Category Archives: Hunger

Progressive Dramaturgy

Learning the language of a play

Stephanie Greer and Alan Humphreys. Photo: Eileen Long

Stephanie Greer and Alan Humphreys. Photo: Eileen Long

On our second night in residence at the Bike Shed Theatre, David Lane held a discussion on progressive dramaturgy, and the dramaturgical processes we went on with The Disappearance of Sadie Jones. This is a transcript of the event. 

David began by reading a poem by Billy Collins. It is a poem also quoted in an article on dramaturgy by Mark Bly called ‘Pressing an Ear against The Hive’ (Theatre Topics, Vol.13, No.1)

Introduction to Poetry
By Billy Collins

I asked them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the wall for a light switch.

I want them to water-ski
Across the surface of a poem
Waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
To find out what it really means.

David went on to contextualise his work with quotes about dramaturgy and a brief history of the role. I am leaving these parts out and jumping straight to the meat. What follows is a slightly abridged transcription of the session:

David Lane: Sarah Dickenson describes the dramaturg as a ‘situational role’: it’s always going to be different depending on the project you are working on. I personally think about it in two ways. Every piece of theatre has a dramaturgy, made up of its composition – all the elements contained within it such as acting, light, sound, music, text, staging, how the audience is cast, how the audience move through the work imaginatively, intellectually, physically….and we use the word ‘dramaturgy’ to define it as a dynamic system: all of those forces working with one another in different combinations at different times throughout the piece. The other way of thinking about it is as a process….

Dramaturgs in the UK tend to be working with new writing but not solely. The thing that separates the dramaturg’s role from the director’s is that not all directors know how to work with a playwright from nothing to a 3rd or 4th draft of a play: that’s a key skill, and it involves working with every writer in a different way in order to help that writer write the work they want to write. One of the reasons I’ll end up working freelance is that writers want someone to work with them who isn’t a theatre, because perhaps they feel they will get feedback that’s just about them and their work, rather than feedback delivered in the shadow of a particular artistic agenda.

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I’ve worked in two capacities: the first is what I call a ‘desk dramaturg’. I do a lot of work with the script and writer, over the phone or in a room, with the writer, director, whole company….it will be about structure… you can see on the walls around us some of the ‘desk’ work, which is about introducing the play to the whole company by looking at its composition, what organises it, what makes it tick as a piece of work.

The other role is a ‘floor dramaturg’, or a production dramaturg…someone who is in rehearsal with actors, director, perhaps the writer – looking at it kinaesthetically, looking at gesture, arrangement of space, light, sound, stage, and how those languages are cohering with the text to guide an audience through a play, to shape a journey for the audience through the piece.

Different dramaturgs use different metaphors, I know one who always talks about cooking, creating a recipe…I’ve developed a metaphor recently, the thing that fascinates me about plays is that every play has its own map, is unique and the minute you walk into a play and say ‘I know what you should be and if you don’t do that you’re not a play’ then you’re in massive trouble, you’re going to miss signing the Beatles. By that I mean missing the play that’s doing something progressive because it speaks a different language from the one you’ve learnt, the one you’ve decided, in your infinite wisdom, is the only way to write a play. As soon as anybody in the theatre does that you’re not listening to the play – you are listening to what you are saying the play is.

One of the things that struck me about Hannah’s work is that it really required me to be inquisitive and to trust that something of real sophistication and confidence was going on in that script which fascinated me but I didn’t understand. I had two choices at that point. I could say ‘you need to write a three act structure here because this is a total mess and I don’t get it’ or I needed to sit down and say ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here, I don’t quite get it but I want to understand it and I believe there is something in here that I’ve not seen before.’ That ended up being the journey we went on.

I look at the mapping of the play, the logic it has, what are its rules, how does it work, what are its organising principles…around what is this writing organised …what’s driving it, where are its motors…is it around a person, a political idea, a theme, a philosophy …I think about plays as a universe….everything in a play is there for a reason, so it’s there to exert some kind of force or pressure on another element somewhere in the play….whether that is an object, an idea, a line of dialogue, a gesture , it does something…everything in the script has an active purpose…an object exerts a pressure on character….location on person…..there is a dynamic universe of elements whizzing around, knocking together. I look for tension, rhythm and tempo and ask what that tells me about how ideas are positioning themselves…. I aim to learn the language of the play and to never go into a play assuming I know how to speak its language.

Stephanie Greer. photo: Eileen Long

Stephanie Greer. photo: Eileen Long

Every play should be like exploring a foreign language for the first time, and you very quickly discover structural echoes, things that are similar to your own language…it’s very rare I will sit down and read a play and not know any of its languages. I will know some of them, normally I will know 99 per cent of them. I think with this play I probably recognised about 60 per cent and wanted to know what the other 40 per cent were.

It’s about reading from the bottom up, asking what the play is trying to do ….and to approach it on its own terms. If you approach it from the top saying ‘this is what a play is’ then firstly you’ll really annoy writers and secondly you will only ever make work that looks like what you say a play is.

There is a short essay by Elinor Fuchs called ‘Visit To A Small Planet’ (Theater,
Vol. 34, No. 2, Summer 2004): the principle that Fuchs introduces is that you come to character last, and that’s a really different concept to how most of us go into a play…Normally we ask who is it about, what is their journey, what do they want?

Fuchs asks that you go into the play first looking at the world, because if you go in looking for character you’re going to miss the world that they are in. So her methodology is about the world they are in: not landscape in a physical sense, but how does the world work, does it obey laws of physics, are we in different places at once: reality, dream, a hinterland of imaginations, and reality at same time….How is the world socially or physically organised? The idea is that you try to get an understanding of how the world of the play works before judging what the people in it are doing.  They can only ever be operating in relationship to the world around them.

We have a real obsession with character driven drama in this country…we’ve learned from the schools of Aristotle, Freud, Jung, Stanislavski, Lee Strasberg, who all place character at the centre. Actor training is delivered in the same way. A lot of actor training looks at character, psychological motivation, characters in a causal world, time moving in one direction: obstacle, journey, decision, choice, success, failure, play ends…We are deeply engrained that that’s the way a play works, that it hooks around character and it’s not actually true…which brings me to the progressive bit…

Tori Haring-Smith wrote an article called Dramaturging Non-Realism (Theatre Topics, Vol. 13, No. 1). She was looking at plays by Caryl Churchill, Suzan-Lori Parks, Anne Bogart: plays that don’t exist in the ‘real world’. She plays with the vocabulary we use to talk about plays. If  ‘character’ only means someone like you or me then you are cutting out loads of options of what a person on stage could be. You can have roles, figures, ghosts, echoes, outlines, a character that represents a myth, a city…if you think of character as one concept it’s limiting. Likewise language doesn’t just mean dialogue, but how text arrives in the piece…narrative doesn’t mean story necessarily, and in fact narrative, plot and story can be viewed as different things. I believe you have to start thinking about how they can be defined more loosely to allow a bigger conception of what a play can be.

