Ventures/ and Adventures

The extraordinary thing about working in the theatre is the natural cycles that affect the work and relationships, which inevitably will be lost to time.

The retrospectives below, along with the blog posts over the two weeks we were in Berlin, document what our experience was of performing and fitting our show on the trip, and how we each were affected by the endeavor.

I invite you to look back through the posts, some now in the archives, and post comments, or questions.
I have always felt it takes a tough skin to do what we do, especially when at the end there is never anything to show for it.

If anything, I hope this little document will in the very least help remind us of what we accomplished, and demonstrate our discoveries of using space.
Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and if you are now just finding us, welcome to the blog. Feel free to show yourself around.


Cheers,
DH.

A final contrubtuion to the blog, tracking progress backwards. Departure. My
mind wanders to Bruce Chatwin, whose travel writing often turns to
nomadicism. Chatwin finds salve and strength is walking, the pedestrian
advantage. From Buddha to Luke Sywalker, the biped tourist learns
differently from those rooted, home-tied. For me, the work we are doing with
DaPoPo, exploring expressive means, poetry, actor-audience relationships,
and uses of space, is put into new perspective when seen by those I worked,
sang, drank and played with in Berlin before my school-trek to Canada.
Walking, a shift in gaze.
There is a continuum. At the risk of living on
borrowed phrases, I quote from Max Frisch (one of my theatrical role
models): "with time, one has a biography". Travel. Yes, your life moves
forward, but takes shape backwards. Whence we arrive, ultimately, at the
'Po-Po', or 'bum'. Anatomical queer, the 'after': perhaps something to do
with our forward-tilted mythologies. Starting point, sitting pad, lost when
we stand to walk. To cite another influential quote from my childhood
infatuation with Musicals, a Sondheim lyric: "Stop worrying where you're
going,/ Move on./ If you can tell where you're going,/ You've gone./ You've
got to move on." Walking, exploring, moving forward: this is how we live. As
theatre artists especially, perhaps.
Step by step, gesture by gesture, word
by word and venue by venue we learn, exploring possibilities, stumbling
towards the meaning of the play, with time. Always leaving behind, always
gaining. Another terrifying page covered in characters, another chapter
penned. Arrival. Back where we began, but changed; looking back, changing
the way we see the beginning. But also the 'Po-Po'.

A play is directed not by one entity, but by the people that are connected
to it. A life is directed by choices, and by the people connected to those
choices. You can choose to wear glasses or contacts, you can choose to eat
meat, get married or learn to navigate the Berlin public transport system
(or not). In life, some choices will inevitably disappoint you. Some will
surprise you. Some will change the way you look at your work, your life, and
the way you choose to live it. Berlin did this for me.



As I sit on the porch of my apartment on a beautiful Halifax day, trying to
fight off the jet lag long enough to come up with a final blog entry that
doesn’t focus too much on Hallmark card quotes or curry wurst, I find myself
struck by the idea that I almost chose not to audition for this show. I
almost decided to forgo this experience simply because the words “prepare a
performance piece” scared me. Now, in retrospect I realize once again that
we gain the most from the things that most scare us.





In all ways, 13 Ways and Berlin seemed to be a very bad decision for me.
Financial, artistic and work related problems plagued the rehearsal process.
The very idea of this show and Berlin brought me stress, debt and doubt,
however, the reality of it left me with a new respect for the craft and the
people who devote themselves to it. With a new awareness of space, and how
one inhabits it. With new friends, new bruises, a renewed interest in soccer
and a re-established love for beer and unfortunately, tequila.
Garry and his partner Eric just wandered by my porch so I had take a break
to share the only bottle of wine I brought back from Germany with them- it
seemed fitting. In one of our many nostalgic rants, Garry mentioned a card
he saw at the Frankfurt airport that he thought summed up our trip. It
roughly translated into ‘to enjoy the full taste of life you have to take
full bites’.




Initially I thought I was taking on more than I could chew with Berlin, but
now I see this trip was a delicious appetizer. It may sound trite, but I see
now that while good things can be born of “good” decisions, great things can
be born of “bad” ones. The reality of the 13 Ways experience in its entirety
still exists, but the ultimate effect it has had reinforces my belief that
for me, this was a bad decision gone great.

Thanks to the Dapopo crew who have changed the way I look at theatre and
space, and to the new friends who have changed the way I look at all night
karaoke bars and sunrises over bridges.





And to the readers-go to Berlin. It will change you. But remember to
exercise caution with the curry wurst.

I’m out.
Amy

it's really all the same. kidding. So VERY VERY kidding.

In previews, the Halifax audience response was mixed. To be fair, we
received rave reviews from some individuals, but a lot of reserved opinion.
Open or sidelong criticisms seemed to be based on what the show isn't. It
isn't narrative. It isn't linear. It isn't consistent in presentational
style. It isn't..."normal."

