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/l_any/reviews/adrian-howells-pleasure-being.jpg

 

Another aspect of Howell’s work which stands out as appropriate to my bathroom piece, is that it is one to one – as can be seen in the above picture of his performance, The Pleasure of Being: Washing, Feeding, Holding. This “shift in the traditional performer/spectator divide” ((Heddon D, Iball H, Zerihan R. ‘Come Closer: Confessions of Intimate Spectators in One to One Performance’, Contemporary Theatre Review. February 2012;22(1) pp. 120-133.)) before anything else, almost automatically makes the performance an interactive one. It turns “the audience’s role into one that receives (and) responds” ((Heddon D, Iball H, Zerihan R. ‘Come Closer: Confessions of Intimate Spectators in One to One Performance’, Contemporary Theatre Review. February 2012;22(1) pp. 120-133.)) much more directly, and “is actively solicited, engendered as a participant” ((Heddon D, Iball H, Zerihan R. ‘Come Closer: Confessions of Intimate Spectators in One to One Performance’, Contemporary Theatre Review. February 2012;22(1) pp. 120-133.)). As I said previously, audience involvement in my piece is something I want. And although previously I was perhaps looking at having two audience members at a time (which may have worked just fine with the Adrian Stitt inspired idea), having explored Howells’ work, I feel that being one to one with each audience member that sees my piece would be much more effective. The intimacy that is created in is performances, largely due to them being one to one, is the kind of intimacy I wish to create in my bathroom.

The performance shown in the above picture –  The Pleasure of Being: Washing, Feeding, Holding – was actually done in a hotel bathroom. Interestingly, it is the first piece of performance art in a bathroom that I have managed to find at all, so I was quite excited to read about it. The bathroom was set up with “a bath full of bubbles and rose petals, candles in glass jars” ((Prior, D (2011)’ Adrian Howells: The Pleasure of Being: Washing, Feeding, Holding’ Total Theatre Review, 22 August, accessed 20 March 2013, http://totaltheatrereview.com/reviews/pleasure-being-washing-feeding-holding)) which is just how intend to decorate my bathroom. I want to create that inviting, warm and relaxing atmosphere. I want the audience member to enjoy being there, despite how awkward a situation it is in reality. In her review, Dorothy Max Prior compares the bathroom scene in Howells’ performance to somewhere you would spend “an assignation with a new lover” ((Prior, D (2011)’ Adrian Howells: The Pleasure of Being: Washing, Feeding, Holding’ Total Theatre Review, 22 August, accessed 20 March 2013, http://totaltheatrereview.com/reviews/pleasure-being-washing-feeding-holding)), which goes back to what I have been saying all along – if there is anyone you would allow to see you in the bath, it would be close family or a lover. This is exactly the scene I want to create… and then invite a stranger in.

There is a key difference however, between what Howells’ piece involved and what mine will. As the performer, Howells puts the audience member in the bath, pampers and bathes them. I, on the other hand, intend the flip this around, in that I will be the one in the bath; I will be the one in the vulnerable and private situation and I will ask the audience member to help wash me. I am choosing to do it this way partly because my performance is merely part of a larger collective performance and I must always bare this in mind, so to let the audience know they may have to bring swim wear specifically for my part of the performance would be quite difficult (and the likelihood of many audience members willingly getting naked is remote). I am, however, also choosing to do it this way because of the importance of the room in my performance by comparison to Howells’. The bathroom and what it means to us is something I need and want to get across (as our performance is about home) and I think, for the audience member to walk in on someone bathing as they usually would in the comfort of their own home, relates to and represents this more than treating them as though they are at a spa day. 

 

 

Façade

Tiffany Abatilda Thompson / / Home, Performance process, Rooms, Uncategorized

“A Division between spaces that are used as a façade, and other spaces where a personal, hidden life takes place” ((Rechavi B. Taylor (2009) ‘A room for living: Private and public aspects in the experience of a living room’,A journal of environmental psychology, 29 (1) March: pp. 133-143.  P.133.)). I would consider the living room to be less private out of all the rooms in a house, we always invite our guests into this room as it’s the most socially acceptable. “The living room, as such, is not where more secretive or personal aspects of the dweller manifests themselves” ((ibid, p. 134.)) that is left for the more intimate spaces such as the bedroom. In the Living room we tend to show off and perform a different face of reality, a mere perfect imitation of it when we have people around. Why do we do this? Do we do this to pretend we live in a perfect world?

