Food Rescue Missioning 3rd November 2020
Once Saturday nights meant parties and pubs, Netflix and bottles of wine. These days you’ll find me out the back of *posh supermarket* in the dark, amid squashed cardboard box cubes and empty green plastic crates, waiting. I’m by my cargo bike, poised, bags ready, face mask on, helmet flashing as the shop closes. A store manager wheels the crates out and there’s always a joke about how I’ll never fit all of that on the bike. But I always do. I’m determined not to leave anything behind. Ready meals tuck under the seat, and anything heavy like tins or trays of potatoes goes at the bottom. Then there’s the bread and pastries, so many pastries. One bag for boxes of eggs- one is smashed- but the rest are good. Meat goes in another bag. One night I picked up five roast chickens. Last week I got five legs of lamb - headed for the bin! I collect sarnies and salads in another bag hung from the handlebars as they need to be given out tonight. After taking everything else to the sorting station I will try to hand them in at a shelter or hostel but it depends if they’ve already had a big *posh sandwich shop* delivery earlier. I reserve my panniers at the back for the flowers. I often get a bunch of these to take home as a perk. They’re shared among the volunteers and given to a flower arranging society who make a donation to the project that helps with running costs.
I cycle my bounty through the empty retail park car park and slip onto the cycle path. My tyres crunch cracked glass. Groups of hoodies and late night dog walkers give the bike a second take. I probably wouldn’t usually venture here so late, but the task gives me a sense of importance. I am a daring, fearless night rider on a rescue mission! Sometimes I see coat-less children out too late and I worry that they are hungry. I think about stopping to offer them food. But that’s not how it’s done.
How is it done? In this country those with the money get to have exactly what they want. Every kind of food is available, pre-prepared for your convenience. Food made to generate profit, not to nourish bodies. Packed in single use plastics with extended shelf life and false claims exaggerating taste, or nutrition or quality. Those without money, perhaps without homes and kitchens, they get the leftovers. If there are any. If volunteers go out in the rain and the dark, if other volunteers do the sorting, and then presumably if others deliver. If all these dots connect, they can get an out of date frozen beef lasagne. To be microwaved. If you have a microwave. And if not, well...
The path connects up with the prom, and as I pedal by the sea, I’m thinking about what would happen if food distribution was reimagined. We would surely feed the most vulnerable before everyone else, right? My children get first helpings and I often eat the crusts. Those who have the means can afford to be more creative with what is left to ensure that nothing is wasted.
The bike is heavy to pedal. I wonder what it would cost if we bleeped this food through the checkout at full price? Hundreds of pounds. This is just one shop. How many are there in this city? Most aren’t collected from. I think about the flowers, grown, transported (flown?) here never to see a vase. Exotic fruit never placed in a bowl. I think about the three fish platters; smoked salmon, Madagascan tiger prawns, peppered mackerel and crab. A pricey treat earlier today but it will illegal to give it away in a couple of hours. I pedal harder.
If there’s enough, I’ll take home a couple of croissants as a treat for the kids. I've been avoiding buying them because of the palm oil... but if we’re saving it from the bin... My son fussy about food. The health visitor says it is normal toddler behaviour and will pass. I get anxiety about potential potato waffle shortages. He wants to have control, he wants to have familiarity. It’s like we never grow out of that. People think they are entitled to eat what they want. Regardless of the season, this year’s harvest or the local availability.
Nearly there now. Pubs are closed because of lockdown so the streets are unusually quiet for a Saturday night. I bump the heavy bike up the curb outside the collection hub. All the food is brought here so masked volunteers can sort through it to share among different charities. Music, lights and laughter spill into the street “nowhere else for single ladies to be these days!” jokes one. They wheel out trolleys to help me unload the bike. An unusual amount of parsnips and pineapples tonight apparently. It’s so random. One time they had over 80 watermelons!
The bike feels lighter on the way home. I’m full of endorphins from the exercise and the good deed. Undoubtedly the most useful thing I’ve done this week.
Maya and the Whale 10th July 2020
Here is an extract from the introduction for a new play I have written called Maya and The Whale. I would love to share the script, please ask if it has peaked your interest...
This show about smallness facing up to hugeness.
Specifically, individual young people facing the enormity of our Climate Crisis.
What would it take for things to change?
Sadly, it is not possible to write a play that solves the Climate Crisis. Or even simplifies it.
It is a tangled, complicated, messy issue and we are all learning more about it all the time.
Many have given up hope completely.
I still have hope.
Messy hope.
This show is written for a solo performer.
The staging must be simple enough for the show to travel by bike or public transport.
What if, instead of touring one cast, several performers could simultaneously tour venues that are local to them?
What if those performers came from a wide range of backgrounds? What if marginalised voices were represented among these performers? There is no reason why this play could not be performed by humans of any race, gender identification, age or body shape.
I’d like to invite performers to make the script their own. Where that involves significant changes to the story, e.g. if the performer has a specific disability that alters Maya’s circumstances, I’d love to be involved in tailoring it.
This show about smallness facing up to hugeness.
Specifically, individual young people facing the enormity of our Climate Crisis.
What would it take for things to change?
Sadly, it is not possible to write a play that solves the Climate Crisis. Or even simplifies it.
It is a tangled, complicated, messy issue and we are all learning more about it all the time.
Many have given up hope completely.
I still have hope.
Messy hope.
This show is written for a solo performer.
The staging must be simple enough for the show to travel by bike or public transport.
What if, instead of touring one cast, several performers could simultaneously tour venues that are local to them?
What if those performers came from a wide range of backgrounds? What if marginalised voices were represented among these performers? There is no reason why this play could not be performed by humans of any race, gender identification, age or body shape.
I’d like to invite performers to make the script their own. Where that involves significant changes to the story, e.g. if the performer has a specific disability that alters Maya’s circumstances, I’d love to be involved in tailoring it.
100 Conversations 4th June 2019
I started the CliMates project, and after around 20 conversations, I realised I am going to record 100 conversations about Climate Change. Check out my CliMates project update to hear more how that's going.
Why 100?
I need an end point.
I like a challenge.
It is a lot.
I need to speak to people.
I need to be part of a community.
I want to learn about listening.
My volunteers are getting something out of it too.
I don't really know about hashtags, but it sounds like a catchy hashtag. Just need to find the hashtag key on my keyboard and I'll be all over that hashtag.
Hopefully by the end I will be really articulate in it!
Maybe then I'll have 100 conversations about other stuff. Maybe it's my thing. 100 Conversations about divorce would be interesting. Or 100 conversations about friendship.
Or maybe I'll feel like I just need to stop talking about action and take action. Maybe I'll go quiet for a while, grow some stuff. We'll see.
I'm beginning to realise how powerful conversation can be.
Why 100?
I need an end point.
I like a challenge.
It is a lot.
I need to speak to people.
I need to be part of a community.
I want to learn about listening.
My volunteers are getting something out of it too.
I don't really know about hashtags, but it sounds like a catchy hashtag. Just need to find the hashtag key on my keyboard and I'll be all over that hashtag.
Hopefully by the end I will be really articulate in it!
Maybe then I'll have 100 conversations about other stuff. Maybe it's my thing. 100 Conversations about divorce would be interesting. Or 100 conversations about friendship.
Or maybe I'll feel like I just need to stop talking about action and take action. Maybe I'll go quiet for a while, grow some stuff. We'll see.
I'm beginning to realise how powerful conversation can be.
Awakening in a Tent Easter 2019
Lying in our canvas cave, the baby snuggling at my breast. The toddler curled into my husband for warmth. We are like a family of rodents in our nest- but with breathable synthetic fibres, thermarests and pillows from home in place of dirt, decaying leaves and soft mousebelly fur.