The Disappearance of Sadie Jones

The Disappearance of Sadie Jones

Julian Meyrick wrote a fantastic piece about dramaturgical development…he looks at plot, language and character being the three elements of a play but defines them in a very particular way. Plot is referred to as any sequence that arranges material in time and place: that’s not the same thing as story, that’s sequence….you might have a sequence of images, a room that’s empty that fills up: that’s a narrative of space, but it’s not plot in the way we think about character-driven, causal action. He then describes character as the points of deep understanding in a text – I think his exact wording is ‘the accumulative development of thought or feeling in time’ – ….so, if you think about Ibsen, Chekhov…we’ll come to understand their plays through these huge moments of choice the characters make….at those moments, the play contracts and action, theme, meaning all seem to condense into one choice, a moment of deep understanding….Meyrick’s idea is that this moment of deep understanding – this point of contraction – could come from music, image, the relationship between an object and people on stage…not necessarily human beings as character.

LizziebyEileenLong

Finally language does not just mean dialogue….theatre might contain the language of space, light, sound, objects, puppetry, architecture….all these are our resources as a writer….sometimes those languages speak more clearly than the language I’m using now. Meyrick comes to language as that which serves plot and character: it’s ‘the substance, verbal, visual or behavioural, by which formal coherence is expressed’. Very often in plays, the world is made coherent simply because people are speaking dialogue – but there are many other ways that a play can make its world coherent to an audience.

I think this relaxing of vocabulary in the way we think about plays is one of the first ways of thinking about playwriting and dramaturgy progressively…because you are opening up your conception of what a play can be, which is important in terms of theatre being progressive and encompassing more ways of telling stories….look at multi-platform work using iPhones, projected text, online activities, multi-platforms that require new ways of thinking about what a play is.

I was recently running a course in adaptation at the Bristol Old Vic and one of the tasks I gave writers was to adapt a Picasso painting….though I was very specific about this. Don’t use it as inspiration for something you’d normally do – actually study the Poetics of the painting. What would it look like if it were a play? What happens to character and place and time and structure? We were looking at the the later Picasso…cubist, refracted images…Why can’t we write a play like that? Why do most plays look like photos not Picasso paintings? What are poetics of the image, of a Picasso painting?

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You might walk into the Tate Modern with a certain set of interpretive tools: are these tools the same ones you expect to take into a theatre? What do you expect from an art gallery in terms of meaning, and how is that different to what you expect when you walk into a theatre? I suppose it’s my contention that we need more of how we walk into art gallery in how we walk into the theatre.

One of the things we talked about on that course was that as soon as you are in a theatre and a human walks on stage, you are working against an assumption of us being in reality…there’s a human in front of us in our real world and you have to work with or against that….a Picasso painting is its own thing and is not sitting in relation to anything apart from what we bring to it. In theatre we expect this thing over there, on the stage, to do all the work for us….I’m not sure that’s the only way to encounter writing, or to write a play.

With Picasso we are immediately removed from assumptions of realism and naturalism…it’s got its own world, its own rules…it is expressive of its subject. Someone criticised Picasso by saying he couldn’t paint a tree. He replied ‘no, I can’t: but I can paint the feeling you get when you look at a tree’, and I think that brings us back to The Disappearance of Sadie Jones.

I think what Hannah is really good at is writing the feeling you get when something happens rather than the thing itself: that’s the lens this play gives us on the world. And I think that’s a really hard thing to take as an audience sometimes, because you are anticipating a play to give meaning – in an art gallery you’re not. Where are the plays that sit in the middle of that? That say ‘move towards me audience, maybe you will come out with multiple meanings and that’s OK.’

Jackson Pollock, 1912 - 1956. Number 7, 1951

Jackson Pollock, 1912 – 1956. Number 7, 1951

If you take a Jackson Pollock – who holds the authoritative meaning on what a Pollock painting means? We are uncomfortable of theatre doing the same thing – containing hugely multiple meanings, expressing the act of expression itself – we often think with plays that there is something wrong with it, because it’s not being clear. It’s performance art, or installation, or ‘not a play’, which is reductive to this idea of progressive dramaturgy.

On the Old Vic course we also talked about structure using the language of music: recitatives, phrases, movements, sequences, chorus…all of these elements exist in writing and help structure work but often what we watch on stage is linear, with characters doing big things, making big choices that make sense to us at the end. Which I’m not sure is the only way to create stories.

So that’s just to give an introduction to in some way, the openness that was required for me coming to Hannah’s play. When I read the first draft I was excited because I knew that if I were to work on the play with Hannah it would really push me, I wanted to move towards the work and work it out, it was a challenge. One of the first things I did was to write down loads of words that came to me, and we ticked them all off – not a checklist, but an assurance that the two of us believed the play was exploring the same sorts of things….it was about all of those twenty things, yet I still had loads of questions about what was holding the play together.

Alan Humphreys playing Danny

Alan Humphreys playing Danny

Taking Fuchs’ idea of worlds, the way I organised the draft in my own head before I had a notes meeting with Hannah was to basically section off the play when I thought we moved from one world to another. The play moves between different worlds, worlds of imagination, worlds of reality, worlds of the imagination that are controlled by characters, worlds where the characters were out of control, worlds that might be at odds with the previously established time-frame of the play. There are also moments in the past that we re-visit but are fractured in some way. We’re moving between lots of worlds, so I suggested this was the organising principle of the play. So why is that, and where do we go from there…? Which is a good place to bring Hannah in…why did you want to work with a dramaturg and where were you in your process with this play?

HS: I think at the time David came to work with me, I’d actually written the play two or three years before that and had taken some time re-writing and re-drafting, and I had sent it out everywhere. I purposefully didn’t write stage directions into the script, I wanted collaborators to come in and bring their worlds to it, I wanted to work with a director and designer and I didn’t want to set what all of those things would be, I wanted that collaboration…I sent it to theatres, the usual new writing places, I got some good feedback, some ‘completely didn’t get it’ feedback, and I was really at the stage of giving up…on the play…But I also knew that if I didn’t do this play I would struggle to write the next thing…I had to see it.