We dress our living rooms on how we interpret our vision of home and the feeling of homeliness. Also, different people have different visions of home and what that looks like. As well as this, you can tell a lot about the person living there with how the living room is presented and styled. For example, if a person is disabled and or in a wheelchair the living room and house would be set out in a way where a wheelchair could navigate around easily.
I feel like our performance in the living room is a facade as we are showing the living rooms true face of reality. Whether we are on our own, with family or people we are comfortable with we tend to show a horrible side of reality that we are not sociable anymore and if we are it’s through virtual devices and in our performance we show this.

“Seems I’m talking my whole life, it’s time I listen now”

Lauren Elizabeth Walker / / Home, Music / Sound, Performance process, Research

“Like his voice can’t deal with things it has to describe, That’s the thing you have to do with a voice after all – make it speak of the things you cannot deal with- makes it speak of the illegal ” ((Tim Etchells (1999). Certain Fragments. New york: Routledge. 98-176))

What if you take away all the voices? What if a performance has no words, no specific message and is completely open to the audience’s interpretation, but surely silence has meaning?

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bm_tTkHooZI 

In this you tube video, the university student talks about the value of silence and quotes her professor he describes how “Every individual structures their attitudes, beliefs, lifestyle, and behaviours around a theme. What is the life philosophy by which you live, and how has it shaped you as a person?” She goes on to say that her theme is the value of silence and of a quiet mind, she explains that “It’s something that I think is particularly relevant to modern youth, because the observation of silence is not something that our generation engages in enough” What happens when we explore the diversity and difficulty of silence in different situations? People like to focus on words and sounds, because they are comfortable words make a house feel homely. People are scared of silence, they are obsessed with noise they find it difficult to be alone to just shut the curtains; lock there doors. People are afraid because it is unfamiliar, when you isolate yourself there is no where to run.

She also says “I don’t think that practicing silence is necessary for observing silence. It has to do more with having a quiet mind than physically immersing oneself in silence” In our performance as our piece is a durational performance and we are going to have to have a quiet mind and physically immerse our self into our performance in silence.

Tim etchells talks about the meaning of silence, he made a list of silence of different situations

“ These are some examples of the list of silences

The kind of silence you sometimes get in phone calls to a person that you love.

The kind of silence people only dream of.

The kind of silence that follows a car crash.

The kind of silence between waves at the ocean”

Some examples that really interested me and relate to our room are…

“The kind of silence after a big argument

The kind of silence that only happens at night

The kind of silence is only for waiting in” ((Tim Etchells (1999). Certain Fragments. New york: Routledge. 98-176))

What if you took the kind of silence that is only for waiting in, and put it in a homely environment? Would that make the audience feel uncomfortable would they feel like there waiting for something? Our audience may feel that they are waiting for something to happen in our performance but it never does.

What if you left a room waiting?

“The atmosphere still retained the oppressiveness of a religious space; it seemed natural to speak in whispers. I felt my way along the corridor and opened the door at the end. The peeling paintwork of the synagogue was lit by warm yellow candlelight” ((Rachel Linchtenstein and Iain Sinclair (1999) Rodinsky’s Room: an excerpt http://www.artangel.org.uk//projects/1999/rodinsky_s_whitechapel/excerpt/excerpt (acessed: 10 April 2013)))

Rondinskys Room is story of what became of the reclusive Jewish scholar David Rondinsky, whose room at 19 Princlet street London was discovered undisturbed and had been left for 20 years after. As I was reading and researching into the story I found myself asking the question what silence would you call the silence of a room left alone to gather dust for 20 years be? Going on from what I was saying earlier about “the silence of waiting” I feel that this is the silence that applies to his room. When we go on holiday our house is waiting for us to come back, to make it home again. I feel that when I come home after being on holiday my house seems different smells different, sometimes even looks different we have to adjust ourselves to that space and learn to live in it again.  Rondinskys room was waiting for him to come back to come home but he never did, and was found by somebody else someone that it wasn’t familiar with. I feel that this added to the atomosphere in the room, and if we can create this kind of feeling for the audience in the living room it will be a very frightning and awkward situation for them to be in.