I cannot sleep. Nature is loud. Wood pigeons, cows, cockerel and a skylark that sings on the inhalation as well as the exhalation.
After months of mornings being roused mid-dream by one infant or the other the peace is unusual. Like birds feeding ever open beaks of their chicks; I’ve barely paused since we became broody. I’m constantly busy gathering and dishing out nutrition, comfort and care. Washing, tending, tidying, feeding, singing, storytelling and making sure their little lives are filled with love, laughter, exercise and this: nature. That’s why we’ve come. A break from screens and screams, from walls to be driven up and double glazed, sound proof blackout blind eyes on the world.
We want you to have the muddy knees, the biting bugs and stinging bees, the making dens and climbing trees, the marshmallows on sticks in fires and encounters with campsite invading badgers that we had. But it’s been a while. And we have forgotten things.
I forgot about the total dark you encounter when your eyes manage to escape the enchanting draw of glowing embers. I forgot the depth of the star scattered sky, attracting the imagination by force of cosmic gravity.
But it isn’t just the owl calls that keep me awake this night.
I’m recalling tentative conversations climbing uphill with friends. Picking our way over rocks and through the tricky subject of climate change, or breakdown, or crisis, or whatever name gives us the best grip of the slippy situation. We try and apply the wisdom and knowledge afforded to us thus far in our lives, but it doesn’t quite seem to cover even a patch of what we are faced with. Between us we possess minds that have expanded to hold PHD thesis, confidence that has created new business, compassion that has helped thousands of foreign strangers, yet we struggle to enter the baffling realm of impending planetary doom.
We carry small children on shoulders, on our chests and in our bellies and we feel the weight responsibility and accountability.
It is light, but for a few hours humanity rests and the world belongs to the animals, insects and birds. Little lizards emerge from cracks in walls, butterflies escape cocoons and the shy horse eats the slightly longer grass on our side of the field while the campsite is sleeping.
The tent glows in the early morning light. I admire the modern technical fabric, condensation doesn’t gather in corners, despite four breathing bodies. This is its first outing; it still has the tags. Bought at the end of last season on sale. I think to myself I am glad we bought this tent, before I have to stop buying things like this which are non-essential.
For over 30 years I have been exposed to advertising and culture that makes me believe I need a holiday. I deserve to fly to a beach somewhere at least once a year to sit in the sunshine and relax.
I do want to have holidays, to be able to get away and not think about work, I do need these golden family days and to return with fresh perspective, don’t I? This holiday is about as ‘low-carbon’ as possible. Only one-hour long drive from home, squashed into our medium sized car, we are completely unplugged and there is nothing to buy here except apple juice squeezed from the fruit of the trees we sleep under. Yet I wonder who stitched this tent. I imagine the skilled Chinese fingers who tied the guy ropes in tidy knots. The Chinese lungs breathing in petrochemical fumes created in synthesising polymers for ‘breathable fabric’ so I can lye here breathing oxygen photosynthesised by the grass inches from my nose.
I imagine the tetra pack from our UHT milk floating in the ocean long after my own body has decomposed. The milk we brought to keep fresh in our cool box because we can’t drink tea without it, even for a few days. After a thousand years of floating around the ocean- will it one day meet the packets from our individually wrapped croissants? The croissants we bought for a holiday treat, and made excuses for because it’s just easier when you are travelling isn’t it? Perhaps they will get tangled up on a beach together somewhere in the seaweed and fondly remember the day they were used for a camping breakfast, that unusually hot Easter in Scotland in 2019. The day we thought how lucky we were to have the sunshine at this time of year. The day when we had a whiff of what was about to come, but it might have just been rapeseed pollen, or particulates in the air.
Beside me in our double sleeping bag my daughter stirs and gropes for my breast to nuzzle in hungrily. I saw a lamb do something very similar to their mother sheep earlier. The lambs are painted with the same number as the mother, like the tags they put on both of us at the hospital the morning you were born.
The bounding, tottery lambs remind me of my son. He still displays uninhibited awe at the world; he points out spider’s webs, cow pats, and litter with equal astonishment. He tries to feed grass to his baby sister. He is working out his place in the world, learning his full name and his address, and asking why?
Whats that mummy?
A worm
What’s worm doing?
Eating soil
Why?
Decomposition. You know like compost.
Why?
It’s an essential part of a delicately balanced ecosystem.
Why?
We all are.
Why?
All life is interlinked.
Why?
(sigh) It turns the soil into poo soil.
Poo-soil! Why poo soil?
It just does.
Camping awakens my apocalyptic imagination. If I had to survive without the comforts that I’m accustomed to, how would I fare? What are the essentials? Do I have the skills to make fire, stay warm, keep my family fed and dry? OK, so we stopped at the supermarket on the way and this campsite has clean toilets- but I imagine that I’m brushing up on the forest survival techniques of my ancestors. I must impart this bravery to my children, let them not be afraid of sleeping outside. Teach them to eat nettles, blueberries, sorrel and wild garlic. To whittle green wood, burn seasoned wood and find drinkable wild water that isn’t from bottles.
I read it takes five times the amount of water in a bottle of bottled water to produce and transport the bottle of water. When I went for a run yesterday, I forgot to take my water bottle, and I was thirsty after breastfeeding and sitting by an open fire the night before. I passed so many trickling streams, but I was scared to drink from them. What have we done to you Earth that here, so far from a city, I can’t trust this mountain water is safe? Is it paranoia? Or a truth that we poisoned you and so I’m scared you would poison me. How many generations has it been since we stopped having the basic skill of finding safe drinking water in the forest?
A cockerel crows, a tent unzips. Pyjama trousers moisten with morning dew shuffling to the toilet block. The sun has yet to warm the grass and evaporate teardrops of the night adorning webs and leaves. I remember as a child poking and blowing at the embers of the previous evening’s fire to try and resurrect the flame next morning. There is a primal instinct to keep hypnotic fires alight, fascinated by the flicker, not realising until too late that there is nothing left to burn.
I heard this week that Drax power station burns wood pellets made from irreplaceable, ancient forests to supply the national grid. How dare we? I never imagined. My phone charged with this guilty energy. What must I do differently now I know this? How can I wean myself away from this criminal consumption?
We change both children’s disposable night time nappies and bag them for landfill. We search through plastic bags to find muesli and melamine bowls, and fumble with our stove to boil water for coffee. Our neighbours fry bacon on their grill. The noise of human activity reigns and birdsong becomes the backing track to chatter, children, and early morning industry. There’s a sense of relief in the campsite, we have made it through the night. We were slightly restless of course, a few children sobbing but soon comforted, and it was not as cold as we imagined it might be. Dark thoughts of a Climate Crisis that keep us awake at night can be put aside for another day now, can’t they? It is a bank holiday after all.
I cannot sleep. Nature is loud. Wood pigeons, cows, cockerel and a skylark that sings on the inhalation as well as the exhalation.
After months of mornings being roused mid-dream by one infant or the other the peace is unusual. Like birds feeding ever open beaks of their chicks; I’ve barely paused since we became broody. I’m constantly busy gathering and dishing out nutrition, comfort and care. Washing, tending, tidying, feeding, singing, storytelling and making sure their little lives are filled with love, laughter, exercise and this: nature. That’s why we’ve come. A break from screens and screams, from walls to be driven up and double glazed, sound proof blackout blind eyes on the world.
We want you to have the muddy knees, the biting bugs and stinging bees, the making dens and climbing trees, the marshmallows on sticks in fires and encounters with campsite invading badgers that we had. But it’s been a while. And we have forgotten things.
