Proto-type Lab

A new post from Sticky-tape on all things mentorship

2012-02-22T11:51:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

This is oursecond post for the mentorship, it’ll be a bit shorter than the previous one,just a brief catch up on what we have been doing this past month.

Near theend of January we met up with Wes at the office for a session on scheduling andrural touring. Before we got down to business we decided that the best thing todo would be to plan the mentorship sessions for the next few months. For bothparties the next few months were looking particularly hectic so we decided to getas much down in the diaries as we could. This was mainly due to Fortnightcoming to Manchester; aprospect we’re very excited about having been unable to take part in Lancaster;and the fact that two of us have started new jobs recently whilst Tom’s beenvisiting family in Thailand. So, as it currently stands, our February meeting(looking at ACE grants and alternative sources of funding) will actually betaking place in March and our March session will be a practical artisticdevelopment session taking place at MMU and will be looking at ideas for ournew show.

So, afterwe got all of that sorted and pencilled in we started to look in depth at thevarious ins and outs of successful project scheduling. We had alreadyconstructed a very basic outline of how we envisioned our next projectunfolding prior to the meeting, and this ended up serving brilliantly as aspringboard to a discussion about just how important it is to plan down to thesmallest detail. Things like an hourly breakdown of what will be taking placein the rehearsal and proper budgeting are artistic discipline 101, and arefresher on this was perfectly timed considering our downtime over new years.We also looked at the value of record keeping, documentation, setting goals forthe rehearsals and inviting friends, other practitioners and people’s whoopinions we respect. All of these things will allow us to make sure that theprocess is a cumulative one and that we’re always building in a focused manneron what we’ve got without losing things along the way.

In therural touring section of the session we looked first of all at the differencesbetween rural and venue touring. Particularly at the different sorts of workapplicable to each, as well as the different types of audiences we would becatering to. We also discussed the limitations that rural touring can place ona project as far as production values go. The counter point to this is that ashow that can be toured rurally will be able to tour for longer in a largernumber of smaller venues, as larger scale shows at venues like the Nuffield andContact can affect a pretty wide audience catchment area. We learned a lot andit was all very useful, pertinent stuff.

So that’sjust a brief summary of what we’ve been up to. We intend to have another twoposts in March giving you a bit of an insight into our funding session andwhere we are in the development of our new show.

Until then,

Beexcellent to each other

Sticky-Tape

Notes from Social Cities of Tomorrow

2012-02-20T03:34:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday I flew to Amsterdam for a quick trip to the Social Cities of Tomorrow conference which was being held at the MC Theatre. The last time I was in Amsterdam was in 2004 when I was (briefly) a student at Das Arts, a postgraduate programme for theatre artists. My time at Das Arts wasn't fabulous...the programme was going through a massive shift and it wasn't at all the advanced laboratory I had expected. I was trying to push my practice into more conceptual territory at the time, and the head of the school wanted me to keep doing the same work I had been doing for years. So, my time living in Amsterdam was a brief encounter that was very much clouded by negative feelings. It was really nice, then, to come return to rediscover Amsterdam out of that context.

The crowd at lunch, MC Theatre

The conference was incredibly inspiring, despite the fact that I was getting a progressively worse cold/flu thing over the time I was there. The structure of the programme was arranged around three keynotes from remarkable presenters: Usman Haque (founder of Pachube.com), Natalie Jeremijenko (founder of the xDesign Environmental Health Clinic [TED TALK HERE]) and Dan Hill (from Sitra). Between each of the keynotes, there were showcase presentations of work spanning a range of projects that were in some way addressing the notion of a social city. Our friends at Uninvited Guests were there presenting their R&D project from the Theatre Sandbox scheme called Give Me Back My Broken Night. Most of the conference talks were not about art or theatre (with the exception of the Uninvited Guests showcase), but I found my head buzzing like crazy throughout the intensive day. It was a truly inspiring set of speakers that is making me really wonder about what I'm doing with my life. I don't know exactly what impact it will have on my long term, but it has certainly unsettled me (in a good way).

To give you a sense of why I found it so inspiring, here are a few snaps of thought from the day, in a random list that mimics the firing of synapsis that was happening in my brain:

Ownership can be the right to 'exclude' but it can also be the right to 'act'. How do we inspire cities to encourage people to feel ownership so that they are able to 'act'? What role does art/theatre have to play in this (see Fortnight).
"The city is a way of encountering things you don't know anything about; for meeting people whose background you don't share" (Usman Haque said this). This very much links with the thinking/writing I've been doing since 2006 about the idea that future cities will not be driven by commerce in the same way they are now, but instead by event culture. We no longer have any need to go into a city to buy things, really. When we do, its usually either because we want something 'right away' or because we want an experience in the 'real' world. Internet shopping is much more efficient and easy, so why shop in city centres anymore? Instead, cities of the future could/should be about providing space for people to have experiences, interactions. Hopefully these events will be driven by communities and not by corporations (but I'm not that hopeful).
We tend to think that if we have more knowledge/data/information, we'll be better equipped to act. Usman was making the point that it isn't so much about having more data (what people do, when, and how) but about making things tangible and immediate. In other words, you give all kinds of accurate statistics about how bad it is that people pollute/drive cars/etc but until those actions have a tangible result that we experience first hand, it is unlikely that a person will act to create change.
An example of the above bullet point, of making your impact on the world tangible, is Usman's project 'Natural Fuse'. Check it out. Amazing.
Embrace the complexity, reject simplicity, but make it tangible. I was glad to hear this message throughout the day as its been a founding part of Proto-type's aesthetic over the years that we don't simplify...we create complex work that is made tangible. Usman said the role of designers was to represent complexity accurately, not to simplify. I think the role of a theatre director is to do a similar thing - to represent complexity accurately in a theatrical form.
Many small actions can add up to significant impacts. This theme ran throughout the presentation by the utterly brilliant Natalie Jeremijenko. Many of her projects are playful mini explorations of the impact of humans on the planet - always done in a way that reveals the complexity of a problem. If anyone can get me a date for a meal with her I'd be super grateful. I'm pretty sure she is the most interesting/smartest person I've been near before. Just check out some of her projects and you'll know what I mean. Genius.
Check out this brilliant project in London for homeless people. Someone give them a lot of money to expand this.
And look at this game with a fantastic name that was run in the Netherlands. It is like a mini version of some of what happens in Fortnight but on a lower-tech scale.
"Technology is the answer. But what was the question." - Cedric Price. Amen brother.
From Dan Hill -->We are living in a time where the complexity of problems are out of scale with the decision making structures of our institutions (universities, governments, planning agencies, etc). The problems we are facing today aren't clear or clearly delineated; they are interdependent (aka terrorism, environmental collapse, etc). We have 18th century institutions facing 21st century problems. We need to change the systems. <-- this makes me think about how small organisations like Proto-type or independent artists like me can challenge the systems we are part of/dependent on. A lot has been said about artists working outside of the systems of funding, distribution etc. I've always found the talk from those who advocate for breaking away to be overly naive. So, if exiting the systems isn't the solution, than how do we change the systems we have? One of the things that came up again and again in relation to this question was that we need concrete projects/problems which make the problems with the system apparent. Rather than trying to change systems abstractly, its best to have a project that forces the change because the project is so good/important/necessary that the system is forced to adapt. In a weird way, this is one of the strategies I've been using at MMU where I teach and where the systems are atrocious. I've been trying to make the work I do outside of what they want me to do so valuable that they allow me to do it. We'll see if this strategy works. If not, who wants to hire me?

The notes above might seem to have nothing to do with art making and theatre, but I think they do. How can we make art, specifically art in cities as Proto-type has tended to do, without dealing with the consequences of our collective actions as humans? We need to find ways to live our values through the kind of work we do, how we do it and who we do it for.

And, most of all, playfulness is a brilliant strategy for insuring that our voices are heard.

On that note, I thought I'd share a somewhat crappy video of what was happening in the adjoining cafe to the theatre during the lunch break (check out their outfits and the song they are playing relative to their age). Only in Amsterdam:

Fortnight is coming to Manchester!

2012-01-30T03:33:00.000-08:00

Proto-type's Fortnight is coming to Manchester. If you haven't yet, then check out the trailer here:

And look at what participants of the Lancaster version had to say about it:

We are pretty proud of Fortnight, and hope you'll come play when it is in Manchester

http://www.fortnightproject.com/project/participant-feedback/

Sticky Tape Blog One

2012-01-14T00:16:00.000-08:00

Hello There!

This is the first contribution to Proto-type's blog by Sticky-tape. We realize it's been a while since Wes posted introducing us, promising a regular contribution to the blog and for this we would like to apologize. Things have been quite hectic on our end so far but that's no excuse for depriving you good people of the latest mentorship news.

We are now in our 4th month of the mentorship scheme and as a result felt that we should probably tell you what we have been up to. Having finished our MA's at Lancaster in September we promptly (the day after our last exams) moved to our new home in Manchester and set about finding jobs and settling in to prepare for our lives as artists in a professional context. Of course, finding jobs in the current economic climate is not that easy and so it took us a bit of time to get on our feet.