So I invited David in, because he was the only person I’d met who looked at the play on its own terms. I had experienced various meetings with people who asked me a stock set of questions which I wasn’t able to answer, didn’t want to answer, and couldn’t answer until we saw the play with performers, until we’d gone through the kind of process that we’ve gone through now, which has been a month of time with actors as well as a lot of time looking at the work. It seemed that if I couldn’t give answers at that point then I was demonstrating that the play wasn’t working, I also found it hard to find someone who would give it the time it needed. I would have a meeting with a literary manager or director and they would say ‘I’m afraid I’ve only had time to have a quick read, but this is what I think…’ They didn’t say ‘this is wrong,’ but the way they approached me was hostile towards the play, and me; in some cases I wasn’t being seen as a theatre maker but as a kind of beginner writer who needed to be told how to do it, or as a spoken word performer who should stick to that and devising.

Stephanie Greer, photo by Eileen Long

Stephanie Greer, photo by Eileen Long

DL: If you ever read a play properly it should take half a day minimum…I can spend 5-6 hours on a script, or a whole day, and only then do I feel confident enough to talk to the writer about it. If I don’t go in understanding it as best as I can then I’m no use to them, I can go in with questions, but in order to see it on the play’s term and the writer’s terms, you need to read it at least three times.

HS: Yes, so you came into our meeting having read it three times, with three sets of notes after each reading. And that was different to how anyone else had approached the work. I’ve been thinking about this, and partly it’s because David is great and would do that for anyone, but also I was paying him for his time myself, whereas everyone else I’d met, it was usually their job of course to meet writers, but I felt because I had said to David ‘I want to work with you and I will pay you for your time,’ that then I really got the time.

Asking and paying someone to work with you is very different to the feeling of being a lowly writer going to a theatre for that meeting. David’s approach to the play was entirely different and restored my faith in it, and everything that he said about it, in that first meeting was just such a relief…that’s what I thought I’d done! Thank you! And his response was the opposite of the other responses I’d had. It looks weird on the page, and others had said, it’s just poetry, there’s no characters, there’s no emotion it’s just clever…but David saw the emotion in it, on the page, it’s very hard to see that and hard to read a play that doesn’t look like a play. And that’s not really a criticism of those readers, because I find it very difficult as well, it is really difficult to read a play that is not written for the page. So many plays are written for readers who know how to read a play and know what they think it should look like, but there’s a big difference between writing a play for the page and writing for the stage.

DL: Just as an industry perspective –often, script reading is one of the first jobs you get in a theatre, and I think that’s really problematic, if it’s one of the first jobs you get, what are you bringing to that process? If I’d read Hannah’s play when I was a script reader at twenty-two, I probably would have said the same things, but reading at at thirty-three after eleven years of writing my own stuff and working as a dramaturg as well, I knew what its theatrical potential could be, and that’s what you should be looking for…if it works on page that’s fine I’ll go away and read it, but how is it going to work in space and time with actors? So after we had that meeting Hannah said, I’ve got some money to do two weeks R&D at Beaford.

HS: I applied for money for the whole thing, first I got development money from Jerwood and I used that to apply to the Arts Council …because I had realised, no one’s going to accept this, no one’s going to produce it, I really want to do it, I’ve got to do it myself, direct it myself, and I’m going to get the money. And that’s actually a brilliant position to be in as writer and director, I can choose who I work with and can do the project on my own terms. Basically that involved three weeks development, two weeks at Beaford arts and one at CPT….Then we’ve gone quite quickly into this production, since last week. It’s a very empowering thing for writers to have some kind of control over your own process….because I’ve done quite a bit of work in theatre and performance, and studied directing, I’ve got some of those tools that a lot of writers are nervous about, but it’s very important to find a way to see your work and not just write play after play after play that doesn’t get produced.

'The Disappearance of Sadie Jones'

DL: So we met up, Hannah said, I’ll pay you to come in for first day and a half. In our first meeting I asked open questions – what does success look like at the end of R&D? What images do you have in your head about how we work on it? What does the room look like? And through those open questions I devised a process that would make the dramaturgy of the play visible, in the room. That’s what this stuff around us on the walls is – making the dramaturgy visible.

Because part of our concern was that all of those things Hannah has described about literary managers, script readers, the things that I’ve talked about in terms of having quite a narrow conception of what a play is….might we have performers in the room who are also having those struggles, those fears? So one of the first things we did was ask the actors to write on post it notes what they were most frightened about and excited about, and there were a lot of things ‘what if I don’t get the play?’ ‘what if I don’t understand the characters?’ ‘what if I don’t get how Hannah’s work is meant to work?’.

So we got rid of all of that at the very first stage and found ourselves on an even keel, all five of us sitting around the room going ‘we need to work out how this play operates and what its universe, world is so we can discover a common language and vocabulary’, that’s what we wanted….a way of talking about the work, because talking about ‘story’ or ‘plot’ wasn’t going to work, that’s not what drives the play. The play is driven by experience, image, memory, gesture, musicality, poetry, dreamscapes, those are not  ‘plot’, in the way that we think about cause and effect, linear plot…so we did a couple of processes…we had a read through but what we asked the actors to do after they read was to respond on paper, and brilliantly, they nearly all drew pictures, that says a lot about the play, the things that resonates are images rather than words…

'The Disappearance of Sadie Jones'

We wanted to know what the play meant to the actors in room, what did they think they were making, all of those things were consolidated into this…I made a record of what the five of us agreed….skeletons and outlines, clocks and circles, a sequence of progression rather than a plot, we see things from different perspectives, it’s a play about someone’s insides…This was just the first day, trying to work out what everyone in that room agreed on about the play, what was contained in the play.

The other thing we did was we tasked everyone in the room with breaking the play down into movements or phases, where did they feel there was a shift between one thing and another? Just to see what they thought was organising the play…We got back together and my job was to navigate these perspectives into a common consensus on how we moved from one place to another, we ended up with a working understanding of the play’s composition….I took that away over night and drew the play on a page, so this is something I’ll do with my own writing…map the play out, so you can see…we ended up with four movements, which were broken down…We had 17 sequences of something in the play…it enabled us to understand the play’s structure collectively, to make it visible, available to everyone in room…that was what I did on first day, find a way of helping the company access the play and its construction.

I’ve only discovered today that this was then produced….Taking the principle of mapping the company did this…it’s very long…let’s put it down that way…(unravelled on table) can I put you on the spot Lizzie…could you tell us what this is….

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Lizzie Crarer (actor): It’s funny looking at this now as it’s actually quite sparse, we did it again at the beginning of last week and it’s much more detailed…So basically it started to become clear that there was some linear narrative, a real time real life sequence of events that happened to these people….which as performers we needed to know as well…On one level you need to know who these people are and what they are doing so that you can then see what the strange associations between things are…so I think this side is what’s going on in the imagination and the upper side is what we worked out what had actually happened to the characters..