I forgot about the total dark you encounter when your eyes manage to escape the enchanting draw of glowing embers. I forgot the depth of the star scattered sky, attracting the imagination by force of cosmic gravity.
But it isn’t just the owl calls that keep me awake this night.
I’m recalling tentative conversations climbing uphill with friends. Picking our way over rocks and through the tricky subject of climate change, or breakdown, or crisis, or whatever name gives us the best grip of the slippy situation. We try and apply the wisdom and knowledge afforded to us thus far in our lives, but it doesn’t quite seem to cover even a patch of what we are faced with. Between us we possess minds that have expanded to hold PHD thesis, confidence that has created new business, compassion that has helped thousands of foreign strangers, yet we struggle to enter the baffling realm of impending planetary doom.
We carry small children on shoulders, on our chests and in our bellies and we feel the weight responsibility and accountability.
It is light, but for a few hours humanity rests and the world belongs to the animals, insects and birds. Little lizards emerge from cracks in walls, butterflies escape cocoons and the shy horse eats the slightly longer grass on our side of the field while the campsite is sleeping.
The tent glows in the early morning light. I admire the modern technical fabric, condensation doesn’t gather in corners, despite four breathing bodies. This is its first outing; it still has the tags. Bought at the end of last season on sale. I think to myself I am glad we bought this tent, before I have to stop buying things like this which are non-essential.
For over 30 years I have been exposed to advertising and culture that makes me believe I need a holiday. I deserve to fly to a beach somewhere at least once a year to sit in the sunshine and relax.
I do want to have holidays, to be able to get away and not think about work, I do need these golden family days and to return with fresh perspective, don’t I? This holiday is about as ‘low-carbon’ as possible. Only one-hour long drive from home, squashed into our medium sized car, we are completely unplugged and there is nothing to buy here except apple juice squeezed from the fruit of the trees we sleep under. Yet I wonder who stitched this tent. I imagine the skilled Chinese fingers who tied the guy ropes in tidy knots. The Chinese lungs breathing in petrochemical fumes created in synthesising polymers for ‘breathable fabric’ so I can lye here breathing oxygen photosynthesised by the grass inches from my nose.
I imagine the tetra pack from our UHT milk floating in the ocean long after my own body has decomposed. The milk we brought to keep fresh in our cool box because we can’t drink tea without it, even for a few days. After a thousand years of floating around the ocean- will it one day meet the packets from our individually wrapped croissants? The croissants we bought for a holiday treat, and made excuses for because it’s just easier when you are travelling isn’t it? Perhaps they will get tangled up on a beach together somewhere in the seaweed and fondly remember the day they were used for a camping breakfast, that unusually hot Easter in Scotland in 2019. The day we thought how lucky we were to have the sunshine at this time of year. The day when we had a whiff of what was about to come, but it might have just been rapeseed pollen, or particulates in the air.
Beside me in our double sleeping bag my daughter stirs and gropes for my breast to nuzzle in hungrily. I saw a lamb do something very similar to their mother sheep earlier. The lambs are painted with the same number as the mother, like the tags they put on both of us at the hospital the morning you were born.
The bounding, tottery lambs remind me of my son. He still displays uninhibited awe at the world; he points out spider’s webs, cow pats, and litter with equal astonishment. He tries to feed grass to his baby sister. He is working out his place in the world, learning his full name and his address, and asking why?
Whats that mummy?
A worm
What’s worm doing?
Eating soil
Why?
Decomposition. You know like compost.
Why?
It’s an essential part of a delicately balanced ecosystem.
Why?
We all are.
Why?
All life is interlinked.
Why?
(sigh) It turns the soil into poo soil.
Poo-soil! Why poo soil?
It just does.
Camping awakens my apocalyptic imagination. If I had to survive without the comforts that I’m accustomed to, how would I fare? What are the essentials? Do I have the skills to make fire, stay warm, keep my family fed and dry? OK, so we stopped at the supermarket on the way and this campsite has clean toilets- but I imagine that I’m brushing up on the forest survival techniques of my ancestors. I must impart this bravery to my children, let them not be afraid of sleeping outside. Teach them to eat nettles, blueberries, sorrel and wild garlic. To whittle green wood, burn seasoned wood and find drinkable wild water that isn’t from bottles.
I read it takes five times the amount of water in a bottle of bottled water to produce and transport the bottle of water. When I went for a run yesterday, I forgot to take my water bottle, and I was thirsty after breastfeeding and sitting by an open fire the night before. I passed so many trickling streams, but I was scared to drink from them. What have we done to you Earth that here, so far from a city, I can’t trust this mountain water is safe? Is it paranoia? Or a truth that we poisoned you and so I’m scared you would poison me. How many generations has it been since we stopped having the basic skill of finding safe drinking water in the forest?
A cockerel crows, a tent unzips. Pyjama trousers moisten with morning dew shuffling to the toilet block. The sun has yet to warm the grass and evaporate teardrops of the night adorning webs and leaves. I remember as a child poking and blowing at the embers of the previous evening’s fire to try and resurrect the flame next morning. There is a primal instinct to keep hypnotic fires alight, fascinated by the flicker, not realising until too late that there is nothing left to burn.
I heard this week that Drax power station burns wood pellets made from irreplaceable, ancient forests to supply the national grid. How dare we? I never imagined. My phone charged with this guilty energy. What must I do differently now I know this? How can I wean myself away from this criminal consumption?
We change both children’s disposable night time nappies and bag them for landfill. We search through plastic bags to find muesli and melamine bowls, and fumble with our stove to boil water for coffee. Our neighbours fry bacon on their grill. The noise of human activity reigns and birdsong becomes the backing track to chatter, children, and early morning industry. There’s a sense of relief in the campsite, we have made it through the night. We were slightly restless of course, a few children sobbing but soon comforted, and it was not as cold as we imagined it might be. Dark thoughts of a Climate Crisis that keep us awake at night can be put aside for another day now, can’t they? It is a bank holiday after all.
New Directions 1st February 2019
I have been quiet for a little while as I've enjoyed some time with my young babies. I have found myself writing more. Creative space has become so precious and sought after. It feels a real treat to have time to pursue a couple of projects I've been dreaming about while also pushing buggies, wiping noses, changing nappies and feeding at night. I'm thinking about Climate Change a lot. I'm reading. I'm listening. I'm being. I'm changing. I'm growing. I'm taking time out, yet I've never been more buzzing with ideas. It's exciting!
I have written and recorded a podcast called mother runner. It's also available on Spotify and on Pocketcasts, Anchor, Breaker and Stitcher.
I'm also really enjoying working in some children's books. Hopefully more information will follow soon...
I have written and recorded a podcast called mother runner. It's also available on Spotify and on Pocketcasts, Anchor, Breaker and Stitcher.
I'm also really enjoying working in some children's books. Hopefully more information will follow soon...
Parliamentary Reception 1st June 2017I was thrilled to be invited to speak at the Starcatchers reception at the Parliament. It was a wonderful event and I used the opportunity to try and articulate what I do and why. It turned out to be an opportune and interesting moment for me to make time for reflection.