Our first meeting with Proto-type was with peter in their Manchester office. We discussed how the Mentorship scheme would work, what they expected of us and what we expected of them. It was a short meeting but we felt that it was a very positive experience. It made the professional dream real and helped us see the future of our little company a little more clearly. However, as brief as it was, it was still just long enough for me to have my bike stolen, which was, as they say, not a great thing to happen. But I guess you have to take the good with the bad in all things.

Our second meeting was centered on the importance and execution of effective networking. We discussed the significance of building and maintaining mutually beneficial relationships and various strategies that would help us do so. Following this we set about immersing ourselves in the various art networks in Manchester. Our first being Creative Lunches, a very enjoyable monthly event that served as both a forum for arts based discussion and an informal presentation event for practitioners. I would recommend Creative lunches wholeheartedly, based mainly on the welcoming atmosphere created by the people who participate.

The people that make up these networks are many and varied, ranging from the artists themselves, to people who simply love contemporary work, to the facilitators that allow the work to take place and more. All of these people are enthusiastic and willing to support each other in creating and enjoying a large and varied selection of exciting art.

In December we made our merry way up to Lancaster to use their rather impressive rehearsal spaces. Wes and Rachel came along and we spent the first day on a really in depth evaluation of our practice. We examined our back catalogue of work and our previous processes to begin a ruthless examination of our working methods. Once done we had created two large charts that contained the things we love about Sticky-Tape on the one hand and the things we would quite like to change on the other. From there we decided to move forward with the construction of our new process, focusing on our current topic of interest, vaudevillian performance, and our continued interest in pushing the boundaries of the visual aesthetics of the theatrical space. These are our jumping off points. What we end up making may or may not bear any relation to them, but such is the way of these things, I guess we will have to wait and see.

That, (barring some minor details and probably some quite important things that I have simply forgotten to mention) is pretty much everything we've done so far. I promise we will be more regular in our future blogging so that we can keep them shorter, easier to read and a bit (if only a bit) more concise.

Introducing: [Sticky-Tape Theatre]

2011-09-20T10:29:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

While it may not be news to some of you (and I apologise to those in the know...), we are about to launch the pilot year of our company mentorship scheme. The scheme, which we've been hatching, developing, and working-through over the past twelve months, is an opportunity for a young company to work alongside us for a year to 'learn the ropes' of making contemporary performance in professional contexts. In addition to a year of artistic support and development, we'll be offering training to our mentees on a wide variety of subjects: from budgeting to networking, rural touring to marketing - and almost everything in-between...

We had a huge amount of applications, and had we the resources, I think it's fair to say that we would have taken on more than one company. There are so many interesting young makers emerging right now, that we found it incredibly difficult to choose between their amazing and diverse range of strengths and interests. That said, a decision was indeed made, and we are delighted to introduce to you all our inaugural mentored company, Sticky-Tape Theatre.

The purpose of this particular blog post, then, is to let you know that as part of their time with us, the members of Sticky-Tape will be providing regular contributions to this blog; documenting, charting, and reflecting upon their experience of not only the mentorship scheme, but also of their first fledgling steps into the world of professional arts practice. Before they get stuck into all that, though, let me take this opportunity to tell you a little bit about the company...

Sticky-Tape Theatre, known in their component parts as Tom Kirk, Jon Coleman and Leo Patel, formed the company in 2008 during their time on Lancaster University's Theatre Studies programme. Developing a strong working sensibility and shared sense of aesthetic as undergraduates led them to their first piece, Falling, which marked the end of their second year of study. To their credit, this piece went on to be shown at the now-departed GreenRoom in Manchester. In 2009/10 they produced their graduating piece Moments/Details, which was a rich and decadent blend of performance, choreography and shadow-play, composed with a keen and perceptive eye for the subtleties, rhythms and nuances of ensemble performance.

In 2010 the Sticky-Tape team made the decision to further their research by enrolling on Lancaster's Professional Arts Practice MA (PROCAP). As well as using this time to extend their working knowledge of the contemporary arts, they also produced their third full-length work, My Canary's Name Is Daniel, which premiered in September 2011 as the celebratory culmination of their MA programme.

[Sticky-Tape Theatre] My Canary's Name Is Daniel (trailer) 2011

Which leads us to the present, to the here-and-now. Sticky-Tape's next step is here, with us, and we all have high-hopes for them and their work. We've got lots to do - as always... - and so much to talk about and discuss, but everyone at team-Proto is very excited about what promises to be a productive, stimulating, and educational twelve months.

We're delighted to have Sticky-Tape working with us, and welcome them with open arms. I hope you'll get to know them a little better as time goes by.

W.

Turning British

2011-07-26T07:22:00.000-07:00

This blog post also appears on the British Council's website right here.

When I moved to England in 2006, I didn't expect to still be here five years later. I thought I was coming to take a break from running my small theatre company (Proto-type Theater) which I started in NYC in the 90s, to reflect on my practice by doing an MA. My plan was to step off the production treadmill that I had been on for years (momentarily) and enjoy the comforts of the Ivory Tower of Academia. Fate, luck or fortune, however, had other plans for me. Five years later, I am not back in NYC where I assumed I would be, but instead sitting in the living room of the flat that I purchased in Manchester City Centre late last year, with my PhD certificate sitting in an envelope next to me and an email from the British Council asking for information about one of Proto-type's projects. It has been a busy five years: Proto-type have premiered three touring theatre shows, created one site-responsive video installation, developed a two-week long pervasive media performance that premiered in , run a semi-regular artistic development programme called the Sunday Lunch Club, hosted a summer school, taught loads of workshops and managed to do it all on a shoestring. Time flies, as they say, when you're having fun.

When the British Council invited us to participate in ES2011, we were first of all honoured but I immediately started to wonder what it means to be 'British'. As the American-born artistic director of Proto-type, I wondered whether my face (or more accurately, my accent) was the right one to be representing the company in Edinburgh. In a time when immigration rules are tightening it seems almost a political act to call myself British. But of course, national identity is fluid and when I thought about the fact that I have committed myself to England through my flat purchase, academic day job, and my work with Proto-type, I decided that I am both British and American. I make work here that responds to and reflects onto contemporary British society, so call me 'chap' now instead of 'dude'. At least for now...

My reflections on national identity are also related to Third Person: Bonnie and Clyde Redux which will be in this year's showcase. In the piece, we use the story of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow who were bank robbers in the early part of the 20th century as a way to explore why we love (some) people who kill and how our identities on stage relate to our identities in the 'real world'. Bonnie and Clyde were, in many ways, responding to the economic circumstances of living in dust bowl America: it is possible that their violent actions were really a reaction to the tightening noose of an America that was struggling to integrate under one common set of ideologies. Although their story is only part of what the show is about, I am sometimes struck in rehearsals by how much the show relates to England in 2011: economic uncertainty, immigration concerns, banks with too much power... The more things change, the more they stay the same it seems. So as an American and a Brit, I am intrigued to see how the tangles of politics, romance, and history that we weave together in Third Person will be received by delegates from other cultures. What parallels will they find? What debates will the show spark? What unanswered questions will it raise? I don't know how it will end up, but I am looking forward to being there for the conversation.

Proto-type Theater in the Edinburgh Fringe Fest! from Proto-type on Vimeo.

Theatre? I'd Give to Charity Before I Gave to Theatre.

2011-07-18T03:08:00.000-07:00

Hello friends, it's been a while.

You'll have to accept my apologies for absconding from the blog for a little bit, it's been a very busy time: PhD corrections to write (now all finished - thanks, thanks); a new job starting soon; and a podcast to get off-the-ground. There's been plenty of activity behind-the-scenes at the Proto-office too, but here I am, again, with something else to think about.

As plenty of you will know already, we had a go at crowd-funding to raise funds for our upcoming jaunt to Edinburgh for the British Council Showcase. For the uninitiated, crowd-funding (sometimes known as crowd-sourcing) is 'the process of aggregating small amounts of money from many people to fund projects. This money comes in the form of donations, not investment, so it will not be repaid. However, most of the crowd-funding sites do offer the ability to provide a donor with a perk for his/her donation. Perks vary in range and are dependent on the amount of donation made. [1]'

To this end, we tried to raise £2500 to help us cover some of the associated costs of taking a show on the road. You see, the Arts Council don't grant money for touring to Edinburgh (something I do agree with), so companies are obliged to strike-out on their own to raise the cash.

As a company, it's not territory we're unfamiliar with. When Proto-type was based in NYC, we held numerous fund-raisers and other initiatives to source investment, equipment and space with great success. Indeed, our boldest initiative, which operated chiefly through a website called helpusmakecooltheater.com, raised in the region of $10,000. But don't think that this is an anomaly. Public money for the liberal arts is much harder to come by in the US - especially NYC - than it is here in the UK, and if you're a fledgling company in New York City who isn't thinking in an entrepreneurial way, then you're in for some hard lessons.

Now as far as I can see, crowd-funding isn't quite hitting the highs here as it does (did?) in the US. The first reason, I think, is to do with such a massive shift in funding structures. Acceptance takes time, and I think it's hard for many people (me included) to swallow that I have to pay, out of my own pocket, to see the kind of work that I think should be supported with public money. And then I get what I'm calling 'priority guilt', which is the view that when I give money to fund theatre, or an arts-project, I should be giving it to the homeless, or to Cancer Research, or a campaign for human rights. As I was personally told: "You want me to pay for you to make theatre? I'd give to charity before I gave to theatre". People who can't even (or won't even) spare the cash to give to charity (and I don't, because right now I either can't, or choose not to, afford to) would give to charity before they would the production of theatre. And I don't blame them. I don't blame them one bit. I can see the list of priorities there, and they have a logic to them which is strong and hard to argue against convincingly.

