Home – Page 8 – ________-Safe House-_________

“Home is where the heart is…”

Faye Rose Mcdool / February 1, 2013May 13, 2013 / CCTV, Documentation, Home

IMG-20130129-00496 — Taken By Faye McDool

Home is “the place of one’s dwelling and nurturing, with its association” ((Little, W (1969) “The Oxford Universal Dictionary”, London: Oxford University Press.)). Entering the house, I got the complete opposite feeling to this definition of home. My first impressions were that the house was cold, damp, dirty and therefore a perfect performance space for a site specific performance.

From the reading, Pearson lists the differences between a performance on a stage and site specific. “At site, it is always as if for the first time” ((Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. p17 )). Gaining the unique opportunity and experience to devise a piece from the house made everyone begin to have ideas for the final piece. Using the CCTV equipment installed in the house, the idea was said to prerecord some material and play it during the live performance causing juxtaposition. This could be used to a great extent as we could play with the audience and their reaction to the performance by filming it.

Learning how to use the CCTV system was very interesting to see the rooms from a different prospective . I found Govans Revisioning Place “ inhabiting space” interesting reflecting on the CCTV. “Making performance which deals with travel, context and orientation” ((Govan, Emma, et al (2007) Making a Performance, Devising Histories and Contemporary Practices Oxon and USA, Routledge p121)) From watching the groups in different rooms and how they adjusted to them to make a performance made me think of this as they all explored the rooms and what was in them. They also played a lot with props and explored the cupboards so they became more familiar with the space after their orientation.

When watching the groups, I was reflecting on how I could see everything in the rooms and what performance rehearsals were occurring. “From a different disciplinary standpoint” ((Pearson, Mike 2010, Site Specific Performance, Palgrave p23)) I had an inspirational idea from Eve Dent. Her work involves adjusting her body to where ever she decides to hides and only being able see her if you’re looking for her but to most people, she is invisible. This gave me the idea of the audience to explore and challenge them to find places to hide around the house. Some should be obvious that other but in some rooms like master bed room, there is a cupboard where you can fit at least two people and it would be interesting to see if they open the cupboard to find the performers. “Organic connection between art and the environment.” ((Govan, Emma, et al (2007) Making a Performance, Devising Histories and Contemporary Practices Oxon and USA, Routledge p133))

dent — Event Dent ((Eve Dent, Tel Aviv,, Google Images Accessed 1/2/2012))

060405ab — Eve Dent ((Eve Dent, Bird in the House,, Google Images Accessed 1/2/2012))

While I was watching the other groups on the CCTV, I had become familiar with listening in to their conversations. Making this productive we recorded it on the CCTV then writing down creating a script which we then went to that particular room and repeated it to them. This is the use of Verbatim. “The term verbatim refers to the origins of the text spoken in the play. The words of real people are recorded or transcribed be a dramatist during interview or research process…actors take on the characters of the real individuals whose words are being used.” ((Hammond, Will & Steward, Dan , 2008. Verbatim p9)) We tested and their reaction was just what we was looking for. This also links back to the reading and the Last Supper. “gives voice to the voiceless.” ((Govan, Emma. Nicholson, Helen & Normingtion, Katie 2007 Making a performance. Routledge p115)) As an audience member, one usually may think they are not allowed the speak during a performance and giving the the realisation that they have been watched. However, we had the idea of listening in to their conversation when none of the performers are in the room and repeating it to them when they least expect it.

“This sense of evoking the invisible is increased through a number of devices, including the director’s encouragement of ‘non-performing’, … Indeed, the whole status of the performers is ambiguous. Are the actors themselves? (they are named as such in the script.) Are they personas? Are they momentarily representations of the people whose words the speak?” ((Govan, Emma. Nicholson, Helen & Normingtion, Katie 2007 Making a performance. Routledge p115))

The Language of Sheds

Tom Briggs / January 28, 2013May 13, 2013 / Home, Performance process, Rooms

The Garden Shed is “an attempt to create a separate world within a world, over which we have control and the means not only to imagine but to shape” (( Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning of Home, London: Frances Lincoln, p. 114 )) .

Man has always sought refuge, originally from the elements, building huts over which he had complete control, more recently as huts developed into homes these became the domain of the woman, be it the matriarch or the housewife. The man required refuge from the home itself, an inner sanctum, for some this is the office or the study, but for the everyday man a slapdash construction of corrugated iron and broken down fence panels could become a shrine to all things masculine, a place “for retreating into and thinking” (( Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning of Home, London: Frances Lincoln, p.115)).

Our sheds stand opposite each other almost mirror images. Their measurements are almost identical a square of concrete 6ft X 6ft for a floor, a single window facing out onto the shared courtyard, a large porcelain basin against the wall that stands on two pillars bare brick like the walls.

Everywhere the sure signs of decay, chipped and peeling paint, years of dust and cobweb are mingled with long dead insects and their living relatives. These sheds do also have their own individual characteristics which distinguish them and their former inhabitants, show the inescapable signs of practical minds in these confined spaces.