So. What happens when you find audiences who really like, or even love a
show for what it IS?

Hello, Berlin.

And now, goodbye. What do you say when someone asks "How was it?" How can
you sum up a two week adventure in time, space and life with a casual "It
was (insert-random-adjective-here)" phrase?

I've been going through my own photos of the trip and can see evidence of so
much happiness, so much levity, so much sobriety, and so much exhaustion.
Not all at once, thank goodness. But such extremes, non?

In terms of the show, it was an awesome ride. Awesome on the grand vs.
colloquial scale. More roller coaster than merry-go-round, but if those are
the only options, I'd take roller coaster. Unless we're talking physical
reality: I'd probably puke on an actual rollercoaster.

My personal favorite was the performance at the loft. There was a
specialness and intimacy and immediacy throughout the entire show.



The Theaterforum Kreuzberg black box worked better than we had anticipated
on our first viewing. Using lighting as our "architecture" in the space as a
guide to place scenes seemed to be the key. And the dramatic lighting
certainly enhanced the scenes. It was fun to let Pip have a turn with
establishing running order, based on lighting. This was a much different
show for me personally, since two of the scenes in which I play had always
taken great advantage of being in the audience... under natural or full
light, touching, feeling, eye contact, direct one-on-one play. So the
separation by lights and darkness, by stage and rake ... it was an entirely
different experience within the context of performing this show.

Overall, I'm happy for what we gave the audiences in all the performances.
We had some really superlative shows, didn't we? The bonus: I didn't puke
once.



And now? Still processing, really. Lessons learned, some regrets earned.
Doubt wrangled, spirit mangled and restored. Doors opened in heart and mind.
Blue skies beyond and the Halifax premiere ahead. Future beckons, twinkling
and teasing.

Thanks to Shtev, Dustin, Amy, Garry, Steph & Pip.

Much affection
Kim

Steph on the radar.

Remember how we said Berlin was hot? Remember how we sweltered through the city streets and sweated through German phonetics? Remember how we stumbled around in pursuit of that ultimate mirage: the canal beach? I do. I also remember looking forward to the heat-humidity respite that SURELY awaited me at home. How could ANYWHERE north of the equator be as steamy as Berlin these past weeks?

Ahem.

Well, I'm back (after 24 hours of travel) and home, too, is locked in the midst of a ten-tonne heat-wave. I guess it's making me appropriately nostalgic, though, which leads me to this "lessons learned in Berlin" entry...

I think, before touring again on other continents, I'll make more of an effort to master the language. Perhaps because identity manipulation was on my mind (from the show), I was painfully conscious of being an Anglophone and the cultural-imperialism associated with my North American variety of English. I've been told before that I'm too sensitive to such things, but regardless, knowing Deutch couldn't hurt. I have a few phrases in pocket, don't get me wrong. My scant German phrases were mostly centred on food, however, which wasn't helpful once I had a full tummy. Incidentally, as for food, I'm going to ensure I have cooking options on tours in future. Veganism can be hard going and nutrient-poor when you're always in transit. I missed spinach. And Kicher erbsen (chick peas).



Don't do a five-venue show that requires a trunk as a set piece. Especially if that trunk is sticky with an unidentifying decomposing laminate substance. Most especially if the handles are breaking.

In all seriousness, though, I have few real grievances and a lot of renewed creative energy. Berlin seems, to me, a city of astounding artistic vibrancy. It careens with colour and ideas. Audiences were open: somewhat unflappable and eager to engage with us. When we discovered a new location/setting, pacing, direction for scenes (which we inevitably did b/c of radical venue change), they rejoiced with us. Each show, there were unexpected chuckles. I'm thinking, in particular, of the running-order game we played at Hucky's, People and the stones in Hucky's crazy metal chair or the Nightmare scene in his love-nest, the Head scene in the heating vent at Haus am Lutzowplatz, or the 1000 Fiends scene in the nook into the bathroom at Stiftung Starke.





If you've been trying hopelessly to develop a smoked-out voice for a character with which you've been struggling, go sing karaoke for three hours before the show. Works wonders. Yes, I DO mean it.

Keep your chin up. I mean it -- chin up while walking the streets. When a place has a lot of history, you want to be looking up, searching for evidence of air-raids, attack, destruction, concealment, repair, presentation, display. Berlin houses a many-storied psychology in its architecture. All puns intended. I love that.

Travel with a glue stick. And a knife... but keep the damn thing out of your carry-on, so that the nice German customs officer doesn't have to question you. Or, as I said, learn German so you can defend your stupidity.