So it's probably about a paradigm shift that is probably a) a long way off or b) never coming at all. The shift, then, is that we need to have everyone giving to charity with enough money left over to put some money into art. But I'm guessing that if everyone gave something substantial to charity, and I mean everyone, then arts-funding wouldn't be in the place it is now.

Now, we didn't hit our target on WeFund (a large crowd-funding platform in the UK). In fact, we got to about 26%. While we don't feel like WeFund should be the sole-bearer of blame, part of that is due to potential donors having so many technical difficulties with the site that it became impossible to donate - or they donated twice, or they couldn't log in, and the list goes on. These sites, for all the work they host, are small operations - run by one, maybe two people - and it's easy to see how much work must go into keeping them running. But the problem is this: lots of people (way more than you think), still get very, very nervous about giving anything away online. And if there's a whiff of trouble, the merest suggestion of a glitch or bug, they'll run a mile and never come back. And that's why it's important that these sites are working and working well. Because there's people who I know, who tried to donate to us, that probably won't donate to anybody, ever, online now. And if you think that's an uncommon response, then you should pull your head out from the Thunderbolt port on your Macbook and realise that everybody isn't like you.

But its easy to pass the blame, and I refuse to do it. I have to look at my own work, and wonder whether judgment has been passed, whether the 'crowd' has told me that it's not worth making. But I don't buy that either. If you think you can tell an artist that they 'shouldn't' make something, then you don't understand what being an artist is. For me, for example, it's hard to collaborate. It's my biggest struggle, and the thing I find most difficult. I have a very clear idea of what theatre should be, and that won't ever (and can't ever, regardless of who I work with) be the same as the rest of the company. We overlap a great deal, and that's why we work together, but there will always be a little part of me that recites the mantra: a camel is a horse designed by committee.

My theatre, when I'm in charge, is an absolute dictatorship. This vision is mine, and you will do what I say to produce it, because it's beautiful and vital and it must be seen. My point is that it doesn't matter to me what a 'crowd' tells me, because the crowd can either give me a million dollars or cast me to the gutter, and I'll still be right, and they'll still be wrong - it's that unshakeable belief that lets me do what I do in the first place.

But I do collaborate, and I do - very much - enjoy it. It forces me to listen, to compromise, to see 'it' the way others see it, to look and think again. My practice would be less rich without it, and I love all the Proto-people from the bottom of my bottom.

So where does this leave crowd-funding? What to do with the news that we didn't raise the money we needed to raise? It just means that the world is kind of broken, and that that's the way things are. I could present you with a very convincing argument that it's all the fault of capitalism, and pander to your middle-class, Guardian-reading sensibilities, but it's greyer than that. Capitalism works, and it doesn't. People give, and they don't. People care, and they don't. Art matters, and it doesn't. Life is important, and it isn't. Things will change when they change, and when they change it's time for change. Because change, when it comes, is inevitable.

Crowd-funding is about timing. It's about a timing over which you have no control. If you know enough people with enough spare pounds at that precise moment - and they're having a good week, and are feeling in a giving mood, and see your link in a crowded twitter-feed, and have five-minutes spare, and like something you did, once, or want to get on your good side, or want to seem like a tasteful aesthete, it'll work. The conditions have to be perfect. The conditions are rarely perfect. Conditions are never truly perfect. So you move on, and you dust it off. What more can you do? Wallow? No thanks. Get angry? Why? You keep believing and you keep going, and you let your belief in what you do carry you forwards. If you don't believe in it, then you stop doing it.

If we don't make it to the Showcase that'll be a real shame, for us. And while it might have an impact on what we will do, it won't change our belief in what we can do. So we'll see you there, or we won't. We'll get rave reviews, or we won't. What you can bet your life on, though, is that while we have something to say, something to share, an image to give, we'll be doing it, somehow.

See you soon,
Wes x

[1] Sheri Candler, Crowdfunding: What Is It and How Can It Help Microbudget Filmakers

http://www.microfilmmaker.com/tipstrick/Issue52/Crowdfn1.html

Expectations...

2011-05-19T05:04:00.000-07:00

At the end of a big project several things happen for me: (a) I start to reflect on what happened and what I think about it; (b) I try to reorient my focus to the things that have inevitably been slightly abandoned while I was pursuing the ‘big project’, and; (c) I generally get a bit depressed. Having just completed the first full-scale run of Fortnight as part of Mayfest in Bristol I am now speedily proceeding through a, b and c. Along the way, I’ve been thinking a lot about expectations. This, then, is a blog post about expectations (or at least that’s the expectation I am setting out with as I start writing).

When we first started making Fortnight, it was called city[E]scape. I can’t remember why we had that silly [E] in there except that maybe we thought it related to a key on a computer, or it separated the two parts of the title or something. We abandoned that title because it seemed to set an expectation that the project was somehow about escaping from cities. A conversation with Nadine Owen at the British Council made me realise that the title needed to change. She said that the project sounded brilliant but it wasn’t about cities at all, it was about people. She was right, so we went back to the workroom and thought more about what kind of title might suit the project. In the end, we went with something that related to a key formal aspect of the project (duration) because we thought that time was one of the main things that would make the piece unique. So, Fortnight it was. And is. And the expectation in that title is that it lasts for two weeks. This is what I call a ‘no risk expectation’ because in setting that expectation we have a very low risk of failure…as long as it lasts two weeks, it has lived up to its title. Perhaps this is a bit of a Danish way of seeing things (the Danes are famously the happiest people in the world due in large part to their low expectations of everything).

Over the course of developing Fortnight, we discovered that there were expectations that we were setting for ourselves (make it good, dammit) and ones which were coming from elsewhere (do it on time and on budget, and make it about me, no about me, no about me). In the end, we did what we always do, which is we tested the project a lot, listened to the feedback and followed our instincts for how to make the piece succeed. In my opinion, Fortnight was a raging success. But that depends on how you look at it and what your expectations were going in.

For instance, we tried to make it very clear in the marketing material that Fortnight was not a game or a play and that it was instead a playful exploration about being here now. Some people read this and understood it in the way we intended it. Others seem to have ignored or misread or misunderstood the marketing copy and decided that, based on the formal structure of the piece, it was a game, or a play, or something much more than playful. One of those people got angry and ‘annoyed’ (to use his word) during the project and opted out on day 12. Others coasted and sent us their feedback at the end to tell us that it didn’t meet their expectations (one calling it ‘puerile’!). These people had expectations that could not possibly be met because we don’t know what they were or where they came from. These are the ‘mystery expectations’. No hope in meeting those, but good to be reminded of them and to consider that somehow we had a hand in setting them.

Others (by far the majority) jumped into the project headlong and let it take them wherever it went. For some people it was the ‘playful’ exploration we said it would be. For others it was life changing. We received this bit of feedback one day in our office:

And this postcard was sent to us from a participant after a task that involved writing a postcard to someone:

These people are the ones who seem to have decided that expectations were not useful in navigating their way through the project. Or at least, ‘fixed’ expectations weren’t helpful. These people allowed their expectations to shift as they found out more about the piece. They sent passionate emails, SMSes, MMSes and wrote beautiful posts on the website. For these people, Fortnight was magical.

There was one other (small) group of people who started Fortnight with a set of expectations that were related to ‘theatre’ or a ‘festival’. Some of these wrote not very nice (or accurate) blog posts which had at their heart a fundamental expectation that Fortnight might flow the way a theatre piece flows, which it, of course, does not since it isn’t a theatre piece. This isn’t to say that their critiques are invalid because they are completely right to express their experiences/opinions. What feels a shame, from my perspective having worked incredibly hard for a year on the project, is that the expectations that these people went into the project with do not match with Fortnight’s aims, or the spirit of generosity in which it was offered. It’s a bit sad, more than anything, to know that some people simply missed the point. But, that is their prerogative and I am learning not to expect everyone to get it (it’s only taken 15 years of making work… ).

Most confusing (from the perspective of understanding expectations), and maybe interesting of all are the many private messages we’ve been receiving about how the project impacted people. I don’t know what their expectations were when they started the project, but here is a snippet of what they’ve said at the end:

“[I loved] the sillyness. Which I think serves as a poignant reminder to all these arty/critic types (sorry if you are one of them) who are far to arty to partake in activity which is silly. Cleary they have forgotten where creative ideas come from in the first place. I felt it was a small kind of triumph.”
“It's been an amazing 2 weeks, I am so glad I signed up to Fortnight. It did feel odd today not to have a mission to complete, it's funny how quickly you get used to something.”
“Fortnight has been utterly magical. I've loved the tasks (although some have made me cry) and the texts and emails have been a little touch of beauty in a world which can seem a bit much sometimes. I can't think of anything I didn't like.”
“I loved slowing down, looking at things through duck-y eyes, the encouragement to ponder on things which I would normally never think about. Really felt like a new part of my brain and my senses were coming to life!”
“Thanks fortnight. You made a real and positive difference to my life.”
“I've loved every minute of it! I especially loved the start”
“On an individual level it's been like therapy. Nothing less than transformative.”
“The only other thing I would say is the advert (in Mayfest magazine) didn't 'sell' it. I was unsure about whether to sign up from that advert. It was such a great experience, I wonder if that could be conveyed more if something similar was done again.”