I'm often asked: What do I do? Firstly I listen to children and the adults who love them and care for them. Secondly I think really hard about what Arts could be in their lives and dream up ideas. Thirdly I try and make those ideas happen. That's involved working with beatboxers, classical musicians, dancers, drummers, performers, pianists, poets, painters, puppeteers, photographers, a knitting group and at one point even a live hedgehog. I've been an alien, a raccoon, an elf and a chef. I've performed in theatres, nurseries, family centres and gardens. At one point I became obsessed with circles and everything that spins, another time I orchestrated a Forest installation that changed with the seasons, on one occasion a group of young parents sang somewhere over the rainbow with me and their babies and a guitarist called Zac, under an enormous rainbow that we made together, and I may have been responsible for eyes appearing on fruit in supermarkets and in nurseries across the country. I'm sometimes asked: Why I do what I do? I'm fascinated by young families because it's a time full of hope, love, vulnerability and potential. Like all artists I'm trying to express something that is truthful I'm questioning. I'm inspiring change. I also do it because it's fun, and difficult, and if it has been done before I don't really know about it. The ideas are rich, and growing, and relevant, and becoming more and more interesting. I do it because it is important- it's important as far as the ripples extend- it's important to me, to the people who experience it and connect with it, and I believe to the wider community. |
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Hup- sell out show! 31st August 2016
I'm so proud of the Hup team who have worked incredibly hard this fringe to sell out audiences. I had the amazing experience of being able to take my 3 week old baby along to see and hear the show. It has been wonderful to be a part of the Made in Scotland showcase this year and have the opportunity to share the show here in Edinburgh. It's an emotional time for me adjusting to motherhood and I feel incredibly grateful for the warm and generous responses and reviews from the home crowd!
"Babies and toddlers can be a difficult audience to cater for. This makes it all the more impressive that Starcatchers have pulled this off not only with apparent ease but with sheer style." ***** Broadway baby
"Babies and toddlers can be a difficult audience to cater for. This makes it all the more impressive that Starcatchers have pulled this off not only with apparent ease but with sheer style." ***** Broadway baby
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Hup Trailer 2016 from Starcatchers on Vimeo. |
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International Hup tour 17th July 2016
While I have been in Edinburgh preparing for the birth of my son, another of my babies has been out in the world! Hup has been on tour in Toronto, Macau and Canada. I wish I could have been on that plane for the adventure, but I'm too late on in my pregnancy to fly. It's been quite exciting for me as an artist to set the work free and send it out into the world. It's a new stage in my career and I feel very lucky.
Meanwhile I am consumed by beginning the biggest project yet- motherhood: the longest residency, the biggest budget, the most impressive collaboration, it's all very exciting....
Meanwhile I am consumed by beginning the biggest project yet- motherhood: the longest residency, the biggest budget, the most impressive collaboration, it's all very exciting....
Tropical dry forests 6th May 2015
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I really enjoyed working on the voice over for this animation. It's exciting to imagine how it will be while you are recording and the images don't exist yet. Then you have a real treat when you see it come together.
Animation strikes me as a really lovely, thoughtful art form and I would love to work with it some more. |
Expecting Something 6th July 2014
I have been leading the final part of a pilot project for first time teenage mothers and their babies with Starcatchers and the Family Nurse Partnership in Edinburgh.
Here is an extract from my project blog:
My favorite part of this event was near the end, when the mums, mums to be and babies stayed just a little longer than the other guests. Jed played a few quieter tunes for some sleepy babies and there was a genuine feeling of a happy group, who were connected with each other and quietly (quite rightly) proud of the project and their own achievements within it. They had been dressed up and centre stage at the party- on film and in the pictures, and it had gone very well. They asked for copies of the film on DVD to keep. There was a lull for a moment, with everyone reflecting on this ending- the project becoming a disc in a memory box. Then Belinda suggested that we should make a music video of the song we wrote. The group got quite excited about this idea and there was a bit of a buzz in the room- some chat about costumes, hats and cowboy boots. Jed wants to help and we both started to have ideas about other artists we might work with and what it might be like. In this moment I could feel that the project has it’s own momentum. In Belinda’s idea it was as if everything that we have learned from this pilot project was being packed into a seed that we can grow next time. It was a hopeful ending and full of high expectations!
Here is a link to the film.
Here is an extract from my project blog:
My favorite part of this event was near the end, when the mums, mums to be and babies stayed just a little longer than the other guests. Jed played a few quieter tunes for some sleepy babies and there was a genuine feeling of a happy group, who were connected with each other and quietly (quite rightly) proud of the project and their own achievements within it. They had been dressed up and centre stage at the party- on film and in the pictures, and it had gone very well. They asked for copies of the film on DVD to keep. There was a lull for a moment, with everyone reflecting on this ending- the project becoming a disc in a memory box. Then Belinda suggested that we should make a music video of the song we wrote. The group got quite excited about this idea and there was a bit of a buzz in the room- some chat about costumes, hats and cowboy boots. Jed wants to help and we both started to have ideas about other artists we might work with and what it might be like. In this moment I could feel that the project has it’s own momentum. In Belinda’s idea it was as if everything that we have learned from this pilot project was being packed into a seed that we can grow next time. It was a hopeful ending and full of high expectations!
Here is a link to the film.
Nickum and Hup 16th May 2014
I have just completed a 6 month residency working with Starcatchers and the RSNO on the Nickum project in Aberdeen, and we have made a work-in-progress of this beautiful show called Hup. It is for 0-24 month old babies and their parents or carers. I can honestly say it has been one of the most amazing projects I have ever worked on- these talented and wonderful musicians take my breath away. To be in the same room as an RSNO musician playing a beautiful, sophisticated composition to a transfixed 6 month old gives me tingles!
I have regularly kept a blog during the Nickum project.
There are also two fantastic films of the show and the process made by Geraldine Heaney:
Hup trailer
Behup the scenes
To Bits 14th July 2013
To Bits explores our impulse to destroy. It’s for the child who hugs something so tight it crumbles, and for the child who loves pulling things apart.
Here is a link to a film that Geraldine Heaney made about our development process.
Here are some images so you can imagine what might be a bit like:
Something becomes more beautiful when it has been broken
There is an eggshell
There is a story, but we have broken it up
We take a break
Someone tries to piece together a broken vase but it can’t be saved
Two people want the same thing so much they have to break it in half to have it and then it isn’t worth anything
A thousand pieces means that everyone can have one bit each
We smash a mirror for bad luck
A snowman is fun to destroy
Something explodes. We blow stuff up
We carefully, absent-mindedly pick away at something
We wrap things in cotton wool to protect them
We test the limits of something to see where the breaking point is
This project will also explore new ways of facilitating young people’s meaningful contribution to a professional artistic process, encouraging them to use their imagination and creativity.
It is supported by Imaginate, Lyra and the Creative Scotland Profesional Development fund.
Here is a link to a film that Geraldine Heaney made about our development process.
Here are some images so you can imagine what might be a bit like:
Something becomes more beautiful when it has been broken
There is an eggshell
There is a story, but we have broken it up
We take a break
Someone tries to piece together a broken vase but it can’t be saved
Two people want the same thing so much they have to break it in half to have it and then it isn’t worth anything
A thousand pieces means that everyone can have one bit each
We smash a mirror for bad luck
A snowman is fun to destroy
Something explodes. We blow stuff up
We carefully, absent-mindedly pick away at something
We wrap things in cotton wool to protect them
We test the limits of something to see where the breaking point is
This project will also explore new ways of facilitating young people’s meaningful contribution to a professional artistic process, encouraging them to use their imagination and creativity.
It is supported by Imaginate, Lyra and the Creative Scotland Profesional Development fund.
The Musical Fruit and Veg Cart May 2013
During our Too Many Cooks development Nik and I discovered the joy of using a Makey-Makey to create music with fruit and veg. However, we felt it was much more fun to do than to watch so it sparked a separate participatory experience that we performed at the Imaginate Fringe at the Traverse Theatre. It was enjoyed by participants of all ages and we made many discoveries that we would love to explore further, e.g. one boy realised that he could electrically charge himself by running on the spot... cool.