Our work-adventures reminded me of the happy magicks of theatre. The creation of Magic -- surreality/hyper-reality -- is why I say I want to do theatre. It's real-life-plus. The unexpectednesses of this trip, the multiple venues and the original, unedited, unworkshopped material, led to constant discovery. Ever-evolution. Though we were sweating on our feet, the show felt fresh and, more, refreshing. I sweated more than I can remember as a hyperactive porter during "13,000 Directions", but it never troubled nor dampened me. I found the surprises, for the most part, happy.

Now I just have to figure out how to end global warming and get back.

Goodnight, Berlin.

The last blog entry was en route back to Halifax. Before that the last day documented was Thursday when we preformed at Huckie’s amazing loft apartment.

The following day, Friday, we had time to ourselves to see the city. I spent the day writing the blog entry on the Huckie performance and stumbling around looking for the home of a favorite company of mine gob squad, which was close to rosa-luzemberg platz, while others shopped near the 'zo' and laid on beaches.

That night we attended the gallery opening of Garry (Kennedy) and Cathy’s new exhibit called ‘Northend’ at the Emerson Gallery. Cathy’s half of the installation was a collection of show posters she has gathered from the Northend in Halifax, while Garry had painted the adjacent room in a pattern derived from an eBay add for two new war metals.

I was struck by Cathy’s piece and the experience of encountering a piece of Halifax, literally, in a foreign place. What is the importance of making ones work about their own backyard?

Saturday the group moved into the gallery space whose name I forget in the area I can’t remember, but it was the venue discussed in the ‘air Berlin’ blog entry. See earlier posts, including the comment boxes for more reference. This was, of course, after the stellar game of pick up soccer Amy, Steph and I played with Flo and his friends at their old highschool where he met Garry.

This gallery space exists in a large villa, and takes its particular claim to fame as the spot where Yoko Ono does her work- one of her art managers is the owner of the space. A guy whose demeanor was not the most welcoming to us.

As we have learned from other spaces, we tried to make use of the uniqueness of the location. The vast height of the ceilings aided the poetry in ‘people and the stones’, and the dense décor in the lobby really made the Mary Clifton ballad feel like a Victorian hotel. Again we made use of the exterior garden space and moved the audience through the gallery.

Most of the conversation we had working up to the show was about how to order the scenes. The discovery we made the night before at Huckie’s suggested that we find a way to bring the game of pulling numbers into the performances. However the method of how to adapt this idea was anything but obvious. Recreating the exact format would have been too difficult and suddenly there were too many variations up for consideration, which all appeared as compromises to the original game idea. So, the idea was dropped and the logic of moving the audience according to the placement of scenes seemed to make the most sense with the time we had to work with. But perhaps this is where the development of the show is evolving…


Sunday, we moved into the theatre space, theatre forum, in Keuzberg. This space is a black box theatre space in the midst of a multicultural melting pot. A traditional black box theatre, it has theatrical lighting instruments, and a small rake for audience seating up to about 60. This area where the theatre is located is a ‘destination of choice for young people and the latest place for everyone to be’, according to my research.

During the morning of preparation, we made the choice to fit the scenes on the stage, and construct a production modeled on the traditional uses of the theatre- a stark contrast to the environmental staging that we had been doing in the galleries.

Similar to our earlier processes, we looked to the space for architecture. We decided to treat the lighting design that was hung in the theatre like we would the architecture of a space. We placed the scenes like we would have when we looked at doorways or corridors and always trying to fit the scenes that were well suited to the way the lights shaped the space.

The construction of the scene list for the performance was determined by Pip, our stage manager. She ordered the scenes according to how they flowed most naturally from lighting cue to lighting cue. A process of ordering the scenes that is not unlike the natural movement of spectators through the space.

We attempted to disrupt the formal presentation of the show by returning to work lights between scenes, and inviting dialogue with the audience. We discussed the importance of our play as a collection of scenes form 11 different writers, facts about Keith Jr, and near the end took any questions from the audience. When the time allotted for conversation was up, Pip dinged a bell signifying the start of the scene.

The difference of this kind of performance at the end of our tour was experienced diversely amongst the group. These experiences are going to be documented in the final blog postings from the group, which will be posted in the next couple of days.

After the performance rapped Sunday, we collected our things, had a final couple of beers with Garry’s friends Mario and Flo (the show groupie) at a tapas bar, then called it a night so that we could prepare for our early flight the next morning.

And so that brings us up to date.

But that’s not quite the end of the blog. In addition to various pics that will be going up, like I mentioned just a few lines above, expect some final thoughts from the members of the group.