That last one, there it is…expectation again. A good lesson for us to refine and revise how we talk about the project before it starts to set those expectations a bit better (although, interestingly, another participant said they thought the pre-information was spot on).

A few days ago, I sent a tweet, which said something along the lines of ‘you can't satisfy everyone but that doesn’t mean you should stop trying’. I got a response from a good friend asking if I was joking – possibly insinuating that trying to please everyone is not a good idea. There seems to be a popular notion that if you try to please everyone in your audience (or participants, in the case of Fortnight) the work will fail because it will be so generic as to speak to the lowest common denominator. I think that is a lazy and selfish way of making work. I think we should try to please everyone by making sure the work we make speaks for itself and is accessible (in the sense that it is self-instructing, that it tells you how to deal with it). I don’t think we should dumb the work down or make it generic. For me, the desire to please my audience (or participants) is a fundamental part of the very hard job of being an artist. I am not making work for myself (no more masturbatory art, please) but for a public. Sometimes that means I feel a bit like crying or screaming when my generous offer isn’t received the way I had hoped it might be. But, most of the time, it means I can sleep at night knowing I may not always succeed but I always work hard and smart. I refuse to give up or give in to the seductive potential of making work which is simple, easy to describe, or easy to manage. I am happy to be making work where expectations are difficult, even if I would really just like a ‘well-done’ from time to time.

Remote Viewing

2011-05-13T12:43:00.000-07:00

Hello, friends. It's been a while.

As I write this, half of the Proto-type crew (Gillian and Peter), are down in Bristol putting the finishing flourishes on to the world premiere of Fortnight. As part of this year's Mayfest, they've been weaving a two-week long, dispersed platform narrative alongside a bunch of keen-spirited Bristolians.

Because of a rather serious illness in the family, which is keeping me tied to home, I've not had the pleasure of joining in, and that leads me to some of the reflections in this post.

Right before the piece kicked-off, I did a little bit of voice-recording from up here in Lancaster, and I found that particular connection quite fascinating. (Really, Peter is the expert on these ideas, because he's worked remotely with choreographer Tiffany Mills on more than one occasion, attending and directing rehearsals via Skype across the expanse of the North Atlantic.)

You see, that little slice of involvement got me to thinking about how one might approach this piece in terms of a critical dramaturgy. In a more conventional process, the dramaturg can attend rehearsals, flick through notes or replay video, and there's a a tangible, material connection to the world of the work, most often framed by the concreteness of the rehearsal room.

But in terms of Fortnight, with a narrative which plays out in a sphere of hyper-subjectivity, that is, within the fabric of one's own daily, personal, and indeed private, life; and one which infiltrates and permeates the media and technologies that at once keep us connected and emphasize our distance, the role of the dramaturg finds itself in a little bit of trouble.

I suspect it's rather like dropping a jigsaw from a plane, and then asking someone in a submarine to tell you what the picture was. In a way, this kind of work demands a reconsideration of how we begin the process of dramaturgy, and following that, what it is we mean by dramaturgy proper. As a remote viewer in this piece, informed but not performatively invested, conceptually engaged but materially distant, my meditations and reflections start to take the form of a criminal profiler: filling in gaps, making assumptions, assuming a psychology, and a phenomenology of a piece I simply can't know.

But while that seems to problematise the experience, I'm finding it to be a genuinely unique and creative one, where I feel like a 'second' spectatorship; neither here nor there, entwined yet not, culpable yet not. Like a remote viewer, I'm reaching outwards, further than is physically possible, in an attempt to locate something that I can only understand in terms of 'not belonging', of being other. From that marginalised position, I begin to mediate and interrupt the dialogue of the work with my own fetishistic appropriation of what's happening 'over there'.

It's been an interesting two weeks, and something I'd like to give more thought to in the future, as Fortnight moves on. For now, though, I'm just really eager to get back in to the action.

Something lovely is coming to Bristol...

2011-03-18T05:17:00.000-07:00

www.fortnightproject.com

Lost and Found Festival- Call for ideas

2011-03-11T09:56:00.000-08:00

Here at Contact we just wanted to remind folks that they have just over a week - 18th March - to submit ideas for Contact's up-and-coming Lost & Found Festival!

We're looking for artists to submit ideas for performance and art which takes place both inside and outside of an venue - site specific performance, devised work which gathers information from the outside world, performances which take place on digital media... innovative and surprising ideas are all welcome! Sounds interesting? Well please do read on...

LOST & FOUND 2011

From Monday, June 6th to Saturday the 11th Contact will host the very first Lost & Found Festival 2011! We would like you to tell us how you would like to get involved with the festival, whether that be through a one-to-one performance, an interactive installation, anything!

Lost & Found is a festival which examines the idea that art and inspiration is found in unusual situations, locations and interactions. We are looking to curate pieces which allow audiences to stumble across art in everyday situations; lose themselves in a piece, in a place and may allow people to find that they are part of the performance.

This intricate and inspiring event will be layered with a pick-and-mix of pop up performances, taking place in various locations around the centre of Manchester throughout the week. The festival culminates in a final day of performances and art works which take place in the Contact building, having been inspired or created from collected images, stories and data from the outside world and from the subsequent week of creating around the city.

The festival will essentially take the form of two parts:

Part I
Monday - Friday Lost & Found will be staged around the city-centre at various outdoor venues:
PiccadillyGardens
A Northern Quarter Cafe
St. Peters Square
A Metrolink Tram
MediaCityUK

Part II
Day-long event at Contact throughout the entire building.

So with this in mind we would like you (although it is not absolutely required) to come up with a two part idea. One to take place outside of Contact, and the other to take place inside Contact. These can act as companion piece or as one being a response to the other.

Creative works may cross the boundaries between theatre, art, photography and digital media and in the process opening new creative opportunities and collaborations.

The idea of ‘Lost and Found’ is not only used as a curatorial theme and a spring board for discussion, but also a tactile image and framework for the event – an event which is like a lost and found box of hidden treasures. We would really like you to take this idea and run with it.

For this submission process we will be taking your ideas via e-mail until the closing date of Friday, March 18th. From there, we will have a Pitch Party at Contact on Tuesday, March 29th at 7pm @ Contact in Space 2.

If you have any questions about the festival, the submission process or any other inquiries feel free to ask.
You can reach the festival team at LostAndFound@contact-theatre.org

The members of Contact's premier young producing and programming scheme Re:Con are the creators and organizers of Lost & Found.

Thank You, Good Luck and Start Pitching!

Re:Con

Current Events and forthcoming deadlines for Opportunities

2011-03-11T09:43:00.000-08:00

Check out these events and approaching opportunities from the New Work Network:

---- Opportunities ----

* NWN Board - Call for Recruitment of New Trustees *

Do you feel passionate about the role NWN plays for artists? Would you like to be part of New Work Network’s decision-making process? New Work Network would like to recruit one of our artist members to the NWN Board of Trustees.

For more information please see the full listing of this opportunity in the

Members Area

Deadline for Applications: Wednesday 16th March 2011 at 5pm.
Shortlisted applicants will be invited to a Board Recruitment Evening on Tuesday 22nd March from 6 – 8pm

Applicants will be shortlisted against the relevance of their skills, experience and approach to strengthening our board and maintaining our commitment to professional development and artist-led culture.

* Call for applications - Information Highway - Mentoring Scheme *

Call for applications from mid career artists in the East region*.

Lead artist Gary Stevens will work with a mid-career artist to develop their practice through mentoring and support over a twelve month period.

Deadline for Applications:
Tuesday 15th March 2011 at 5pm.

Interviews will be held at Colchester Arts Centre, Church Street, Essex, CO1 1NF on 22nd March 2011
To view the full listing of this opportunity please click HERE or contact the activator coordinator for an application pack on activatorcoordinator@gmail.com
This forms part of a commissioned programme of activity created by Caroline Wright on behalf of New Work Network’s national Activator programme and Colchester Arts Centre’s Escalator: Live Art
*By the East region we mean Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Essex, Hertfordshire, Norfolk and Suffolk.
For more information please see the full listing of this opportunity in the Members Area

--- Events ---

* Talking Shop is Talking Trash *

Tuesday 15th March 2011 - 6 - 9pm
ARTS CAFÉ, TOYNBEE STUDIOS, 28 COMMERCIAL STREET, LONDON, E1 6AB

Open advice sessions and networking opportunities with New Work Network, Live Art Development Agency and Artsadmin (the Live Art Advisory Network)

The next shop will be guest hosted by Scottee, the iconic tradher-performer and artistic director of Eat Your Heart Out.