It was fun to be a part of the festival again and share some of our findings with really exciting international delegates and other performers. Hopefully it will make it out again soon!
It was fun to be a part of the festival again and share some of our findings with really exciting international delegates and other performers. Hopefully it will make it out again soon!
Too Many Cooks 31st January 2013
I have been working with the wonderful, talented musician Nik Paget Tomlinson to create a new show for young audiences called Too Many Cooks. Nik is currently Starcatcher's Artist in Residence as part of the Playground project and you can read more about it on his project blog here. During development we have been matching the days we work in the studio with days in a family centre in Barrhead, sharing our process with some 2 year olds and their carers. It's fantastic to be part of a process with so many surprises and I am really interested to see where this project will lead. We are working from the cook book 'Recipes for Disaster' (we're not scared) using 3 cups pure playfulness, a pinch of daft, a dribble of silly and a tongue wrapped in cheek. Mix it all up, adding all the ingredients very slowly (once a week or so for several months.) Cooking time approximately 6-8 months.
Are your taste buds tingling now? There will be drumming on pots and pans, there will be fruit with faces, I will be wearing a moustache... so get ready for Summer 2013!
Are your taste buds tingling now? There will be drumming on pots and pans, there will be fruit with faces, I will be wearing a moustache... so get ready for Summer 2013!
We Have Won The Land 28th September 2012
I have spent the last few months on tour with Rural Nations performing in a play about community land ownership. We have toured some very remote and beautiful places including Lewis, Harris, Uist, Eigg, Knoydart, Skye, Mull... I could go on. It has been an amazing chance to explore some special corners of Scotland and I will share two Haikus I wrote in the minibus. (For the first ideas credit must go to Hector McInnes, the brilliant musician on tour with the show.)
Smoo Cave
I stared in the cave
That was my soul for an hour
Then ate sausages
Stranded on Eigg
When stranded among
High-spirited folk await
Escape with dolphins
Blush in Brunei July 2012
I've been working with Frozen Charlotte theatre company in Brunei, in residence at the ISB (the International School of Brunei.) After 10 weeks of workshops, open rehearsals and exploration on the theme of embarrassment we performed a 40 minute work in progress called Blush. It was in a double bill with an excellent performance devised by the year 12 students called Blushing on the same theme. It's a really lovely piece to perform, a sweet and quirky character who is taking a risk in love and she has a chance to play with the audience a bit and animate little love stories.
I have also been writing a blog about our travels in Borneo called bruneidgirl.
I have also been writing a blog about our travels in Borneo called bruneidgirl.
The Attic on tour 27th February 2012
Production shot of the Attic by Neil Thomas Douglas
I'm thrilled to be taking the Attic out on tour. It is a dream cast and crew, and the play is now just ripe to be seen. It's had such a long and exciting development (I began working with the idea in 2009) and it is such a special intimate performance that each one feels like a real treat. Usually we are being given the main stage, we bring in the curtains to create a kind of studio space and the audience join us in our set. The show has a great deal of theatricality and in a way it's a collection of everything that made me fall in love with theatre (magic, music, atmosphere, acting, laughs, moving moments, puppets, snow and stars!) We have been able to give it the consideration that a show for Early Years Audiences needs and the response so far has been fantastic.
Mark Fisher wrote a lovely review in Northings, check it out here. I particularly like the description that my character "treads a line so close to naughtiness that only her broad smile can save her." Tee hee!
All of our performance times, dates and booking details are here.
Creating the right space for Play 30th August 2011
The Model of Claire Halleran's design for the project
This is the first entry of the new blog that I will be keeping for the Forgotten Forest project. I will try and update it every Monday- so check it out and let me know if you'd like to subscribe.
http://starcatchersforgottenforests.wordpress.com
Inspiring material is already gathering on the Forgotten Forest website and Facebook page and our ideas are beginning to germinate. I am fascinated by the strong connection between forests and childhood, imagination and play. People treasure memories of being in the woodlands as children; shelters, rope swings, hide and seek, and running away. Forests feature in countless fairytales and adventure stories but they also tell their own stories about growth and nurture. A landscape that gently, patiently transforms creating other worlds, as described by this storyteller:
… walking into the forest was like stepping out of one world into another, where we could never know what we might meet. Creeping Toad
And so we are taking a step out of black box theatre spaces and into the bright, natural lit public space of the Gateway Building in the Royal Botanic Garden of Edinburgh. Theatre Set Designer Claire Halleran has been beavering away to design an installation space; a clearing in the forest… soft grass… a little river… someone’s home.
The space will be suitable for children under 4 and their families to play in and for the Starcatchers team to create performances and interactive experiences in throughout the autumn and winter. We are about to begin building it and the project will officially be launched at the end of September.
Claire’s design is an exciting beginning and I’m looking forward to inviting people to come and play in it. We really don’t know whom we will meet there as characters and a story will develop through the interactions and play that we encounter throughout the 15-week residency. It’s an ambitious project, with events scheduled every week and a range of fantastic artists supporting the project, from magicians to musicians. So watch this space!
http://starcatchersforgottenforests.wordpress.com
Inspiring material is already gathering on the Forgotten Forest website and Facebook page and our ideas are beginning to germinate. I am fascinated by the strong connection between forests and childhood, imagination and play. People treasure memories of being in the woodlands as children; shelters, rope swings, hide and seek, and running away. Forests feature in countless fairytales and adventure stories but they also tell their own stories about growth and nurture. A landscape that gently, patiently transforms creating other worlds, as described by this storyteller:
… walking into the forest was like stepping out of one world into another, where we could never know what we might meet. Creeping Toad
And so we are taking a step out of black box theatre spaces and into the bright, natural lit public space of the Gateway Building in the Royal Botanic Garden of Edinburgh. Theatre Set Designer Claire Halleran has been beavering away to design an installation space; a clearing in the forest… soft grass… a little river… someone’s home.
The space will be suitable for children under 4 and their families to play in and for the Starcatchers team to create performances and interactive experiences in throughout the autumn and winter. We are about to begin building it and the project will officially be launched at the end of September.
Claire’s design is an exciting beginning and I’m looking forward to inviting people to come and play in it. We really don’t know whom we will meet there as characters and a story will develop through the interactions and play that we encounter throughout the 15-week residency. It’s an ambitious project, with events scheduled every week and a range of fantastic artists supporting the project, from magicians to musicians. So watch this space!
Don’t mess with the Gnomes PEOPLE 1st August 2011
Only a few people know about the Gnomes at the Royal Botanic Garden of Edinburgh, including the Queen. They are creative, willful and caring creatures, each aged between 7 and 11, who have a limitless imagination and great skill in the art of play. They have recently been spotted parading through the woods wearing willow crowns carrying flags and banners, having a heartfelt funeral for a frog and watching out for weretigers (even more deadly than werewolves.) They often have colorful painted faces and carry pinecones in each hand, but it is hard to spot a true Gnome’s essential characteristic: the belief that anything is possible.
Summer Club 12th July 2011
I’m in Falkland this fortnight running a Summer club. It’s mainly outdoors in rain or shine, it’s all planned from ideas the kids have come up with themselves and it’s all about the den building. And I can tell bigger seems to be better. This week the den is even more ambitious than last and with 20 hard workers dragging huge sticks and constructing walls together. It’s based on one of the mini dens that we made out of twigs initially to try out different designs. This is how summer should be; in the woods, stables and fields of the estate we have been treasure hunting, puppet making, slug spotting, friend making.