If you are just finding the blog now, look back through the archives. Plus, I am always adding pics to old posts. And, keep the comments coming…

the last couple of days have been a whirlwind of activity. two new performances in radically different spaces.

now that we are at the airport it looks grim that i will finish a post about the last three days before returning to halifax.


i will update as soon as i'm back.

ps. be sure to read the comments that the ends of some of the posts. also, feel invited to add something.

dh.

champion sports players will tell you they perform best when they are fully in the moment.

last night was one of our best performances, which might be a result of it being one of the best spaces. we were at another gallery space, but instead of performing in the gallery itself the show was presented in the loft apartment of the gallery owner, 'Huckie'.

this unique space used to be an metal works factory at some point, but Huckie has since rennovated it. the apartment was mostly brick walls with arch patterns and high ceilings that were broken up by wooden beams that ran from wall to wall. a kitchen was added and a wall was added down the longest side to create a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom.



Again, we looked for the spaces that were best suited for the different scenes. the nightmare made use of a bed already in one corner of the space, scene one took advantage of a heavy woodna dn metal elevator, and the head was elevated up against one of the tall brink walls that had a ledge just big enough of for steven to stand on.

to make the evening more like an event we prepard food again and provided wine with much help (like the night before) from garry's mom, anne.

as if the evening wasn't special enough, we played with the notion of turning the show into a bit of a game. an action that we never before had taken, but came out of a disscussion of wanting this performance to be a bit more casual. so, we left the running order up to the audience, who decided which scene came next by taking a number from designated spaces and placing it on a poduium. to signal that a number was selected, they then rang a bell and the scene would begin. we hung the numbes up at the end and when the show was complete all of the numbers hung in a line along one wall of the space.



yeilding the order put us firmly in the moment of each scene. and due to the episodic nature of the play anyway, no 'narrative' was lost. in fact, one of the spectators commented to me that he thought we had manipulated the whole thing because the order was too appropriate. but as there is there is often good turns of luck, i'm sure that the order would not always yeild such a good flow.

today we are left to our own devices until the opening of cathy and garry's (kennedy)exhibit at the emerson gallery.

i am taking to the time to stroll about the streets. tomorrow we are doing, what will be, the last gallery shows, and on sunday is the theatre presentation at theatre forum.

time to spend seeing berlin is almost gone, if not already fleeting.

we performed last night at a the second gallery space. this space was much bigger than the emerson and offered us opportunites that the smaller gallery didn't. for example this venue has a main gallery, a garden court yard and a small studio gallery. we used to the kitchen to make food and serve a variety of drinks.

when we go into these venues we start by looking at what scenes are well suited to the uniquness of the space. then we construst a running order, which is usually a putting together of the scenes as they move throught the areas of the space.

new to this production was to use the rock and roche scene at the beginning to move the audience through all of the space ending up in the studio gallery. we had been putting scenes in areas, but never had a scence had floating staging. a neat discovery, and an opportunity to explore the idea of orientating the spectators to the space we would be using for the next two hours.

scenes with particular interesting uses of space were the head scene that used a dug out hole in the cement floor of the studio revaled by removing an iron grate. from inside the hole stevn made strange noises and banged on the cover eventually sticking his head out of the hole with people looking down onto him. also was the staging of 13000 direction on a 50' long metal ramp. the ramp, located in the garden and the area below it, effectively evoked the shipping dock and the market that would have accompanied it in real life. a scene that was informed differently due to space was the tea party scene, which now made use of a table and chairs in the open air garden. a contrast to its previous stagings in small tight interior spaces, this outdoor setting had a more direct alice in wonderland reference.

as a whole it is important to be able to measure one's own sucecess. anytime these scenes reveal an important idea or image or location leaden in the scene one has to feel satisfled that we are doing something right.

for mine own part, i feel a sense of loss each time we are able to discover something so specail about the environments we encounter then face the reality that we must leave it and look for something new for the next perfomance. this kind of loss is inherently sad as it is tied to the reality of live performance. the moment exists for one brief period of time then it is lost to necessity to push foward.

but isn't that the same thing that makes it beautiful?

photos forthcoming...

so much of what you decide to do depends on what you hope to get in return.

we looked at the performance space we have tentitvely scheduled for saturday night. the cast has gut instincts about not doing the play in that gallery venue, but there still seems to be some rational resons for doing the the show there despite the feelings and insufficent organization. enough that it is very unclear what to do about the situation.

where is the line between personal satisfaction, and satisfying someone else's expectations?

as theatre workers, we accumulate a certain amount of social stigma from our profession, and we are used to treatment that some other professions would not put up with. most of the time that treament ends up affecting the genuine love we have for the work.

a couple of senior artists will not fly in the cheapest way to get to australia because they feel they should have to do that anymore. he's 80, and she's 60.

the meeting today revealed that we are not established artists. so at what point in your development are you permitted to start asking for the different flight?