More information on this event and how to book a place please click here

* Mad Artists’ Tea Party 2: Bedford *

2-5pm Saturday 9 April 2011

Hosted by Tania Harrison (Curator of Arts Stages at Latitude Festival)

An afternoon of meeting, eating and performing for artists based in the East of England working in new practice and Live Art/ performance.
This second in a series of tea parties will by hosted by special guest Tania Harrison, Curator of the arts stages at Latitude Festival, and will consist of discussion, presentation and workshop activities.
It’s FREE and all are welcome so please come and join us at Mount Zion Pentecostal Church (upstairs hall) 145 Midland Road, Bedford MK40 1DW.
Please get in touch if you would like further details by emailing Caroline Wright on eastactivator@gmail.com.
More information on the Activator Programme click here and for further details on this event please click here.

Flare Festival - Call for performances

2011-03-04T07:05:00.000-08:00

Call for performances

Flare International Festival of New Theatre is currently accepting applications from emergent theatre makers and companies interested in presenting work in some of Manchester’s leading studio theatres, 4-9th July 2011. The deadline for applications is 8th April.

Intended as a biennial celebration of the best radical new theatre being made by Europe’s next generation of theatre makers, Flare is a new festival for Manchester, scheduled alongside the Manchester International Festival.

Full details and application forms are available on the website www.flarefestival.com

Company Mentorship Scheme 2011

2011-01-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

Proto-type Theater is delighted to announce a wonderful opportunity for one emerging young contemporary theatre/live-art company in Lancashire.

With the support of Lancashire County Council, Proto-type Theater will provide a one-year mentorship to graduate companies who completed their studies in or after summer 2008.

The 2011 Mentorship Scheme is designed to offer both emerging companies and prospective companies the chance to learn, through experience and resources, the creative and organisational aspects involved in establishing a touring company with a focus on theatre and live arts.

In the mentorship, we will offer:

• Monthly training delivered by company members and outside experts, focusing on: general company administration; successful marketing strategy and evaluation; working creatively with local communities; developing and delivering educational workshops; producing theatre, and fundraising.

• A showcase event at the end of the year for the graduate company to perform their work for the local community, key venues, and funding partners in the county and the North-West region.

• Desk space in our office, access to rehearsal space, equipment use and facilities, monthly meetings with the company, a yearly bursary and detailed feedback at work in progress showings.

Over the course of the scheme, the graduate company will:

• Create at least one piece of touring theatre
• Develop a venue pack
• Participate in the design and execution of our winter school
• Develop a mission statement and artistic policy
• Conduct at least one outreach project in one of the Lancashire districts
• Develop a website
• Draft an application to the Arts Council’s ‘Grants for the Arts’ for a future project
• Submit a report one year after the scheme that tracks their continued progress

The chosen company will be required, by the terms of the scheme, to live in Lancashire for the duration of their time with us. If you are unsure whether or not you/your company is eligible for the scheme, contact us, in the first instance, at admin@proto-type.org.

To apply for the Proto-type Theater Mentorship Scheme request an application pack from admin@proto-type.org

Deadline for applications: Tuesday 15 February 2011

Interviews: w/c Monday 28 February 2011

Proto-type Theater Mentorship Scheme is supported by Lancashire County Council.

Third Person: Bonnie & Clyde (Redux)

2011-01-12T06:38:00.000-08:00

New Year greetings from Proto-type Theater.

Third Person continues after sell out performances in 2010 at Nuffield Theatre, Lancaster, Axis Arts Centre, Crewe and the Arches, Glasgow.

Two dates for your dairy in 2011.

15 February 7:45pm Warwick Arts Centre
17 February 7:30pm Rose Theatre Omskirk

During the great depression, young lovers Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow went on an infamous three-year spree of bank robbery and murder, which ended abruptly in 1934 when they were ambushed and killed by police in Louisiana.

Nobody knows all the details, but their violent love story has become legend worldwide. Through evidence, personal stories, rumours, re-enactments, videos and drawings, the electric meeting of Bonnie and Clyde is retold, exploring the motivations that drive our fascination with the life and death of these notorious lovers.

"Proto-type Theater's Third Person: Bonnie & Clyde Redux is a charming, lyrical attempt to redeem two of history's most notorious murderers." - Kultureflash

For more information on Third Person click here

SNOW

2010-12-07T11:18:00.000-08:00

Last week I was introduced to my first proper experiences with this year’s wintry weather and, though I’m aware that a blanket of white across the North of England is hardly worthy of being deemed a natural disaster, I was reminded of how something seemingly so trivial can have such a huge impact on society.

Having had the same weather-related problems as many others last week (cancelled trains, closed roads, falling over, getting ill .etc.) I couldn’t help but think about the fine tightrope that society balances on to function. How something so primeval and literally brainless can tangle the intricate networks and systems (I’m talking mainly here about transport and communication) that we absolutely depend upon. I guess it was one of those take-for-granted-style epiphanies that we have and then forget about forever.

It seemed to me that in the process of covering the man-made streets, pavements, train tracks, buildings and roads in a seemingly ancient material, it paradoxically seemed to uncover and expose the brittleness of the infrastructure of society.

The new, soft, white de-familiarisation that greets the freshly opened morning curtains against the greyness of yesterday’s urban landscape becomes some kind of icy femme fatale; alluring, beautiful yet quietly bringing the promise of destruction and chaos after we’ve woken up next to her. Perhaps I’m overreacting a little. Or perhaps I’m not. To use the familiar contradictory language of the tabloids, it appears that the perceptions of a “winter wonderland” and a “big freeze” can co-exist side by side.

As the icy days draw on, the media will quickly turn on the misunderstood white cloak while the rhetoric of the morning papers, newsreaders and worried mothers turns to weather-related phrases containing the word “treacherous” in them. The infamous Daily Mail greeted us this morning with an article title exclaiming that “The big freeze…threatens Christmas…” as though Christmas was some kind of endangered bastion of society prevailing against the inhuman force of the weather. This was proceeded with five bullet points:

“• Hundreds of drivers trapped between Edinburgh and Glasgow
• Pensioner's body found in snow in north-east Lincolnshire
• Two cyclists killed on same road where two teenage girls died last week
• Death toll of winter weather up after man dies clearing snow
• Warnings of icy roads and freezing fog across UK
• Flight cancellations at Liverpool's John Lennon Airport”

Despite the fact that there appeared to be a subtle bathos (though I doubt it was intentional) building up to the final bullet point (hundreds of trapped drivers, a pensioner's body, two dead cyclists, the rising death toll, freezing fog, and a “flight cancellation in Liverpool’s john Lennon Airport”), this information seemed overwhelmingly grim; especially coupled with the Daily Express’ ridiculous “NOW FOOD IS RUNNING OUT” headline last week with the zombie-film-esque image of a rather impotent looking empty bread aisle in some miscellaneous branch of Co-op.

But why all this scare mongering? I guess, the weather is something that we can all relate to; something that affects each and every one of us; and therefore something for which we can fall back on socially when we “talk about the weather”. Maybe the papers moan about it so much because they simply don’t have anything better to say to us anymore, or at least anything we would rather hear. This is why (I hate to do it but it would seem a bit daft not to with all this talk of blissful ignorance) I quote Eliot;

“Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow…”

Fingers crossed for a white Christmas …

Nick

From Somewhere, With Love

2010-11-26T12:17:00.000-08:00

Having been one of the few students these days that seems to have missed out on the whole "gap year" lark, I felt that a gratuitous, altruistic trip to a desolate part of the world should be due some time soon. However, can I simply make a decision to travel somewhere purely based on the motivation of a contrived, yet heart-felt, charitable adventure? and if so, where? Which barren part of the earth deserves a Westernised English and Drama graduate to help bring peace and/or aid to their land the most? The list is endless...

Unable to placate this moral quandary, and in order to go somewhere "different", I have chosen (I think) Chernobyl, or at least Pripyat (the -now abandoned- city used to house the Chernobyl nuclear power plant workers prior to the 1986 Chernobyl disaster, and advertised on many of the tourist websites as "The Dead Town". Tasteful). They now run tours apparently. For a price, you can wander for hours around the deserted schools, houses, hospitals and post-apocalyptic streets taking trendy, futile photographs of empty swings or unmade beds. For the full experience, it is recommended that you bring your own dosimeter (a bit like a Geiger counter from school) along for the ride, to gawp at the amount of radiation you're being exposed to, and then tell your mates when you get back home. You even get lunch thrown in too!

Now I have a new plan for the summer; something for which to save my otherwise squandered pennies. However, in true "gap year" style, the question arises of how I will make the trip worthwhile? To what will this contribute? For whom will this be helping? Will I "make a difference"?

The answer is no. For there is no one there.

Maybe I'll get the tshirt while I'm there...

I write this, my first Proto-type blog post, as the new administrative assistant with the company. The position has been created with the help of the Future Jobs Fund and, having recently graduated from university in the summer, I feel extremely lucky to embark so soon on a career journey into the arts on the good ship Proto-type. Having only just started last week I am still feeling my way around, but I am enjoying this settling in process thoroughly, and am excited to get to grips with how the company operates. I am currently undergoing a training course with PANDA (Performing Arts Network and Development Agency) which has given me a chance to interact with others who are working at various other arts-based companies in Lancashire with similar FJF-funded positions to mine.

At risk of sounding cliched, but with no better phrase to hand, I feel I will have a lot to learn, but a lot to give during my time here.

Until next time.

Nick.

The Badge.