DL: One of the definitions I read at the beginning is appropriate: ‘the dramaturg is facilitator of dramaturgical thinking’ – that thinking was applied again at the end of the process, in my absence. Looking at this now it occurred to me that the play has an associative structure: what I mean by that is you have moments that brush against one another….you are required to make associations between a gesture in minute twelve that comes back in minute sixty seven…an object, a line, relates…you are moving through a world picking up on connections, associations, lines, phrases…something Hannah is very insistent about is that it is OK for an audience to come out with different understandings of the play they have just seen, and that they are experiencing something, not just watching something…

I suppose I will say a couple of things that have happened over the time from starting at Beaford to going into production and working as a ‘floor dramaturg’ in the last two weeks. I’m also interested to hear from Lizzie and Stephanie too about their experiences as actors…but certainly, a couple of key changes occurred through having an outside eye coming back into process….There are a few moments of narration in the play, it’s a tiny tiny thing, but I felt that the audience needed this narration in the past tense rather than present: it’s a common thing to create an off-stage world for the audience, but you have to be very careful about how you position it in space and time in our imaginations, because if you get it wrong we get totally confused and we lose it. I was insistent about the audience being able to position this off-stage world which was being revisited….but the narration of what we were watching was delivered in the present tense. So we switched it and those moments transformed…

I suppose those interventions have been co-directorial but also keeping a close eye on the text, and saying to Hannah, I really think we need this bit of text lifted up as it’s an anchor for the audience, it’s a moment when we are going to make those synapse connections….thinking about gesture on stage…allowing the audience to map the play in the same way we did at Beaford. We need to go into that space and to come out feeling that we can map that experience, going ‘I’ve got a map of that play’ and it means this: those maps might be different person to person, but that doesn’t matter. Is that fair?

HS: Well I think personally I don’t need people to be able to map the play, I think that would be quite hard actually, on a first viewing, but I want them to be able to feel it, and to come out feeling that something has changed in the gut…and then when they remember the play to remember that sense of being in a particular place in a particular atmosphere and what it felt like…

DL: I suppose maybe mapping doesn’t necessarily mean tying down narrative. I suppose by mapping I mean that you come out having been able to connect things, and, having been given that opportunity – perhaps through us identifying those anchors, those associations, and putting them more at the forefront of the production language – we are therefore able to feel more deeply those emotions you want us to be feeling.

HS: Yes, and it could be making connections between events happening on stage or between what you’ve experienced yourself or seen yourself and connecting that with what’s on stage. I love seeing work that enables me to write as a viewer….When I used to watch a lot of dance work, it was as if streams of text were coming out of my head provoked by the relationships I was seeing on stage, and for me it was telling me lots about what it is to be human. I think if something you are seeing triggers or tells you something about how you feel or resonates…that’s exciting…

I think everyone has a different mind, a different way of thinking; ‘mapping’ could be the way a lot of people think, but other people don’t…I was going to say, something to mention is that I didn’t understand the play either, it wasn’t that I understood it and no one else got it , it was that I liked it, but I didn’t really understand it and it has taken me a long time to get to the understanding of it that I’ve got now, now I feel confident and clear about what it is. I think I knew all of that intuitively, I had it in me, but it took quite a long time to piece things together, and when we got there it was very exciting, because that’s the process of constructing meaning and understanding, which is  the same process which happens when you watch work. Because I wrote it from an emotional place… I had this thing, I liked it, I didn’t want to re-write it to make it make sense, I wanted to understand what I had written and it did go through different drafts, but not the kind of drafts we are told to write, not drafts imposed by an outside idea of what a play is, but drafts that helped the play become what it was.

DL: One more thing about structure….I don’t think dramaturgs or dramaturgy necessarily holds the elixir of amazing theatre: it’s theatre, it happens all the time anyway, there are many directors brilliant at dramaturgy, it’s part of what they do.

glasses

There’s something about form I wanted to demonstrate with three [different shaped] glasses. Say you’ve go a certain amount of content in a play, and that’s the amount of content there….. I can put that same content in this glass here or this glass here or this glass here, but each of those containers will tell you a completely different story about what that content means…there are different associations with each shape. Something that I’m really interested in with plays is looking at expressive structure: structure is not a stiff thing you hook content onto but it is active, it does something, forming the structure of play is part of how meaning is constructed. Caryl Churchill is fantastic at doing this, the shape of her plays, the form of her plays, is part of what they mean, it’s not just that those plays are in three acts, boom, done…

Something that Hannah does with The Disappearance of Sadie Jones is that structurally it’s incredibly sophisticated, because the shape of the play expresses….to me it’s the closest thing to that ‘Picasso play’ that I’ve read. It expresses an emotional experience and uses different shapes to do that.

LC: You were asking about the experience for the performer….the word ‘mid wife’ came to mind, the dramaturg’s role is like delivering a baby, certainly that initial few days in Beaford, it’s interested being reminded about it because I think it set the tone for the way in which we were to approach play, which was establishing an attitude of openness, inquisitiveness, curiosity…which I think is something that Hannah is excellent at doing, which is being very objective, ruthlessly objective of your own work…but I think it’s really good to include performers in that and having a dramaturg in the room opens up that dialogue and it’s a really great starting point, and then again last week and this week, it’s been really helpful to have someone who is not the director, not the producer, but an objective third party to come in and ask helpful questions which you can get lost in when you’ve got into your own process…we’ve created this world, we’ve gone into it, it makes total sense to us now! Well not total sense…but we’ve built a kind of logic and it’s really useful to have someone say.…have you thought about this?

DL: Watching you do a run through on Tuesday, you could see how the physical, vocal, spatial language had absorbed this structural understanding…it was amazing to watch actually, before the lights or sound or props were in the mix the performers’ bodies and voices were moving us between worlds, moving us between dimensions in the play: that was amazing, you found a way to move between these sequences just by being performers in the space.

Stephanie Greer (actor): For me it was a bit different because I wasn’t in Beaford or at CPT so it feels like I’ve been involved in this for a while but actually that’s not true…it’s for two weeks…but I was really glad that we had someone come in…I think if you have a writer who is also director….I think Hannah is the best person to direct this piece, but equally Hannah knows everything about this more than anyone else and actually it was really good for someone to come in and be really clear about what is going on, so he’d be like, OK, the audience don’t need to know what that is but there is clarity, whatever that may be, for us…I don’t know whether my lack of knowledge of what happened at Beaford was useful for the process, but it was great to have someone else who hadn’t been in every single day of the process to share that with.