Why we needed a Donkey 25th May 2011
For a couple of months I have been pretending to be a time travelling pirate called Charlie in a primary school in Berwick-upon-Tweed (though the older children know me as Agent 1; master of disguises and brainwashing.) It’s a Creative Partnerships project led by Heather Fulton and it has been fascinating.
So, how did this happen? The brief to create ‘something from nothing’ meant that the project began without knowing the direction it would take, responding to and creating with the children and staff at the school. In fact at first I wasn’t sure I’d be involved for more than a couple of days. Luckily I arrived at a crucial point where the children had already spent some time with various interesting characters and were playing the ‘game’ of pretending that they really were at Spy Academy or helping time travellers. We intended to tell them that we were actors, further enabling them as creators to take charge of using what we had given them as stimulus. However we had an interesting reaction when we asked them 'would be better if we didn’t tell you that it was all a performance?' They said yes, it was better to just keep pretending. So we did; and the story became more elaborate. A baddie was stealing sandwiches; the children started finding evidence (some of which we hadn’t even left) and writing Heather letters with clues. The teachers played along and their lunches were stolen, or had large bites missing. How would this end? In a ‘mission day’ of course! The school was taken over by forensic scientists, victorian schoolteachers and pirates (parts played beautifully by the staff) all on the lookout for clues that led them out to the lawn. Cue a benny-hill inspired chase sequence using their tricycles, space hoppers and climbing frames, which ended in me being netted. Yes, I am sorry to stay it was me who stole the sandwiches. But it was not for selfish reasons- I needed them to feed Eddie, the donkey. And the final image is of a beautiful real local Donkey called Eddie surprising the children coming through the gates. Now, if they don’t remember that forever, I will!
So, how did this happen? The brief to create ‘something from nothing’ meant that the project began without knowing the direction it would take, responding to and creating with the children and staff at the school. In fact at first I wasn’t sure I’d be involved for more than a couple of days. Luckily I arrived at a crucial point where the children had already spent some time with various interesting characters and were playing the ‘game’ of pretending that they really were at Spy Academy or helping time travellers. We intended to tell them that we were actors, further enabling them as creators to take charge of using what we had given them as stimulus. However we had an interesting reaction when we asked them 'would be better if we didn’t tell you that it was all a performance?' They said yes, it was better to just keep pretending. So we did; and the story became more elaborate. A baddie was stealing sandwiches; the children started finding evidence (some of which we hadn’t even left) and writing Heather letters with clues. The teachers played along and their lunches were stolen, or had large bites missing. How would this end? In a ‘mission day’ of course! The school was taken over by forensic scientists, victorian schoolteachers and pirates (parts played beautifully by the staff) all on the lookout for clues that led them out to the lawn. Cue a benny-hill inspired chase sequence using their tricycles, space hoppers and climbing frames, which ended in me being netted. Yes, I am sorry to stay it was me who stole the sandwiches. But it was not for selfish reasons- I needed them to feed Eddie, the donkey. And the final image is of a beautiful real local Donkey called Eddie surprising the children coming through the gates. Now, if they don’t remember that forever, I will!
Love 17th May 2011
Acting like children is remembering to play, and opening your heart so wide that you cry if you lose a simple ball game...
For actors and for directors this process is difficult and it is dangerous, and it is joyful and emotional, because it’s difficult and dangerous and joyful and emotional to be a child.
David Harradine, Fevered Sleep
David’s lines beautifully sum up my experience performing the Attic as part of the Imaginate Festival last week. I was asked a question during a Delegate’s Session on the Starcatchers Project: what is one thing that I will take away from my residency? Perhaps I was still on a high from seeing the amazing Legend of Woesterdam (Studio Orka/ Kopergietery) immediately prior, but I said it was that an Early Years audience came to the theatre filled with openness and love- and how that enables radical change (for them and for me) which is an exciting place to be when you are making theatre. It really felt this time that the making and performing the Attic, everyone involved was very loving with their role; so a fantastic team to be a part of. Big wide hearts. Lovely.
David Harradine, Fevered Sleep
David’s lines beautifully sum up my experience performing the Attic as part of the Imaginate Festival last week. I was asked a question during a Delegate’s Session on the Starcatchers Project: what is one thing that I will take away from my residency? Perhaps I was still on a high from seeing the amazing Legend of Woesterdam (Studio Orka/ Kopergietery) immediately prior, but I said it was that an Early Years audience came to the theatre filled with openness and love- and how that enables radical change (for them and for me) which is an exciting place to be when you are making theatre. It really felt this time that the making and performing the Attic, everyone involved was very loving with their role; so a fantastic team to be a part of. Big wide hearts. Lovely.
Crèche Landing 1st February 2011
We
set out to explore new ways of bringing creativity into the crèche setting,
using extended in-role improvisation and principles of naive play and a child
led narrative. In other words we dressed up and pretended to be aliens living
in the crèche with children aged 0-4 for a week to see what the response would
be and to listen to their suggestions to move the story on (as many of the
younger ones are non-verbal their ideas are initiated through play.)
The project was in collaboration with actor Samuel Jamieson, film maker Geraldine Heaney, director Heather Fulton and the Treehouse crèche staff Lisa, Gillian and Laura. It was a dream team who were all completely behind the experiment, which pushed all of us out of our comfort zone at times and could be quite exhausting, but which was genuinely fascinating and produced exciting results. The Treehouse is already a fantastically creative and artistic space run by an energetic and resourceful team who were thankfully open to having a new experience- and helping to shape that into something that could work in other childcare settings in the future.
Much of the discussion was about how much (story/activities/ideas/material) we needed to ‘offer’ and how much space we needed to leave for their contribution. The week began with us offering very little and trying to let the children take the lead- made easier by the idea that the characters couldn’t speak and don’t know anything about the objects/language/earthly customs. But as the week went on we adjusted to the rhythm of this particular setting and, for example, found out that offering a high energy activity just after snack might work well and offering a more focused performance section (to watch) worked well whilst they ate their lunch. If a child wanted to watch/engage with us- in any way- we were always open to them taking the lead and reacting ‘in the moment.’ Often things didn’t work out as planned- e.g. the tea party became a game of sucking up the space disks through a tube… maybe you had to be there! We found a lot of humour in the characters and the situation (imagine 6’2 Sam stuck in a tiny toddler sized play house shouting ‘help, help!’) but it was all natural and never forced. If participants were more interested in the toy cars/dolls house/baby at that moment then there’s room for that, our characters might be interested in that too, or play on their own for a while- after all we had the whole week, there was plenty time. Considering we were wearing silver, lycra, all-in-ones, it actually felt a very natural role to play and like we were in a place of real creativity, empowering for the children, very engaging for us as artists, and there was some great feedback from the Treehouse staff:
‘You guys have really opened our eyes to all possibilities in providing opportunity for creative play - really offering and not leading… having you guys with us for the week has really given us an insight into how the children we know who attend regularly, have developed and learned throughout this whole journey.’
Space Log
Day 1
The spaceship lands beside a lake outside the MacRobert Arts Centre in Stirling. Little faces are pressed to the window. We look around and decide to join the little people in the crèche. Our ship nestles among the bright toys. We join them in their hand painting custom, pressing our painted hands together then making prints from them. We fall asleep.
Day 2
We are adjusting to their ways- they paint not only our hands but our whole bodies. They name us Twin, Twin and Rabbit and we begin to pick up the language ‘spanner’, ‘big blob’, ‘200 points’, ‘tattoo.’ They say we are from ‘out of space.’ Twin starts to nod off, so one boy teaches the other Twin to ROAR at Twin with a tiger to wake him up.