2010-11-02T12:34:00.000-07:00

I'm in turmoil, friends. The world has simply gone mad.

On September 28th, I submitted my PhD thesis. After four years of mind-breaking labour, I finally handed over what felt like my magnum-opus and waited for the ticker-tape to fall. Only, it didn't. There was no bunting, no marching band, not even a kazoo. Just me, an empty bag, and an admin person who must have seen quite a few PhD's that week. She didn't even say congratulations.

It was, in short, an experience which produced the same simmering resentment found when someone has had their birthday forgotten. You know the type: the sullen face, the inaudible mumbling from within which we might pluck the odd word or phrase, '...nobody cares...mumblemumble...real friends...mumble'. You get the idea.

So, as opposed to an overwhelming sense of triumph, I felt a little lost. But after a day or two, the fog started to clear. Bloody hell, I thought (in my best Ron Weasley voice), I've done it. I've actually done it. Here we go, time to get on with the whole life/career thing. And then came that budget.

Today, a colleague told me I would be wise to re-train as a plumber. I thought about it, and then decided against it. I don't look great in overalls, and I don't want to own a van. What it did make me think about though, is how there's a great deal of difficult decisions to be made concerning theatre education and professional practice. In my PhD, I looked in detail at the notion of judgement, of how institutions and funding bodies decide what 'good' art is, and what it is that deserves to be funded, what it is that we should be seeing. Right now, those decisions are more critical than ever.

If my understanding of the current situation is correct, we're in for a turbulent time as theatre thinkers and makers. There's always more good work than there is money to fund it, but the belt is getting tighter. As some drastic funding cuts take hold, we run the risk of seeing sanitised, state-controlled art not a million miles away from that of 1930's Russia.

Now that might seem very doom-and-gloom, but it's important to remember that if it wasn't for the art of Socialist Realism, of Laktionov and the Leningrad School, or Gerasimov and his tributes to Stalin, we might never have seen the brilliance of Svrev, Beliutin, or Rabin. The unique flavour of the Russian avant-garde in the 1960's was, unquestionably, flavoured and enriched by the conformist art it rebelled against. This sense of renewal, of the opportunity to come alive and make art that belongs to now, is the silver lining to the cloud of economic austerity.

As a reminder to everyone that out of the greatest struggle comes the sweetest success, I'm going to make some badges. On the badges will be the phrase 'I WILL MAKE ART'. My provocation to you is to email me, wes[at]proto-type.org, and ask for a badge. I'll send you one, for free. Your part of the bargain is two-fold. First, you have to wear the badge (obviously). Second, you have to make art. Big or small, public or private, it doesn't matter, just keep going. Do a little dance in your office, give it a title. Sign one of your doodles on your notepad, then stick it on the wall for all to see. Funded or un-funded, in theatres or galleries, bedrooms and bus shelters, it all counts, and the exhibition on your fridge door is just as significant as the collections of the National Gallery.

And please, whatever you do, don't leave me with a big box full of badges. That would be really depressing.

The world takes to the stage confidently... but hasn't bothered to read our script.

2010-10-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

Our final test found us back in the comforting arms of Bristol old Vic with a new addition to the team. Associate company member of Proto-type, David McBride. It was somewhat of a baptism of fire for David as we hurried him up to speed on where we left off with test 2 and plunged ourselves firmly in to the unknown- a week long version of the soon to be 'Fortnight'.

If you've managed to follow Proto-type Theater on our rather eventful journey over the last 3 months, you will be aware that we don't like to take the easy option; we like precision (like handwriting 50 A4 letters and envelopes) we like the element of surprise (like hand delivering said letter at midnight only to find ourselves on someone's driveway as they come home at midnight and ask you what you're doing sneaking about) and above all we like to be in control to ensure things run smoothly. Until, that is, the big fat world and all it stands for comes bounding in like a puppy dragging a piece of furniture from its mouth which it is intent on destroying, to draw our attention to all of the things we hadn't puppy proofed. This is not to say that we were notprepared for every eventuality during this commissioning period, but more that the things we had not considered were so far beyond the realms of reality, and the likelihood of them interfering with our work was so slight, that it wasn't worth taking in to serious consideration. And that's when we heard the hard hand of reality knocking upon our door. Death, delays, appendicitis, missing visa's, 30th birthdays, uncertain and worrying situations all.

To avoid 'spoilers' and step by step walkthrough's of what events unfolded during the final test, I thought it might be more useful to disclose what we have learned; after all, this is the final blog post and we're not only squeezing in the final test but the commission as a whole and it's irrevocable impact on our working lives from here on in!

We attempted throughout the Theatre Sandbox commission to avoid referring to the work we were making as a pervasive game or indeed as Theatre, because to do so would encourage responses from our participants in those very specific contexts. By referring to 'Fortnight' as a mere 'experience', we would leave our participants unsure of what to expect; thankfully for us, it did. However, it did mean that, to a certain extent, we were unsure exactly what it was that we were making. We knew it wasnt a game. We thought it might be theatre but to be encouraging people to create their own direction through the information they were receiving from 'Fortnight' and to allow them to determine if, when and how they engaged with the project made it difficult for us to name what it was we were creating. But more importantly, what it made us realise was that when you put something out in the world, you need to expect it's going to get messed with a little- real life will intervene and shape the experience far beyond your control.

This was a lesson learned on the first evening of the final test. A midnight delivery. Due to horrific circumstances leading to a police warning across Bristol for people to avoid leaving their houses alone after dark, we had to think better of our plan to each hire a car, drive around after midnight, creep up to people's doors and deliver them something by hand. Instead we three hopped in one car and headed out across Bristol. Now had we continued with the original plan I'm sure we may have completed the task in approximately 3 hours. As it was, team Proto crawled in to bed at approximately 06.30am on day one of the test. Not a great start to the project you might think, but actually, upon immediate reflection, we were all agreed that we felt much safer travelling with another person and perhaps it was naive of us to have believed we could do it any other way. As an aside, we also learned a valuable lesson in ascertaining where exactly in Bristol people claimed to live... or to be frank, if that area was even considered to be Bristol in the first instance!! And in addition, having admittedly been chased by a dog in the dark at approximately 3am whilst reeling up a country path to a house in the middle of nowhere, I surmise that torches are a must for any future developments of the project, as are big hunks of steak or at least a couple of cans of pedigree chum for self defence.

Other lessons learned are as follows:
-If you leave gifts for people in a public place, be prepared for one single toddler to monopolise ownership of the lot...

-Netbooks are an inadequate and unreliable form of technology. As a lecturer of mine once said: 'Technology will always fuck you up'. A wise man indeed; not everyone can read through opera glasses; popcorn burns when left under my supervision and finally, amongst other things being considered, if you invite participants to gather 'unsupervised' within spitting distance of a pub they will by their curious nature, want to communicate with you and possibly plot their own version of events. We had a pleading message from a 'representative participant' who wanted to know how much of our budget we had remaining because, as a group, they wanted to fly a single participant over to Italy for the evening because she'd never been and they thought she ought to get the opportunity; they'd included optional flight paths, airlines and costings for our perusal.

The wonderful thing about allowing such events to take place; passing the baton to the participants and letting the narrative of the experience out in to the world, is that we had no idea what would come home to us. For that group of strangers to convene, discuss and eventually hatch a plan which would push the experience to other corners of the world was exhilarating for us! They were taking it seriously. They had fully engaged. They wanted 'us', whoever they had decided 'we' were, to come along on their journey with them, to meet them and follow them on an undetermined path.

There were errors and mistakes both technical and in terms of execution of the meta-plan we were working from, but those seem to have paled in to insignificance when we realised that we were developing relationships; friendships with the participants without knowing many of them. They too had created relationships with one another and an unruly community was being born.

Hitting on the biggy, the commission as a whole, what we feel must be communicated most strongly is that another community has been born. Equally unruly and unpredictable in nature, the Theatre Sandbox community has weaved its way in many directions both creatively and geographically, sucking up new and unsuspecting participants along the way. Six diverse practices have been brought to the brink, stretched, put out in to the world and been irrevocably altered. Six venue/ artist relationships have evolved which, for the best part, will remain solid and relentless. A supportive and caring community has been founded and that sense of good practice and support is the final lesson learned by Proto-type Theater along this journey. Our expectations have been raised. Not just of ourselves but of what commissioning should be and what venue support should. Bristol Old Vic and Kate Y in particular have moved beyond venue support to collaborators in our development of the work. We are currently re-evaluating existing relationships in light of our experiences over the last 3 months as we have been encouraged to realise that just as Cheryl Cole would have us believe, 'we're worth it'. We take this mantra with us going forward with 'Fortnight' which we hope will be out in the world in its entirety in Autumn 2011, and we cant wait to see what hurdles are thrown our way next time!

Administrative Assistant Vacancy

2010-09-17T15:06:00.000-07:00

- Have you been in receipt of Job Seekers Allowance for 6-10 months?

- Are you aged 18-24?

If you can answer yes to both questions, you are eligible to apply for Proto-type Theater’s Administrative Assistant vacancy funded through Future Job Funds.

Proto-type Theater is a company of multi disciplinary artists creating original work. Our work is demanding and intricately crafted to create experiences for a diverse audience. We have a part time administrative assistant post to work with us in developing our company. This is an exciting opportunity for the right person to assist with the running of a professional touring theatre company and benefit audiences across the UK. The assistant will be mentored by company members and our administrative producer.