DL: Julian Meyrick said you can only experience a play or script fresh once, everything after that is decay: and it’s the hardest job as writer, director, actor, to revisit and keep fresh that first impression of what you are watching, and that’s the role that I had to take into the room, I needed to imagine I’m watching this as an audience member for the first time….again…so coming in and out of the process with a month and then 3 weeks then 4 days between watching it helped me to do that, helped me to come back to it and watch the broad sweep of the piece and pick out those moments where I didn’t understand something or catch something, or something could be accentuated…trying to think like an audience member….

'The Disappearance of Sadie Jones'

So we’ve got twenty-five minutes for questions or comments….

Question from floor: I just wondered what process you went through to select performers, because that must be very important…what was their understanding about what they were about to do?

HS: I was crazy lucky, I still can’t believe my luck with this team. I did this massive audition about a year ago, and I just put out a call myself, I didn’t go through agents, or casting directors or anything, just a call on the Arts Council Jobs website and Ideas Tap, and I got hundreds of applications, and I didn’t know how to choose, who to invite to audition, it was really hard, I’m sure there was something a bit random about it.  The audition was really about getting the actors to play with the text, I didn’t really tell them anything about the text, I didn’t know how to talk about it at that stage yet either, but I do think it was useful to run workshop auditions where people were working together and experimenting with the text and I think …well Lizzie just came in and she was Kim, one of the characters, which was amazing, but also I knew that Lizzie ‘got’ the play.

Of course actors will always say ‘I really love the play’ if they want the part, but I saw that Lizzie honestly did really love it, or get it, and because so few people had ‘got’ it, on the page, that was very important, and I just loved what she did. And I had another actor (Kathryn O’Reilly) already on board…turned out she played Sadie during our development process, but Stephanie was in the same audition with Lizzie, so when I was looking back over audition tapes, when Kathryn wasn’t able to go forwards with the production…there was just something about how Stephanie tasted the words, something about how she approached the language, that made me think – yeah I think we’ll work really well, I think this will be great, and it was such a good decision. Stephanie has only been here for two weeks, and she came to the first day of last week having learned all her lines…the entire play, it was astonishing.

LC: And it was the hardest text I’ve ever had to learn.

HS: She just knew it! Alan was in that same audition, and it is kind of interesting that I’ve ended up with three actors who were all in the same audition and worked together… I’ve got a team who are all really nice people to work with which is partly who you choose, you bring people in you get on with but also about making sure the process from the beginning is open…and it had to be…and in a way I was quite vulnerable, being the director, because I also didn’t know what it was…I was there saying ‘I don’t know’, I don’t quite know how to work on this, I would get up in the morning and be running the day but not really with any idea of how it was going to go, and I’ve never experienced that before, I found it exciting not to know what I was doing and because I’m lucky to have such generous people in the room, we’ve discovered how to do it over the process…so now I feel very confident with it, but I do think if you know exactly what you’re doing…if you know what you’re going to write before you write it, if you know how you’re going to write it, if you know what it is when you’ve written it and you know exactly how to direct it then what’s the point? Then you haven’t done anything new.

SG: I think it’s worth saying as well that if you direct your own work then you do have the choice of who you work with.  I found it really strange actually how little directors and theatres care about who the writer wants in the play, so you can have worked with a writer in development of the script, and they will be saying to the director ‘please see this person for this role’ and the director will say OK yeah fine, and not do that and not go with them…the writer can then feel they’ve got no control over their work.

Question from floor: I want to ask about the process of the performing, so you got this piece of paper and you wanted to know what actual action is happening to this person in the real world…and then there was the imaginative world, and you had these parallel lines running…and I wanted to ask whether you as a writer, were surprised about anything your actors found….and was it a journey you yourself had made prior to trying out….?

HS I had done it but not in such a clear way, I had an idea going into the meeting with David that this is a linear thing over forty eight hours but it wasn’t completely filled in and I enjoyed doing that with the actors…I think what surprises me and what I don’t do is back story…what had happened before this play starts, and definitely when I talked to Stephanie, she was talking about how Sadie grew up, and what her mother was like, and what she’d experienced in childhood and how she’d adapted to that, all of these things we hadn’t really talked about but it all rings true. That’s something that I don’t tend to think about so much.

LC: It’s a two way thing, because as an actor you want to know who this person is, and that’s prejudice too, about character being primary…so actually there’s a lot we have to chuck out to meet you in this work, and work out a different way…a way that is more akin to music…and sometimes this play is just a musical  score…it feels like that..

HS: It goes though various stages, I think we got to a stage where actors were asking a lot of questions like ‘why am I doing this?’ ‘Where am I?’…And I couldn’t really answer because…well, you’re in the imagination or, it’s kind of a dream and it doesn’t make sense and there isn’t logic in this place… and I felt we were getting trapped, and I think it was Kathryn who said ‘you’re the director, what do you want?’ And I went away and came back and said ‘I want us to treat this like a piece of music’ and that was very helpful, for a while. We went through a logical process of what’s going on stage, then a musical stage, then we looked at the body, physicality…to see what that does to meaning and that in a way moved us towards and away from the play.

Where we are now I think has taken elements of all of that but I wouldn’t say now that we are treating the play as a piece of music because I think what I’ve discovered is that if you do that, without a sense of character and emotional journey, that’s when it becomes what people were telling me it was. I think the musical parts should be communicating something about the inner world of the characters or emotion in this particular play, so it’s been a weird layering up of processes, and now those layers have brought us here.

DL: The director Katie Mitchell has a process she talks about in her book, On Directing, where she sits down with a play and goes through it scene by scene or unit by unit and asks, what are the things that are facts that I can pull out and what questions, or impressions have I got, and I think that’s something I did…What are the things I feel are facts, what are impressions…the reason I do that…the audience goes into the theatre with very little, the title, maybe a strapline, the blurb, everything after that is accumulation, you are accumulating knowledge so dramaturgically that role of going in and watching over and over is abut wiping the slate clean and starting from nothing…again…and what’s building up, section by section…this is what I mean by mapping in the brain…you’re accumulating and all that time trying to make sense of accumulation…which things are sitting up, where are the anchors, the moments when I go ‘I get that’…where are those moments through the play, if we hit those, the bits in between can cope with being multiple in their meaning, and undefined.
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The Disappearance of Sadie Jones is on at the Bike Shed Theatre in Exeter until 20th April. It will tour in the Autumn.