Shed A (named solely because it is almost always the first seen) is a bright space, full of the marks of human habitation, the slightly shoddy handmade shelves show a man more interested in function than design, further evidenced by the range of colours that can be seen on the walls. Most interestingly there are pencil marks recording long forgotten measurements for some project or other. These reveal the workings of a practical man, one of precision and detail, the man who builds.

Which brings us to an interesting stand point, the perceptions of man, there has for some time been a dichotomy in the perception of the masculine and inherent contradiction whereby the male creature is equally expected to be builder, protector and all round knight in shining armour and at the same time being suspected a pervert, peeping tom and general sexual deviant.

It occurs to me that this contradiction, and these extremes are incompatible and a solution must be found to reconcile them. It does equally occur to me that a reasonable person is capable of comprehending that to a certain degree these traits exist in all men and equally in all people, but performers are by and large not reasonable people, so I think it’s about time we took these two extremes the peeping tom and handy man and the various materials of their trades/hobbies/perversions locked them all in a room for 16 hours and see what we can be built, what can be corrupted, and where is the balance? If sheds are “Spaces we construct in which to dream” ((Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning of Home, London: Frances Lincoln, p.114)) what shape will this dream take? These are some big questions and will probably require some further thought, so I’ll be in the shed if you need me.

CCTV- Dance like no one’s watching

Lizzy Hayes / January 28, 2013May 10, 2013 / CCTV, Home, Performance process, Research

For me home is a place where you feel safe and comfortable, not only in your surroundings or company but also within yourself. It is a place where you can be yourself without fear of judgment, where you can do and say the things that others might not appreciate or understand…even if you are only saying them to yourself. I think this is why I am most drawn to the CCTV room on our site- because it breaches the contract of safety and privacy I associate with a home. As I mention in my ‘Meet the residents’ section, the CCTV room makes me feel slightly omniscient, and I’m not sure I like that. We have all heard stories or seen films where CCTV is used in a perverted manner to breach privacy or capture some horrific and disturbing ordeal. These influences make it very easy for us to see ourselves using the CCTV in our performance to create negative or disturbing scenes and use them to inject a sense of unease or fear into our audience.

Image by Jozey Wade 2013

But what if we contradicted the norm? What if we used the CCTV to capture the normal, funny, peculiar little things we all do when we think no one is watching. Again, as I mentioned in my ‘meet the residents’ section, “I have always found human behaviour fascinating, so having the opportunity to see how others behave in an environment where people watching is normally prohibited is exciting: especially when the environment is as intriguing as its inhabitants”. Because you can deny it all you want, but we all talk to ourselves, we all dance like no one is watching, sing like no one can hear you and apologize to inanimate objects for bumping into them. We all do these things when we are alone (and I have only listed a few things) and our guard is down. We do them in a place that we associate with safety and ONLY when we are sure no one is watching, because for others to see us act like that would make us vulnerable.

I believe that scene’s like this could be used very effectively used to create a mood or atmosphere in our performance. They are comic because every one can associate with them: but is it not also disturbing knowing that someone has seen you do those things that no one else is meant to see? Could it instil a sense of panic in the audience who hope no one has seen them like that? Could we watch and see how many people admit to having done the same thing once they know another person has? And would it not contrast nicely with a live performance of a completely different topic or nature?

I know I earlier spoke against using the CCTV for darker scenes but could it be shocking to see one innocent scene turn into one of domestic violence? What if the person on camera wasn’t just talking to themselves in a seemingly empty room?

A place that was mine

Kayleigh Anne Brewster / January 26, 2013May 12, 2013 / Home

When we were told, during our first visit to the house, to go to the place that drew us to it the most I considered going to the ‘cot room’ as I felt quite disturbed when I entered the room. However, I instead found myself walking into the master bedroom, with the intention of sitting in the cupboard, and found Lauren with the intention of doing the same thing. Fortunately, the cupboard was just big enough to fit the two of us. Pearson states that “A place owes its character to the experiences it affords to those who spend time there – to the sights, sounds and indeed smells that constitute ambience” (2010) and, whilst I may not have spent any time in the cupboard in that house before that moment it instantly reminded me of a cupboard in different house, in a different country, that I spent time in as a little girl. The time that I spent in my cupboard and the memories I created there is what connected me to this space.

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Photo belongs to Jozey Wade

I’ve read that “The wardrobe and the cupboard are the house within the house, their doors open onto an ever more private real of intimate things” (Heathcote, 2012) which I think is particularly relevant to the experiences I had with my cupboard. The house that my cupboard belonged to was in my room, only it wasn’t just my room it was my brothers room as well. He didn’t like his bedroom, the wind would blow against the window and he said it sounded like a ghost, he wouldn’t sleep there. So we decided to share a room, we could have swapped but I think I was scared too, I just wouldn’t admit it. I didn’t mind sharing with my brother but even as a small child I had always felt the need for my own space. A place where I could go when something had upset me or when I simply felt the need to be alone, a place in which I could sort through my emotions, a place to call mine. I found that in the cupboard in my bedroom, my brother wasn’t tall enough to reach it, and I could just manage to pull myself into it and pull the door shut. It was my space, in a space that was no longer just mine. This is what the cupboard in the house on west parade reminded me of, and due to the feel of the house I can imagine another small child using it to hide away. A place they could go to cry, to think, to hide, to be angry; just like mine was to me.