They will assist with all aspects of running the company including working in the following areas and others as required:

- Assisting with the development of an education programme to be delivered in the local community and throughout Lancashire

- Coordination of and assistance with the delivery of education workshops within the local community.

- Tour planning to reach new audiences across the UK and assistance with booking accommodation, travel, etc.

- Assistance with coordinating fundraising applications and reports to enable us to reach out into the community.

- Marketing assistance and general office administration.

The post is for 6 months, 25 hours per week with occasional nights/weekends to attend events.

Proto-type is flexible about working from off-site for some of these hours, but will require at least half of the time per week to happen in our offices at the Storey Creative Industries Centre, Lancaster.

Salary is national minimum wage.

Applicants will have to check eligibility with their local Job Centre and if so, ask the Job Centre to refer you.

Post Ref number. LAC/46583

Visit www.proto-type.org

Ephemera from test v1.2 Sept 6-8 2010

2010-09-07T09:45:00.000-07:00

This blog post is also over on our theatre sandbox blog...but we wanted it to be here to for good measure.

*SPOLIER ALERT* This post will definitely ruin things for anyone planning on signing up for future versions of Fortnight, so do not read if you don’t want to spoil the magic…
**SERIOUSLY. DON’T READ THIS IF YOU PLAN ON DOING IT EVER**
***THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING***
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We are in the midst of our second test of Fortnight, this time with many elements of our technology in place (although not all – and not all connected). I thought it might be nice to share a bit of the documentation we have been collecting for anyone far and wide who won’t be in any of the cities it will eventually land in…
The image below is of the RFID-encoded badges that participants were given on day one. On the other side, was a bird. Everyone had a different kind…

Participants were asked to wear their badges visibly during the entire test period, as a way of being able to identify each other, and also to ensure they had them with them for the various ‘optional tasks’ that were set for them. Here is Kate displaying hers:

The badges allowed participants to access what we have called ‘physical task portals’ -which basically means objects that have a small interaction and that result in some kind of triggered content. One example was a set of opera glasses at the Bristol Old Vic. Participants were invited to place their badge on the tag. When they did so, a short opera clip played and they were given an empty popcorn bag..inside of which was an opera ticket with a password protected URL. The password on the back of the ticket allowed them to see a special video clip online that relates to the opera and to Bristol. Here is what the test version of the portal looked like:

On the first day, participants were told to keep their eyes out for things in the city. One of the things that they might have seen are ducks that were placed in the King George fountain near the water stairs. We dropped a bunch of them in at night and replenished throughout the day. The ducks had a URL on them and participants were texted with a password and a nudge to maybe look for them. If they did, they would get to see a short online film about the ducks… Here is a little glimpse of a lone duck swimming (she’s hiding on the other side):

Throughout the test period, we also had three posters placed around the city that invited people to sms or use a QR reader to respond to a prompt we set. The interaction wasn’t quite right, but its close. Some of the way the posters worked was still manual for this test, and that proved tricky to manage…and a few key pieces of information were missing for participants, but we’re straightening that out too. We also want many more; three was not quite enough. Here is what the one at the Bristol Old Vic looked like:

And finally, for a glimpse into the chaos of our headquarters, here is a shot of Gillian with various pieces of portal, set dressing and technology in the process of being assembled. It might look chaotic, but it was a well-oiled machine (more or less):

We have one more day to go, but so far, so good on the technical side.
On the health-side, the Bristol curse seems to be carrying on as Rachel has had to head back to Lancaster for health reasons. Seems the bug we thought she kicked from last time she was here has come back and landed her in A&E. The thought of having a repeat visit to the Royal Infirmary in Bristol was enough to send a poorly Rachel on a train back to Lancaster where the services are less Victorian. We are all sending love and hearts that she gets better soon.

New Blog Post...somewhere else!

2010-09-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

We've been a bit (frantic) busy preparing for a test of our Fortnight project down in Bristol so have been slightly quiet on the blog front. We have, however, posted a little something about it over on the Theatre Sandbox website. Have a look if you have the time.

Introduction to Fortnight - VIDEO

2010-08-13T06:43:00.001-07:00

The lovely folks over at iShed have posted a video that was shot back in July at the first Theatre Sandbox meeting. Its of me chatting about what Fortnight is meant to be about. Of course, things will change, but it gives a good overview of why we are doing this project and what we think it might be. Check it out by clicking the image below:

'Proto-type Theater Sandbox Commission 2010: Modern Warfare'

2010-08-12T01:20:00.000-07:00

I learned an interesting fact today. One that I feel I should have known but did not. I learned this fact whilst watching my boyfriend unleash all manner of terror on the city of Liberty in ‘Grand Theft Auto’ …he has asked me to mention the fact that he is a former Tekken tournament winner and is an accomplished Super Street Fighter IV player also, as he is embarrassed that you may judge him on his choice of experience. Pffff. Gaming ego… During this adrenaline fuelled frenzy, he managed to communicate that this game is referred to as a ‘Sandbox’ game… for the first time since the x-box was switched on this morning, he had my attention.

So, in a video gaming context, Sandbox is a term which is applied to a particular form of game environment in which you can roam freely and explore without purpose, but which can also have side quests that, should you choose to do them, can allow you access to new and exciting levels. With the example of Grand Theft Auto, the more attention you draw to your gaming self, the more notorious you become and the higher your status. The higher your status within the game, the more ‘stuff’ you are awarded: bigger guns, nicer cars, better looking women and an army chasing your tail instead of, say, a community policeman. This notion of collecting information, completing or fulfilling something in an attempt to move forward (or sideways) or further in to a world is something, which I feel I can relate to. Real life is a constant negotiation and reasoning of what fits where and what has the greater or lesser ramification to a particular situation. As a company, we ‘make’ in the same way: striving towards an end point but always willing to explore all avenues of possible interest or intrigue (sadly as an individual, I don’t always have a great enough sense of awareness to consider my own movements and decisions as logically as I would were I sitting on the outside watching myself, with a can of something chilled at my side and a controller in my hand!) We’ve had an interesting time of it these last few weeks in our respective lives. I have been living on Virgin trains back to back, Wes has been in lock down engaging only with Kant and anyone else who has challenging theories on beauty and the sublime (any takers?!) Peter has been clocking up the air miles as best he can whilst considering cognitive science and the creation of space within our heads and Rachel has been investigating the NHS from the inside…Not to mention developing The Fortnight Project throughout.

So today’s epiphany has enlightened me twofold:

1. I always understood the connection of the title of the commission to an actual sand box; play to our hearts content within a confined environment whilst engaging in a non-linear fashion, but I wasn’t aware that the term ‘Theatre Sandbox Commission’ had greater affiliations to the gaming world (and more specifically, video games).

2. As I mentioned at the event last week in Bristol, we have been actively avoiding the use of gaming rhetoric in an attempt to immerse ourselves in the making of theatre as opposed to a game with theatrical elements. We have intentionally deviated from possible ‘task/reward’, ‘End of level bosses’ and ‘ranking system’ structures as featured in gaming. This, we are pleased to announce, is going well and we are all very excited about the developments we’ve made. However, having considered more thoroughly the structure of a sandbox game, it would appear that whilst avoiding creating a theatre ‘game’, we have been immersed steadfastly in one. It’s as though some external observer has in fact been playing the game ‘Proto-type Theater Sandbox Commission 2010: Modern Warfare’ in which Peter, Rachel, myself and Wes are all ‘selectable’ pawns.

Yes, in an attempt to create the non-gaming ‘Fortnight Project’ we have been engaging in the real world’s real life sand box, unwittingly completing quests the rewards of which have been in the form of experiences. These have informed and developed our understanding of what we are creating in ‘Fortnight’. The ‘game’ of reality informing the theatrical experience. This is the objective of the game that we have found ourselves in.

One of our objectives with the Fortnight project has always been to create a multi platform, multi narrative, multi media, multi city performance which unfolds in real time for its participants, and one of the focuses for us has been the relationship between the global and the local. In our first blog, Peter discussed having to head from the UK to the US at very short notice. At the time the situation threw us all in to emergency mode, quickly reallocating workloads and rearranging travel plans and adapting to the unexpected. Despite dealing with the logistics swiftly, Peter also had to contend with the loss of a family member and with being so far from home during a family bereavement. Previously we had discussed what it means to be separated by geography but relocated through the use of different forms of pervasive media. All of the theories which we’d formed in relation to that changed for Peter as he stood on one side of the Atlantic (a seven hour flight away from his family) wishing himself over to the other side. This forced us all to reconsider what communication is and why and when we have it and what form is suitable or in factnecessary. A picture message versus a Skype message versus a telephone call versus a face-to-face discussion versus ‘being there’ versus quietly, just holding someone. We learned that sometimes, geographical closeness is necessary and so is silence. This journey of Peter’s had a deep seated impact in our understanding of what global and local mean to us and how this new found understanding can help us to move forward with the project in a more enlightened way. As it transpired, this was the first mission.