David Lane is a playwright and freelance dramaturg based in Bristol. He is regularly working with the Egg in Bath, Half Moon Young People’s Theatre, Goldsmiths College in London and as a workshop leader with Bristol Old Vic. He has been commissioned to write and adapt for young companies at Theatre Royal Plymouth and Salisbury Playhouse and for rural touring with Forest Forge. He has written articles on dramaturgy in the journal Studies in Theatre and Performance; his book Contemporary British Drama was published by Edinburgh university Press in 2010 and a feature on playwright Jim Cartwright is included in Modern British Playwriting: The Eighties by Methuen Drama. He is convenor of Final Projects on the MA Writing for Performance at Goldsmiths College and has taught modules in dramaturgy, playwriting and text and performance at Exeter University, City University, Brunel and Sussex. He is also part-time coordinator of Theatre Writing South West, which has been supporting and developing new writing in the region since 2004.

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April 17, 2013 · 10:53 am

Playwriting and Dramaturgy

A couple of nights ago David Lane held a session at the Bike Shed theatre on dramaturgy and on how he worked with us on ‘The Disappearance of Sadie Jones’. I recorded the event and will post material from it here soon, but for now, here are my thoughts on the topic.

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‘The Disappearance of Sadie Jones’ photo (and lighting) by Gary Bowman

I was introduced to the idea of dramaturgy and the role of the dramaturg while making performance in Amsterdam ten years ago. I’ve started thinking about the dramaturg as a kind of guardian of meaning. A dramaturg ‘reads’ a performance and makes associations, connections, constructs narrative, identifies what drives the work and how the world it conjures up functions. There are various definitions of ‘dramaturg’ – different in different countries and disciplines, but basically the etymology of the word sums it up: drama = action, aergon= rules/workings. Dramaturgy = how the action works.

David Lane’s role as dramaturg on this project had three parts, the first, to help get a handle on the script before rehearsals, the second, to plan ways of mapping out and getting a handle on the script, the world, the characters at the beginning of our development process with actors and the creative team, and the third, to watch run throughs/rehearsals and to help keep what was happening on stage on track with what we wanted to communicate. David helped us to uncover the meanings that were under the surface of the play, and then once we’d discovered them, he helped us to keep them visible.

Stephanie Greer, photo by Eileen & Chris Long

Stephanie Greer, photo by Eileen & Chris Long

It was hard for me to maintain the kind of distance needed from the work. At some stages in the process I was just so delighted by what the actors were doing that I didn’t realise what we were losing. It took me a while (years) to uncover what I already knew about the work …I didn’t know it consciously.

I invited David Lane to be the dramaturg on this project because he read the script on its own terms. He saw it as something that he didn’t understand, but rather than being put off by that he wanted to know more about it and look closer. It’s the kind of play that needs to be read several times, which takes a good few hours. That doesn’t mean it needs to be seen many times, but it’s not written for the page, and although many people will say that of course all plays are written for performance…I disagree.

There are various development processes out there, ways of working, unwritten rules, structures and  hierarchies that somehow impede on what and how a writer writes. It’s quite unusual to be able to devise your own process. I needed to find our own way of developing this piece because it’s not a play that will work in a read through, a rehearsed reading, a three week rehearsal process, it’s not easy to discover how to work with this play, how to re-write it, how to direct and act it, or what it means. That’s why we’ve learned so much along the way.

I wrote a play that I didn’t understand. This is probably the biggest reason I needed David’s help. I didn’t understand the play, but I loved it. Every time I read it, it did something to me. But I had no distance from it at all. I was beginning to worry that the feedback I had received might be true. I thought it was an emotional play, I thought the characters had emotional journeys, it certainly affected me emotionally, and knew I’d written it right from the gut, but on the page people were just seeing it as poetic, literary, clever….(heavy criticism in this country).

photo: Eileen & Chris Long

photo: Eileen & Chris Long

I didn’t understand the play because I didn’t plan it at all. I didn’t think about theme or character or structure before writing it. I had read plenty of ‘how to write a play’ books, but found that going into writing with all of that in mind just stunted my ability to write. I would bore myself before I got to ten pages. If I’m planning out what I’m going to write in advance, then it’s going to be predictable and unoriginal. I don’t think well with that part of my brain. But when I let my unconscious take over I was able to write something more complex and emotionally ‘true’ than anything I could have planned.

I wrote ‘The Disappearance of Sadie Jones’ as a stream of consciousness. I wrote it from an emotional, physical impulse. I wrote it in one go, and then spent the next three years trying to figure out what it was. It was a protest play. A protest against the plays I was seeing, against the voices in my head telling me how I should be writing, against a realisation that no one was going to produce my work anyway so I may as well write whatever the hell I wanted. It was drawn from my own unconscious and emotional experiences – I’m only realising to what extent now I’m seeing it in front of an audience.

Often a writer writes a play, and then the dramaturg or whoever, takes them through a process of ‘development’ which helps them to find out what it’s really about, and then armed with this knowledge the playwright returns to the work and makes it more coherent, makes it fit a structure  that everyone ‘gets’, makes it work on the page. We didn’t do that with this play.

That isn’t to say I didn’t do any re-writing, one of the first things I did was get rid of the large chorus of tall thin people…. But I didn’t start adjusting things with the aim of clarifying meaning until we’d spent a month rehearsing/exploring the work in performance. David describes the later changes as ‘anchors’ – little clues that will help the audience construct their own narratives and images in response to the work. We cut two pages yesterday during our tech when the fact that it wasn’t right to have a light change at a certain point made me realise that it wasn’t right to have that section at all.

Now I know what the play is about, I can talk about the characters, the back stories, the emotional journeys, what I want the audience experience to be etc etc. I couldn’t do any of that until now. It’s taken three years and over a month of work on the play with a team to get here. We’ve got here through trusting that what I wrote had all that in it, just in a way we weren’t accustomed to.

I have had the opportunity to choose who I work with, and to put together a team that was keen to go on a journey of figuring out with me, figuring out how to talk about the work, figuring out how to perform it, direct it, design it. This process was a layering that involved David Lane’s kind of mappings, my kind of musical approach, Amit Lahav’s kind of choreographic and emotional approach, and then a return to the script and a re-layering of our process in a way that served the play. To be able to go on a journey that includes many moments of not-knowing, and to be able to continually renew the way in which we worked was a privilege.  This process has made it possible to do something that I believe can be described as ‘new’.

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The Disappearance Residency at the Bike Shed Theatre 10-20th April

Disappearance
Join Hannah Silva and company for poetry, debate, discussion and the premiere of a new piece of theatre ‘The Disappearance of Sadie Jones’.