Day 3
They are now exploring our space ship, and some made silver suits to look like us. Slowly the walls, the floor and some of the toys are becoming silver. We all danced and banged things until we were exhausted. We ate a meal with them: yoghurt, cheese, nana, sorry.
Day 4
We are still sleeping when they arrive (all that dancing.) We want to show them shadow pictures of our world. We make shadows of their objects and guess what they are. One strange shape is a ‘combine harvester.’ Lisa and Twin are put in ‘Jail.’ Twin tries to fall asleep and we all have to ‘sshhhh’ but then there is a big storm in the room. We have an excellent silver space meal; it is so good that Twin plays a tune on the teapot.
Day 5
We are having a lie in, in the spaceship; it has been an exhausting week. They tickle our feet to wake us up. We brush down our suits and have bubble showers. We all rock out to ‘around the world around the wo-orld’ by Daft Punk- and that was our final mission- it is time to go. We pack up. They teach us to say ‘good-bye’ and ‘miss you.’ A final hug and we leave, squeezing the space ship out the door as they wave good bye.
The project was in collaboration with actor Samuel Jamieson, film maker Geraldine Heaney, director Heather Fulton and the Treehouse crèche staff Lisa, Gillian and Laura. It was a dream team who were all completely behind the experiment, which pushed all of us out of our comfort zone at times and could be quite exhausting, but which was genuinely fascinating and produced exciting results. The Treehouse is already a fantastically creative and artistic space run by an energetic and resourceful team who were thankfully open to having a new experience- and helping to shape that into something that could work in other childcare settings in the future.
Much of the discussion was about how much (story/activities/ideas/material) we needed to ‘offer’ and how much space we needed to leave for their contribution. The week began with us offering very little and trying to let the children take the lead- made easier by the idea that the characters couldn’t speak and don’t know anything about the objects/language/earthly customs. But as the week went on we adjusted to the rhythm of this particular setting and, for example, found out that offering a high energy activity just after snack might work well and offering a more focused performance section (to watch) worked well whilst they ate their lunch. If a child wanted to watch/engage with us- in any way- we were always open to them taking the lead and reacting ‘in the moment.’ Often things didn’t work out as planned- e.g. the tea party became a game of sucking up the space disks through a tube… maybe you had to be there! We found a lot of humour in the characters and the situation (imagine 6’2 Sam stuck in a tiny toddler sized play house shouting ‘help, help!’) but it was all natural and never forced. If participants were more interested in the toy cars/dolls house/baby at that moment then there’s room for that, our characters might be interested in that too, or play on their own for a while- after all we had the whole week, there was plenty time. Considering we were wearing silver, lycra, all-in-ones, it actually felt a very natural role to play and like we were in a place of real creativity, empowering for the children, very engaging for us as artists, and there was some great feedback from the Treehouse staff:
‘You guys have really opened our eyes to all possibilities in providing opportunity for creative play - really offering and not leading… having you guys with us for the week has really given us an insight into how the children we know who attend regularly, have developed and learned throughout this whole journey.’
Space Log
Day 1
The spaceship lands beside a lake outside the MacRobert Arts Centre in Stirling. Little faces are pressed to the window. We look around and decide to join the little people in the crèche. Our ship nestles among the bright toys. We join them in their hand painting custom, pressing our painted hands together then making prints from them. We fall asleep.
Day 2
We are adjusting to their ways- they paint not only our hands but our whole bodies. They name us Twin, Twin and Rabbit and we begin to pick up the language ‘spanner’, ‘big blob’, ‘200 points’, ‘tattoo.’ They say we are from ‘out of space.’ Twin starts to nod off, so one boy teaches the other Twin to ROAR at Twin with a tiger to wake him up.
Day 3
They are now exploring our space ship, and some made silver suits to look like us. Slowly the walls, the floor and some of the toys are becoming silver. We all danced and banged things until we were exhausted. We ate a meal with them: yoghurt, cheese, nana, sorry.
Day 4
We are still sleeping when they arrive (all that dancing.) We want to show them shadow pictures of our world. We make shadows of their objects and guess what they are. One strange shape is a ‘combine harvester.’ Lisa and Twin are put in ‘Jail.’ Twin tries to fall asleep and we all have to ‘sshhhh’ but then there is a big storm in the room. We have an excellent silver space meal; it is so good that Twin plays a tune on the teapot.
Day 5
We are having a lie in, in the spaceship; it has been an exhausting week. They tickle our feet to wake us up. We brush down our suits and have bubble showers. We all rock out to ‘around the world around the wo-orld’ by Daft Punk- and that was our final mission- it is time to go. We pack up. They teach us to say ‘good-bye’ and ‘miss you.’ A final hug and we leave, squeezing the space ship out the door as they wave good bye.
Elf and Happiness 22nd December 2010
Elf and Happiness- 22nd December 2010
Here are 10 bauble sized seasonal anecdotes about the Elf Experiment:
1) The cracker story
The children find a cracker in the nursery and the Elf is very excited about it- however she has not seen a cracker before. With a little shake we can hear that there is something inside it but how do we open it? Lots of little faces look up at the Elf and a child suggest ‘scissors.’ The room agrees that this is a good suggestion and some scissors are discovered nearby and handed to the Elf who should do the honours. The Elf grins, and snip, snip the cracker is opened, perfect.
2) Easy-to-use elf magic
The children are given small sparkly squares of elf magic.
Child: what do we do with the elf magic?
Elf: What do you think?
Child: Make a wish?
Elf: Yes. Exactly.
Child: Good. I already made one.
Elf: Perfect.
3) Expect delays this Christmas
A jingle bells ringtone inside the parcel. It’s Santa- we have to get back. It’s nearly Christmas and Santa needs our help to get things ready.
Children: NO! Don’t go- stay and play again.
Elf: But Santa needs our help. We need to make the presents.
Children: No…
Elf: But there’ll be no presents- is that OK?
Children: Yeah! That’s OK
Elf: And Christmas will be delayed- is that OK?
Children: Yeah, that’s fine.
4) I love this game
‘You can’t possibly know this game, it is a traditional elf game played on our birthday which happens once every 200 years and there are 2478 rules, but don’t worry you will pick it up easily- I know what I’m doing. So first I pass the present to you and you pass it back to me, then I put it on your head, then give it a shake, then walk backwards 5 paces, give it to you- you give it back to me- that’s it. Then the music stops and we open a layer- but there’s another present inside. Pass the parcel? I’ve never heard of it. OK now you kiss the present and I throw it up and catch it then… oh- you want to pass it to Melody? He’s playing the piano- so I rub it against his cheek instead… I love this game!’
5) The balloon
We are testing for Elf magic. The ‘tester’- I think in Scotland you say ‘rocket balloon’- inflates to giggles. Pause, more giggles. Worried look to Melody who is on the keyboard playing ‘tension’ music. Pause. Then a farty noise as it flies off to the roof of the gym hall, round and round until it runs out of air and pauses in the air like a cartoon animal who just stepped off a cliff… then it falls. In a straight line, all eyes following it, straight into the open hand of Melody- who is still playing the keyboard with his other hand. What an incredible, one off moment!
6) The elf berries
You just take your time opening that, it’s fine, I’ll have one of my cherries, I mean- elf berries. Oh no, my mask has slipped! Conspiritory looks from the adults- they are not fooled, I’m not really an elf but an actor (my cheeks are actually face paint.) However every child in the room is focussed on present opening, not one of them has noticed… smiles from the adults, and we got away with that one.
7) Understandable confusion
Elf: It’s Melody’s elf birthday! We should give him a surprise, have you got any ideas?