Following the last peer event at the Watershed, Rachel became very unwell. Let’s say she ‘uncovered a portal’ that led us to some alternative content, one which initially neither of us wanted to experience. Instead of an early night, we encountered an out of hours doctor. Two Paramedics (who were more overwhelmed by the doctor’s lovely handwriting than Rachel’s ‘situation’). An ambulance (this was less exciting for Rachel than it was for me. I had never been in an ambulance before and was, albeit witnessing Rachel thrashing about like she needed exorcising, enjoying it a little bit.) and finally the surgery department of Bristol Royal Infirmary. First bed on the right, Ward 14 C, Level 6. This was to be the level on which we encountered our next mission and I was alerted to this by the fact that Rachel was given a barcode, QR coded ID bracelet. A complete give away!

As this mission was set in a hospital with levels and an architectural similarity to games with which I am more familiar (Pac-Man for example) I feel obliged to visualise and describe it in those terms…

It transpired, after much deliberation between the hospital staff, that Rachel’s appendix needed to be removed and we both had an opportunity to level up. Rachel had to engage in side quest ‘Appendix removal’ and I had to engage in side quest ‘remain in Ward 14 C’. Both quests had their difficulty ratings. Rachel’s appendix may not have been the cause of her crippling pain in which case she would have to undergo further investigative surgery and remain on level 6. I could leave Level 6 at any given point in time, but if I chose the wrong exit, I could forego entry back in to level 6 and find my only option to be returning to level 1 by the stair case. Tricky one. After a couple of hours on watch in Ward 14 C, I was informed that Rachel’s appendix had been successfully removed. She was remaining on level 6. Never one to turn my back on a challenge, I stuck it out on Ward 14 C for another 3 hours to await the return of my comrade and I’m glad I did, for that’s where I found the additional content required to complete mission 2.

The last room on the right in Ward 14 C, housed 4 unlikely characters. A 68 year old woman who had fallen and broken both wrists whilst smashing her face on the pavement. She couldn’t hold anything and was very thirsty. A 48 year old woman called Tracy, who had crippling stomach pains. She had been given the wrong dose of Ritalin and was finding it very difficult to communicate calmly with the nursing staff. A 29 year old woman also suffering from crippling stomach pains, experiencing her first night without either of her children who are now aged 8 and 6 years respectively. Over the course of one evening in the ward, the four of us were bound together on a waiting mission (no more 1980’s style gaming lingo, I promise!) for the only talkative patient to return from surgery; (d) Miss Rachel Baynton. During our wait I began chatting with Tracy. She mentioned that she is autistic and was embarrassed at having verbally attacked each of the staff members but that she couldn’t control her behaviour due to the level of medication mixing with her Ritalin. We left the room to get some air and managed to find some straws, allowing the broken wristed lady to sip water enough to take her medication. The three of us managed to convince the lady who’s children were too young to visit her on the ward, to pull her bed curtain open and have some tea and toast with us. We began sharing photographs on phones and watching movies on an iPod and discussing pain thresholds and introducing friends and family as they came and went during visiting hours. We discussed theatre and what it was. Tracy explained that for her theatre is something that you must sit down and watch. I asked her why. She replied that ‘that’s just the way it’s always been’ I explained how the ‘Fortnight Project’ will be theatre which unfolds in real time in real places as opposed to in a theatre with the auditorium lights switched safely off. She seemed satisfied that this was plausible (which was a huge relief to me!) and that she’d like to do it. We mused over what we each considered to be the highlights of Bristol and although each of us said something different, the commonality emerged that each highlight of Bristol was inextricably linked to a moment of nostalgia. We were making memories there and then, sat on itchy hospital blankets eating anaemic toast and overly sugary jam. We formed a bond in that short while that Rachel was unconscious, ‘picking up health’. We formed a community.

Jo Reid spoke eloquently about creating communities at the last peer event, reminding us that ‘test groups’ are not just for Christmas, they’re for the life of the project; that they should be involved before the work begins to allow them an insight in to and ownership of what is being created, and that the best way to ensure your model is being tested properly, is knowing that the participants have developed a personal investment in what you are making with no requirement of a monetary incentive or indeed ‘a cup of tea and a biscuit’ (or in my case a cup of tea and overly pale toast!) Something that we failed to consider is the way in which we manage ourselves succinctly in to small groupings and communities when left to our own devices. That we can encourage the making of communities but that they will always find a way of creating themselves, by finding commonality that joins people together. In terms of development of our project, it had been an eye opener to encounter four extremely different women with very different outlooks on life, all laid up in hospital sharing an experience which they would rather not be experiencing. Communities will start to form themselves in the most unorthodox manner and context and I’m excited to embrace them.

So, ‘Proto-type Theater Sandbox Commission 2010: Modern Warfare’ is already underway it would seem, without us having realised it, informing the development of our non-gaming theatre project. We’ve reconsidered our notion of the global and the local, and our sense of community has been reignited and reconfigured with the additional swift reminder that the phenomenon of ‘circumstance’ can help to immerse our participants more fully in to our project. My only concern remains thus: Who’s next in line for a deviation from the trajectory? Because its looking like its me or Wes. And considering that I’m off to Bristol next week (from where our missions seem to be emerging) and Wes is not, then it’s going to be me and I’m not sure that I can work through another transatlantic trip or stay in hospital. Be kind, gods of the game, and give me a cheat sheet or something?

Aesthetic Adventures in the Everyday

2010-08-09T02:39:00.000-07:00

In Truth and Method, Hans-Georg Gadamer wrote about the notion of 'adventure'. An adventure, he argued:

Interrupts the customary course of events, but is positively and significantly related to the context which it interrupts. Thus an adventure lets life be felt as a whole, in its breadth and in its strength. Here lies the fascination of an adventure. It removes the conditions and obligations of everyday life. It ventures out into the uncertain. But at the same time it knows that, as an adventure, it is exceptional and thus remains related to the return of the everyday, into which adventure cannot be taken. Thus the adventure is “undergone”, like a test or trial from which one emerges enriched and more mature.

(Gadamer, 2004: 60)

I recently wrote about this notion of adventure in greater detail, and explored what I perceived to be an analogous relationship between the Gadamerian adventure and aesthetic experience. In relation to theatre and performance specifically, I wondered whether or not aesthetic 'experience' is something which stands-out from, or seems extra-ordinary to, the experience of a performance in general: a momentary image created by bodies in motion; the light fading on an object; an electric silence.

These past few weeks, that notion has been coming back to me again and again. We've been performing our piece Third Person: Bonnie and Clyde (redux) at Soho Theatre, and making best use of our days by developingFortnight. As we continue to develop the structure of our first week, much of our discussion is gravitated around how we establish and maintain certain rhythms, atmospheres, and waves of feeling over such a protracted period.

In many of our previous performance works, including Third Person, shifts in tempo, composition, clarity and intensity can be finely constructed and tuned so that the 'adventure' of aesthetic experience might transport the spectator into contemplative and imaginative reflection at any given moment.

But how do those strategies for making translate into a performance work that lasts for two weeks? And moreover, one which is being intentionally constructed to sit in-and-among the fabric of people's daily lives. If the Gadamerian idea of adventure has any similarity with aesthetic engagement, then our approach to Fortnight must be one in which its daily interventions define themselves as something more profound than an aesthetics of the everyday.

Indeed, there is perhaps something counterintuitive in thinking about experience as aesthetic qua aesthetic in a performance context that might be more at home with an aesthetics of walking, urban spaces, or the everyday. But there remains something powerful and attractive about the prospect of an experience which 'removes the conditions and obligations of everyday life', especially when those experiences paradoxically occur within the structures of daily circumstance.

The problem, then, is this: how can a performance exist within the fabric of the everyday whilst constructing experiences which propose to throw off those shackles? I don't know if I can give a complete answer here, or indeed if I'm asking the right question in the first place. What I do know is that we've started to play with a tactic that seeks to bridge this delicate gap. I'm not going to give too much away, because that'll spoil all the fun, but my sound academic upbringing compels me to 'provide an example which will illustrate my point'. With that in mind then, here comes a very slight spoiler.

**SPOILER ALERT**

An early communication compares the city to a working film set, which, in a way, sums up much of what we're thinking about right now. An SMS message reads:

When you walk do you daydream? Moving through the city is like walking through a film set. You could be in ‘The Birds’ right now: to your left Tippi Hedren is running into her house; on your right, a boom operator stretches his microphone to catch her screams; in front of you the gap between the film set and the real world.

In cinema, after the final edit, the film set is transformed to place of fantasy and imagination, a place where a story is told, or where a climactic event takes place. In the making though, the film set is cluttered with microphones, cameras, lights, and a multitude of bodies that make the 'magic' possible. In Fortnight (at least right now), the city and its inhabitants occupy both the final film and the working set, the place of fantasy and labour, at the same time. Through this, the city space itself becomes subtly aestheticised, but in a fragile, paper-thin kind of way. The moments of fantasy, of imaginative speculation are like the 'adventure', which 'knows that, as an adventure, it is exceptional and thus remains related to the return of the everyday'.

Of course, this is just one moment of many, and can't be taken as indicative of the whole experience. Nevertheless, I think we are starting to uncover a performance which retains the extra-ordinary possibilities of theatrical experience whilst, just like the adventure, 'is positively and significantly related to the context which it interrupts'.

*Proto-type Lab*