“Silva uses techniques like cut-up and collage, sound poetry and physical theatre to create something that’s unique but nods to older forms like shamanism, pre-religious ceremonies, Dadaism and the kind of games that children play with language.” Radio 3, The Verb

APRIL 10-20th:

10th 7:30pm: Words Words Words: Poetry in performance with Hannah Silva, Jack Dean, Clive Pig and Jane Slavin

11th 7:30pm: Pressing an Ear against a Hive: David Lane discusses the role of the dramaturg and reveals the working process behind ‘The Disappearance of Sadie Jones’

12th 7:30pm: View a rough and (hopefully) ready run of The Disappearance of Sadie Jones followed by a wide ranging discussion on the joys, trials and tribulations of making theatre.

13th & 16th 7:30pm: The Disappearance of Sadie Jones (work in progress)

17th & 18th 7:30pm: The Disappearance of Sadie Jones (previews)

19th 7:30pm: The Disappearance of Sadie Jones

20th: 2pm and 7:30pm: The Disappearance of Sadie Jones

Tickets £5-£10: 01392 434169
The Bike Shed Theatre, 162 Fore Street, Exeter, EX4 3AT
www.bikeshedtheatre.co.uk

…..
The Disappearance Team:

Writer & Director: Hannah Silva
Actors: Stephanie Greer, Alan Humphreys, Lizzie Crarer
Designer: Fiona Chivers
Light: Gary Bowman
Dramaturg: David Lane
Associate Producer: Milan Govedarica
Supporters: Jerwood Charitable Foundation and the Arts Council

Developed through residencies at Beaford Arts, CPT and the Bike Shed

 

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Working on Hunger

Hunger -  Text versions2

image by Helga Fannon

I’m working on Hunger at Beaford Arts in North Devon, with three actors: Alan Humphreys, Lizzie Crarer and Kathryn O’Reilly. We’ve also been visited by dramaturg David Lane and designer Fiona Chivers. We work 10-6pm and in the evenings we cook and eat together. Like those theatre companies in the sixties – except that this is just for two weeks.

Last night, over dinner, we discussed what we would do if we knew we were going to die very soon. One of the actors, Lizzie, said she would write and direct her own play, the play that she really wants to write. Which was strange to hear as that’s what I’m doing.

How far can you go
inside yourself?
No one no one no one knows.
I know.
No one sees this skin.
Underneath.
No one comes with you
this far.
Until the bottom of the world
falls away.
As if you were never attached
to anything.
And you
And you

Hunger is a difficult play, on the page. As a piece of theatre it’s also difficult, but in a different way. I want Hunger to be difficult…and  entertaining. The ‘difficult’ aspect of the play is that the audience won’t get fed the story, the facts need putting back together by the viewer….or not…but the emotional journey should be coherent.

Part of the process of making meaning needs to happen in the minds of those watching. It should be an instinctive, imaginative, non-verbal kind of understanding. I want people to walk out of the theatre arguing over what the play means and what exactly happened to Sadie Jones – and I want them each to defend their own version of events.

What I have loved most about the work so far is that I have never felt, or pretended, that I know what I am doing. I’ve never thought I have the answers about the work, or that I know the right way to work on the play. And I have loved the fact that no one else involved in making the work has come to it with any preconceived notions of how to make theatre….how to put on a play….how to deal with this play. This is the first time in my experience of making theatre that I have not thought that I know what I am doing. Happily, it’s also the first time I’ve surrounded myself with others who also don’t know how to do this.

hunger6

We’re here to figure out how to work on the play. To figure out what it might mean, what the characters are like, what the layers of reality and dream and imagination are….we are treating the play as an object to be examined and played with. Not an object to be re-written. It’s not about re-writing the play until it fits a particular explanation, it’s about finding a way of working and a way of performing that suits the words, the ideas, the emotion, the characters, the actors.

We were getting stuck with questions about where and who and why and what exactly and intentions and… Kathryn asked me what I wanted. ‘You’re the director. What do you want?’ So after lunch I showed them my homework. It was called ‘what Hannah wants’. The first, main thing I want is to treat the play as a piece of music. Before lunch, I had said that a particular section needed to come down in energy, because we needed a contrast from the previous part, and Kathryn has (rightly) said that wasn’t a good reason to do something. But thinking about the work as music I realised that if there is a musical, rhythmical, tonal reason for something, then that is enough. The other reasons will reveal themselves as we go.

whathannahwants

I couldn’t do what we’re doing now on my own….but I also couldn’t have written this play with others…and I couldn’t have started from what we are doing now and then written the play ….the play is way too complex for me to have written it consciously…to have planned it….I think what it has all the way through, because of the way in which I wrote it….is emotional truth….and from there everything else we need can be uncovered.

Hunger tries to get to the heart of us….inside us….tries to write from our imaginations, our bodies, our insides. The characters are real and have daily lives and pasts …but what I wanted to write is everything that is invisible, illogical, incoherent, fleshy, bones…I want to find the words that are written on our skeletons…the words that we hear in our dreams…the meanings, stories, explanations that we give ourselves about who we are but that we can never share with anyone. And the terror of blurred lines between reality and imagination, between dream and consciousness…self destruction, and control, and the desire to …leave everything.

What we are doing in the rehearsal room at Beaford Arts is what Danny and Kim are doing in the kitchen in the play…they are trying to understand what happened to Sadie….and what they are doing is also what the audience will do as they watch. We’re all trying to understand each other…we’re all trying.

Who wants a bite?
‘Six for a pound’
Come on. Bite me. I’m yummy.

appleseaten

[See an early version of Hunger at Camden Peoples’ Theatre 11th January 5pm]

Hunger is supported by the Jerwood Charitable Foundation and using public funding from the Arts Council England.

- written & directed by Hannah Silva

Cast: Kathryn O’Reilly, Elizabeth Crarer, Alan Humphreys

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Leaving Plymouth for a little while…

‘It’s bad luck to have flowers on board a boat. I’m going to have to come down and punch you on the nose-  it’s the only way to reverse the curse…’ [Boat on the water 2009, Stonehouse Plymouth - with Alice Tatton-Brown and Chloe Langford]

Just to let you know….

I’m going to Nottingham tomorrow to be involved in a project called ‘Park in Progress’ - World Event Young Artists.’1000 artists 10 nations 10 days’ (yay I qualify for a ‘young’ scheme)

And then I’m moving to London. I’ll be living pretty near the Olympic Stadium in the East. I’ve never lived in London before. Looking forward to be able to perform at events I’ve had to turn down in the past because of travel costs, going to poetry events and plays and theatre and workshops and better second hand shops….First workshop I’m doing is on Greek Tragedy with Tamasha.

