CRINGE. That was my word but I didn’t say it when the microphone had made its way to me around the circle at the conclusion of the three day Devoted and Disgruntled conference. The concept of this open-space forum is fantastic and I do believe is can be a positive and constructive exercise… but there’s something about the earnestness and naivety with which SOME artists speak about themselves and their work that makes me want to commit a violent act. As a means of concluding the three days of conversation and debate, the convenor of the conference (from Improbable Theatre) asked everyone to say one word into the microphone. Given that there must have been almost 80 people there (reduced from probably closer to 200 on the first day) this took some time.
OPEN. INSPIRATION. THANK YOU. NOW. And on it went.
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| York Hall, Bethnal Green - again! |
The conference was well-structured as a participant-led gathering. Topics for discussion were announced by participants on the first day and then scheduled across three days. People were free to join or leave discussions as they wished so groups would build, or disperse in an organic fashion (no, they were not made of beans). Around the room, posters reminded us of the principles of the conference: Whoever is here are the right people. It took me a while to get around the grammar of that one but its meaning soon became clear. I joined discussions such as “How can we make the process of tour booking easier for artists and companies?”; “It’s not all cheese: why do people look down on Musical Theatre?”. Topics such as “Do you miss your pet Living or Dead?” and “Wildflowers real or metaphorical?”, I gave a wide berth.
Drifting from one group to another was a fun way to sample the prevailing attitudes and interests. Unfortunately I didn’t feel engaged or knowledgeable enough to get really involved in the debates or to convene my own gathering.
It appears that Devoted and Disgruntled unfortunately has a bit of a stigma about it among the broader arts community which is a shame as it has the potential to be a positive and effective way for people to engage across art forms and organisations on equal terms, without horrible name badges. In the last session I was in, I suggested a change of title for the conference (along with a rethink of the bleeding-heart-with-sword-through-it logo) which as a fellow participant rightly said “lacks ambition”. If D&D, which is in its sixth year, want to attract fewer flakes, or at least, more useful people, then I think a bit of an image overhaul is required. [Click here for D&D blog] Meanwhile I’ve been meeting some very interesting, helpful people in various organisations, attending readings and trying to live up to my insane show-going schedule from last year. I was very privileged last week to be given a tour of the Barbican and was introduced to the wonderful, energetic and friendly people who make up the drama department there.
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| This is a Durian |
The Barbican is a fascinating place that reminds me of a durian fruit (alright well then give me another example of something that’s outwardly repulsive but delightful on the inside!). Everyone I spoke to there mentioned how attached they are to the peculiar space with its winding narrow corridors and disorientating stairwells. Following my visit, I returned a few days later to see Flesh and Blood and Fish and Fowl as part of the mime festival. While waiting in the foyer (I’ve perfected the art of attending theatre on my own by now), I was leafing through the newly released February @ the Barbican brochure and two people approached me to where I’d found it, hurrying off to snap up their own copy when I told them. The next day I was speaking to a beautician in Stoke Newington who mentioned sort-of out of the blue that she had been in the same audience (of around 100 people) as me! She went on to say how much of a fan she is of the Barbican for its programming but also as a building to explore and discover. It seems that the Barbican has found and bottled the secret of engaging their audience!
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| This is the Barbican (looks a lot like the UTS Kuring Gai campus) |
And as if that wasn’t enough excitement, Sunday night I spend the evening in the company of Simon Playschool Burke! IronBark is a London-based company that organises readings of Australian plays with an emphasis on the work of playwrights living in the UK. Last night’s offering was Stop. Rewind by Melissa Bubnic, a fantastic playful comedy about office-inflicted misery. The playwright was there – squeezed in amongst the audience – all of whom seemed to know each other in a little room above the Camden Arms. It’s such a great enterprise and I hope it continues.
I’m only sorry I didn’t hear about it sooner as my big adventure in the UK comes to an end in under three weeks! Before then I have a number of great shows to get to – including a return season of Clybourne Park, the first preview of ETT’s Great Expectations, and a road trip to Bath. Hold on to your socks!
