1. Further discussion in pub immediately after performance.
1.1 AA - what is my purity of intention?
1.2 AA - black box comes with lots of baggage ... perhaps a white room installation space would suit it better
1.3 AA - visuals should never be allowed to distract the eye
1.4 je - wow ... that was difficult [studio]. cv - do you think we need a 'get out of jail card'? je - how would that effect the quartet dynamic? Shouldn't the laptops have a button if we don't play anything? cv - No buttons, we just need to develop better strategies for moments when the laptops are 'sulking' ... suggestion is the amplification of breath, of human presence.
1.5 BP - need to develop all elements
1.6 Ambrose Field - what was left in the memory after the performance?
1.7 DC - this sits between cinema and theatre. It has the danger of theatre*. The piece stretches across time: now and then, beginning of journey and lost in the journey. Both reflective and immersive. A theatre of the mind ['patatheatre? ed.]
2. Responses via email to the question "What did you take away with you"
2.1 Angie Atamadjaja: Visual memory of two almost lonely isolated beings on stage, both with full intense concentration at their own personal task and yet there's a quite and hidden communication between them. Quiet white noise that seems to pan in the background of the aural world. Craig talking to a walkie talkie. Sounds of dogs in the wind, for a moment, I felt as if I had been transported to the Antartica. Subtle moving lights, dark line light shapes and shadows of both performers in the first version. The large slow moving projection in the second version.
Is ‘theatre’ something that happens in a black box (ie something additional to the content of the work itself, which somehow is generated by the space/conditions/atmosphere) or is it intrinsic to the content of what is played out in that space?
The work you’ve tended to do in non-theatre space, vs the work you have done in theatre spaces – is there a difference in purpose?
eg you spoke about the work you’ve done for theatre spaces as ‘soundtracks’. Isn’t a soundtrack an accompaniment to other content (eg the play)? A play with sound accompaniment is conventional content for a theatre space and therefore conforms to the expectations/conventions of ‘theatre’ in that space? as opposed to what you’re attempting to do at the moment which is sound as content – which therefore is much harder for an audience to understand in that space, and may not feel like theatre to them? (Ie it may not achieve the sense that you spoke about of being in a black box and feeling that thing, whatever it is, that you think is theatre…)
Performances today
First version – its all about me, I’m deep in my own head behind my eyes. My experience is in a space that opens out beyond my vision, inside me. Its intimate, close to me, detailed, subtle, nuanced. I am lead by the sound narrative, and immersed in a sensitive, subtle place in my head that I have to work hard to process. It is leading me, but I am working hard to keep up, feel the shape, try to understand. I am not allowed to drift, it requires me to be singular. There is nothing else to carry me, distract me, allow me to rest.
Note – is this because I am an inexperienced listener? That I am used to seeing the world not hearing it? Is this what causes the concentration, the focus, the intensity?
Second version – it is all about me interpreting meanings. I drift, with noise in the background, on my own thought train. The experience of the sound and images carries me, quite passively. I create meaning for myself, stream of consciousness, word[image/sound]-association style. A city skyline silhouette shadow with orange streelights, the Blitz reigning down on the city, whirlpools in a storm. Its all the same, big, sound, which frees me to float on my own trajectory, think my thoughts. I am not following a sound narrative, I am immersed in an experience, which involves sound. I am drifting in and out, the experience is guided, suggested, not led. Its easier than version one, but much less startling, and less intense, and less subtle. Dreamy. Floating. The sound is the backdrop to the experience.
Note – perhaps this is because I’m an inexperienced listener? That I cannot keep the sound foregrounded if there are other competitors? That overall this experience is too busy for me to take it in, and so I make choices and the sound accompanies rather than leads?
Scribbles from notebook made in the dark, fleshed out:
In the second piece, there is a time when I think (sometimes contradicting myself, but perhaps it shows a journey!):
“Shapes – shadows, huge blocks of dark against the crawling screen. Large geometrical blocks of darkness, 2D screen but hints that these blocks of shadow / shape could create 3D perspective. This is exaggerated by the projection against the front of the desk jumping in space to the screen at the back. Interesting…
Shifting shapes, shadows and colour instead of image? Is this a potential solution for the ‘having-to-light-‘something’ problem ?
“Shapes of your bodies at angles - degree of tilt Jonathan is sitting
echoes geometric lines of shadow.
shafts/pillars of orange light upwards.”
Orange in the film and the stage lights.
I’m not listening to the words. I did last time
“I want to see the visuals now! But the desk and shadows of their heads are in the way.”
“Their movement / presence is a distraction rather than a lynchpin. They’re in shadow anyway – why are they there?”
* What does Damian mean by 'the danger of live theatre'? Is he inferring that the empathy that one enters into, and therefore the phenomenological journey our mind makes, when watching live theatre is a very private happening that could take us to areas of the 'human condition' that perhaps we wouldn't want to experience or consider in our 'real' lives, and therefore the presences and proximity of participant-audience and participant-actor reminds us that we are in the company of others, and should I be feeling theses things - case in point the empathy felt for Eichmann in White Crow, i.e. he is just an old man who couldn't say 'no'.