Starting next week I’m ‘playwright in residence’ at the Lady Eleanor Holles School. So my first job is to find out what teenage girls want to make theatre about.

Last chance to see Opposition in the South West on the 18th & 19th October at the Brewhouse Theatre Taunton

First London run of Opposition : at the Ovalhouse - 6-17th November. It took me over a year to get a London venue, and I still love the work as much as when I first made it. So I’ve got a couple of months to try and make my knees work/find appropriate pain killers.

Then a week in Suffolk at Aldeburgh Music to try out ideas for a new opera ‘Thanatophobia’ with the composer Joanna Lee

And I start work on Jerwood supported project ‘Hunger’ back in Devon with a residency at Beaford Arts in December, with dramaturg David Lane, actors Kathryn O’ Reilly, Alan Humphreys and Lizzie Crarer and designer Fiona Chivers. I started writing Hunger three years ago, so excited it’s finally happening, and that I’ve got such a strong team of collaborators to work with.

More soon…

p.s I wrote the first of three columns for Exeunt Magazine: Crisis of Naturalism

- and also, check out this brilliant new resource set up by Sophie Mayer and her students : ‘I don’t call myself a poet’ - Interviews with Contemporary Poets Living and Working in Britain

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Introducing ‘Hunger’

Hunger

“I was immediately drawn in. There is intriguing word-play from the get-go and a sense that something intelligent and solid is underneath all the strangeness. I liked that it was hard to pin down, this kept me reading. It breaks form, eschews reality and feels ambitious and dangerous.” Out of Joint reader report

 “When I first read Hunger I was struck by one simple fact: I had never read a play like this before. Not only is it pushing at the edges of what new writing can be, it is pushing at the edges of how a script operates within the theatre-making process. The piece clearly displays one of the most theatre-literate writers I have come across; whilst it engages with a depth of human experience it is also determined in its dramaturgy to communicate that experience through non-literal means – in particular an arresting combination of tone, rhythm, sound, shape, and lateral and associative language.” David Lane, dramaturg and playwright.

Hunger is a play for three characters: Sadie Jones, Danny (her lover), and Kim, her sister.

Hunger portrays the world of Sadie Jones, who wants to disappear. Speech is composed like music; layered words transport us into the chaos of Sadie’s imagination. Hunger crashes between the surrealism of the subconscious and the terrifying emptiness of reality.

Hunger asks what it is not to die, not to run away, but to become absent in your own life. Hunger comes from an urge to write about the invisible drama that happens behind our surface lives – about insomnia, depression, obsessions and all consuming love, about dreams that are more real than reality, and about loving someone intent on self-destruction. The impulse that drives Hunger is a need to use language and image to communicate an almost indescribable physical and emotional response to living.

Sadie Jones wants to negate her body. She has an image of something impaling her, right through her centre. This image takes the pain away. She’s stopped eating, her body is disappearing but she is hungry, for love, for communication…she doesn’t know what for…Because she is loved – and it is partly this intensity that she is trying to escape. Her sister and lover need her so much that she is losing herself.

The text slips between reality and the imagination, between linguistic experimentation, composed speech, poetry and naturalism. Language can be dangerous, not just the meaning, but the sound as well. Inside Sadie Jones is a chaos of words, and outside is silence. It’s a terrifying contrast. This linguistic and sound based approach drives narrative and reveals character in unusual ways.

***

The play can be performed by three women or by two women and one man. My general principle with writing is that I don’t specify what characters look like, I want the roles to be open to all actors (the only restriction with this piece is playing age). With the character of ‘Danny’ gender is also open. There is something both female and male within the core of the character.

I write similarly to how a composer scores music; speeches overlap, a soundtrack might interweave with the dialogue. At times the play requires specific performance and vocal techniques. I have developed these techniques through my performance practice and my background in contemporary music.

Through managing and directing the development part of this project myself I have the opportunity to explore approaches to staging the work with the actors, dramaturg and designer, and the chance to really explore the vocal techniques it requires, possible physicality of the roles, ways of working with image and subtext and the emotional journeys of characters. I already know that the play works great in performance - A-level students did an extract brilliantly a couple of years ago, but it has been rejected by every ‘new writing’ theatre I have sent it to (perhaps that’s not its USP!), so after a while I decided that I must see the work in performance…. I can’t just keep writing one play after another. So this is another way of submitting my ‘plays’ to theatres. Let’s see what happens.

Support from the Jerwood Charitable Foundation means that I can start the process of making this work happen myself. The initial development process will be with actors, a designer (Fiona Chivers) and a dramaturg (David Lane) – and I might get one of those ‘embedded critics’ involved too. Jerwood has already had a big impact on my career and my writing. As well as the incredible support with this play I have benefitted from the Arvon Jerwood mentoring scheme (as a playwright), the Aldeburgh Jerwood Opera Writing Foundation scheme, and currently, an Aldeburgh Jerwood Opera Writing Fellowship (to write an opera with composer Joanna Lee). So I’m a fan. The development schemes they support are brilliant, have impacted my practice and have led to professional writing work. – Next week I’ll be at the BBC for the recording of a radio play I co-wrote with my mentor from the Jerwood Arvon scheme Colin Teevan (it’ll be on Radio 3 in August). Thanks to the opera scheme, as well as having the opportunity to develop a long work together through a fellowship, Joanna Lee and I have collaborated on several short projects (for the Aldeburgh Music Club, and currently as part of Jo’s ‘Apprentice composer in residence’ position with BCMG) – and I’ve discovered that I love libretto writing and working with composers – something I want to keep doing and exploring…

Managing this project on my own comes with disadvantages – with this recent ‘call for actors’ I’m going to have to turn a lot of people down – and if applications keep coming in at this rate that’s going to be a lot of disappointed vibes heading my way. (It’s so hard!!) At some point I’ll have to put together contracts, I have to keep re-jigging the budget as it tightens (don’t worry, actors will be paid) – and I have to try and make this happen without the direct support of a theatre or a producer. –  At this stage at least. And I’m still trying to find suitable rehearsal space for the work. Obviously part of the reasoning behind doing ‘showings’ at the end of the development process is to introduce venues and producers to my work and to generate interest and support for the tour and production of ‘Hunger’.

So there has already been the occasional tearful night (just one, actually), but I’m so excited about this project, excited to be receiving applications to work with me on it from amazing performers, excited to start getting feedback from actors on the script, incredibly excited about the prospect of transferring this creation I’ve been crafting in my imagination to the space. (calm down dear – no, wrong show)

Hunger’s development process is supported by the Jerwood Charitable Foundation.

 

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