Works Cited:

Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, Basingstokw Palgrave Macmillan

Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning of Home, London: Francis Lincoln

So…I Am Sitting In A Cupboard.

Lauren Bethany Elouise Watson / January 23, 2013May 13, 2013 / Home, Rooms

Cupboards and “doors open onto an ever more private realm of intimate things” ((Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning Of Home, London: Frances Lincoln, p. 77)), and because of this unique quality they give you a chance to find a place to hide away, somewhere different faraway….and safe. On another plane, not quite belonging to a floor or area. Something not used just for storage of things, but also of memories, people and tears. This is what I found in our new house.

The cupboard in the bedroom instantly reminded me of my last home. An old bedroom. A walk in cupboard which housed the boiler…my favourite teddies. A place to play hide and seek, or a place to go and cry. Until five years ago it had always been my room.

I have one stand out memory of this hiding place. It’s not exactly pleasant, so I think that’s why the feel of the house triggered them.
I had been told off at school for talking during a Math lesson, and I remember getting home, getting into that space, and crying. In the space, I started to do maths wrong as a sort of punishment on purpose. It was a place where I could judge myself without being judged by my mum, or being a burden. I have never really cried in front of my mum, even to this day, because I thought (and indeed still think) that I had to be strong for her – to be a ‘big girl’ and help look after my brother because we were a single parent family.

Now the boiler is gone, and the room is no longer mine to claim…but it still feels like home to me.

To close the cupboard door and sit in silence was perfect, and something I still crave. Not necessarily a cupboard anymore, but just the darkness and a closed door. I got brought up to be independent, fiercely so. I didn’t have much of a choice – we moved around a bit, I helped raised my eldest younger brother, and I became my mum’s confidant. I had to be strong for her so never cried. I had to grow up quick.

So, sitting here in my cupboard in our house on West Parade, not quite in the darkness with the door open, the cupboard floods me with memories. Memories of crying where no-one else could see. A place of putting myself down. It’s the dark cupboard that let me cry and I’ll always be grateful.
A little place where I could go to be a child.

A place where, looking back, I developed my gratitude and strive for learning.

A place which shaped me.

Taken by Jozey Wade, 3rd February 2013.

In this anti-space, I can see something quiet and personal being developed, something hidden that the audience has to find; a human installation. With personal experiences, transforming such a small space could be something very beautiful and touching, allowing “[our] past to surge into the present” ((McAuley quoted in Pearson, Mike (2010) Site-Specific Performance, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 10)). The bedroom (and therefore , by extension, our cupboard) is “the most intimate, the most private and the most precious” ((Heathcote, Edwin (2012) The Meaning Of Home, London: Frances Lincoln., p. 71)) room in the house, so what happens if we both heightened and paradoxed these notions? If we created the bedroom to be safe and welcoming, almost of that of a childs, and the cupboard to expose the adult side of the bedroom. To have two highly polarized notions in such close proximity would create a powerful and contrasting performance, giving both audience members a completely different, and unique, experience.

When dealing with the cupboard, the bedroom and what lies there cannot be ignored. To fuse the two performance areas would make a stronger and more fulfilling performance. For example, when dealing with children; their imaginations, emotions, expectations and understanding of reality, you are allowed to bend the rules and break the conventions and restraints of social normality, so what happens if we took this notion and transfered it to the bedroom?

In the bedroom we get read fairy tales. We can all name at least one fairy tale or bedtime story I’m sure. However, with retrospect and looking at them through ‘adult’ eyes, we find hidden meanings, basic moral lessons, and sometimes things we don’t deem all that appropriate now we have experienced and lived within the adult world. A perfect example of this is the notion of the ‘Animal Groom’. Bettelheim puts forward the notion that “for love [to occur], a radical change in previously held attitudes about sex is absolutely unnecessary” and that “a common feature to [the fairy tales] is the sexual partner first experienced as an animal” ((Bettelheim, Bruno (1978[1991]) The Uses of Enchantment, London: Penguin Books, p. 282.)) becomes transformed into a, usually, handsome being. However, when viewed from an adult’s perspective it becomes disturbing: a woman committing bestiality and embedding the notion of being submissive and compliant within relationships from an early age.

It has become increasingly apparent that mixing adult themes into children’s literature appears to be as old as fairy tales and folklore itself. What happens if we make the literature, or the space, overtly adult? Would it still fall within the classifications of a fairy tale if lessons were learned the frame work complied. Could we argue that we are just modernising the literature? If the undertones of lost virginity and the exploration of the notion that “there are no longer any sexual secrets which must remain unknown” ((Bettelheim 1978, p. 308)), Beauty and the Beast would no longer be read as an innocent children’s story. If we were to transfer the adult side of the bedroom into the cupboard, but still make it apparent and blatantly obvious, would our bedroom still be considered safe? To create a narrative, played in the bedroom, but not in the bed, with adult intentions would be the epitome of this.