Child: A cake?
Child: A present?
Child: A Christmas tree?
8) Very sensible suggestions
Elf: The silver box is shut and we need to get it open. Have you got any suggestions?
Child: Use your hands?
…
Elf: We have to leave- how do we get out of here?
Child: The door!
9) The school run
Matt has left his notebook in a nursery, so on the way home we stop by to pick it up. We collide with the school run and join the queue of cars outside the school gates while Matt runs in to pick it up. Scott and I are still in full elf gear- rosy cheeks, bobble hats and high vis vests, sitting in the front seats of a blue sab outside school. We are the elf parents waiting to pick up their elf child? We are normal parents dressed as elves to embarrass their children on the last day of term?
10) Flying off
We have to leave- I’m sorry but Santa needs us.
Child: how will you get back?
Elf: Sleigh of course.
I point to the window and trace the route of us flying off. Then we leave.
They watch for us going. Nothing, so they sing jingle bells (we are probably putting on our helmets and unlocking the sleigh.) Some time passes (we are actually hiding under the stairs by the fire exit; we don’t want to set off the alarm.)
One brilliant adult takes a risk: look- there they are.
Children: Oh yeah, look! Bye! Bye Elves!
They wave us off. Till next year…
Here are 10 bauble sized seasonal anecdotes about the Elf Experiment:
1) The cracker story
The children find a cracker in the nursery and the Elf is very excited about it- however she has not seen a cracker before. With a little shake we can hear that there is something inside it but how do we open it? Lots of little faces look up at the Elf and a child suggest ‘scissors.’ The room agrees that this is a good suggestion and some scissors are discovered nearby and handed to the Elf who should do the honours. The Elf grins, and snip, snip the cracker is opened, perfect.
2) Easy-to-use elf magic
The children are given small sparkly squares of elf magic.
Child: what do we do with the elf magic?
Elf: What do you think?
Child: Make a wish?
Elf: Yes. Exactly.
Child: Good. I already made one.
Elf: Perfect.
3) Expect delays this Christmas
A jingle bells ringtone inside the parcel. It’s Santa- we have to get back. It’s nearly Christmas and Santa needs our help to get things ready.
Children: NO! Don’t go- stay and play again.
Elf: But Santa needs our help. We need to make the presents.
Children: No…
Elf: But there’ll be no presents- is that OK?
Children: Yeah! That’s OK
Elf: And Christmas will be delayed- is that OK?
Children: Yeah, that’s fine.
4) I love this game
‘You can’t possibly know this game, it is a traditional elf game played on our birthday which happens once every 200 years and there are 2478 rules, but don’t worry you will pick it up easily- I know what I’m doing. So first I pass the present to you and you pass it back to me, then I put it on your head, then give it a shake, then walk backwards 5 paces, give it to you- you give it back to me- that’s it. Then the music stops and we open a layer- but there’s another present inside. Pass the parcel? I’ve never heard of it. OK now you kiss the present and I throw it up and catch it then… oh- you want to pass it to Melody? He’s playing the piano- so I rub it against his cheek instead… I love this game!’
5) The balloon
We are testing for Elf magic. The ‘tester’- I think in Scotland you say ‘rocket balloon’- inflates to giggles. Pause, more giggles. Worried look to Melody who is on the keyboard playing ‘tension’ music. Pause. Then a farty noise as it flies off to the roof of the gym hall, round and round until it runs out of air and pauses in the air like a cartoon animal who just stepped off a cliff… then it falls. In a straight line, all eyes following it, straight into the open hand of Melody- who is still playing the keyboard with his other hand. What an incredible, one off moment!
6) The elf berries
You just take your time opening that, it’s fine, I’ll have one of my cherries, I mean- elf berries. Oh no, my mask has slipped! Conspiritory looks from the adults- they are not fooled, I’m not really an elf but an actor (my cheeks are actually face paint.) However every child in the room is focussed on present opening, not one of them has noticed… smiles from the adults, and we got away with that one.
7) Understandable confusion
Elf: It’s Melody’s elf birthday! We should give him a surprise, have you got any ideas?
Child: A cake?
Child: A present?
Child: A Christmas tree?
8) Very sensible suggestions
Elf: The silver box is shut and we need to get it open. Have you got any suggestions?
Child: Use your hands?
…
Elf: We have to leave- how do we get out of here?
Child: The door!
9) The school run
Matt has left his notebook in a nursery, so on the way home we stop by to pick it up. We collide with the school run and join the queue of cars outside the school gates while Matt runs in to pick it up. Scott and I are still in full elf gear- rosy cheeks, bobble hats and high vis vests, sitting in the front seats of a blue sab outside school. We are the elf parents waiting to pick up their elf child? We are normal parents dressed as elves to embarrass their children on the last day of term?
10) Flying off
We have to leave- I’m sorry but Santa needs us.
Child: how will you get back?
Elf: Sleigh of course.
I point to the window and trace the route of us flying off. Then we leave.
They watch for us going. Nothing, so they sing jingle bells (we are probably putting on our helmets and unlocking the sleigh.) Some time passes (we are actually hiding under the stairs by the fire exit; we don’t want to set off the alarm.)
One brilliant adult takes a risk: look- there they are.
Children: Oh yeah, look! Bye! Bye Elves!
They wave us off. Till next year…
Finding my Elf 30th November 2010
I sit on the floor in the middle of a nursery to check out the map- a look of concentration on my face- I’m thinking ‘how exactly am I going to get back to Santa?’ A girl reaches out to touch my cheek and her tiny finger comes away with red make up on. She has found me out. Her eyes widen. I panic. She grins. I grin. It’s going to be OK- we’re in on this adventure together. It’s a scientific Elf led evaluation of the ‘christmasyness’ of the nursery. Using unconventional Elf methods of bottling sounds and stylophone-ometer colour testing, photographing wellies and person labelling the findings are elf evident.
What would happen if we didn’t announce that a performance is going to start? This allows the children to make the decision to opt in or out of the performance experience as they wish. The unsuspecting children check us out: some of them drop what they are doing and are right up to us with questioning expressions, and others watch from afar, hands still in the sand pit, and one or two are so involved in their world of play that even four grownups in high-vis vests with red cheeks who are TIED TOGETHER is not enough to attract their attention.
What would happen if we went in and left space for them to make the first move? I don’t think at the start of the year I’d have thought it was a brilliant idea to go into a nursery in character without any rehearsal, and without any language and just see what happens without pushing an idea- just responding to their play. But that’s where I am now- a year after I began my Starcatchers residency. There are moments of awkwardness, I’ll be honest, they are looking at me waiting for me to do something and I am looking at them waiting for them to do something. Take a breath. Ride it out. Leave space. And then it happens- they take the lead- How did you get here? Can I have a go of your camera? What is that on your back? Can you not talk? Why can’t you talk?
Oh, just before we go has anyone got a message for Santa? ‘Jingle Bells’, no, make that ‘Jingle all the way’
What would happen if we didn’t announce that a performance is going to start? This allows the children to make the decision to opt in or out of the performance experience as they wish. The unsuspecting children check us out: some of them drop what they are doing and are right up to us with questioning expressions, and others watch from afar, hands still in the sand pit, and one or two are so involved in their world of play that even four grownups in high-vis vests with red cheeks who are TIED TOGETHER is not enough to attract their attention.
What would happen if we went in and left space for them to make the first move? I don’t think at the start of the year I’d have thought it was a brilliant idea to go into a nursery in character without any rehearsal, and without any language and just see what happens without pushing an idea- just responding to their play. But that’s where I am now- a year after I began my Starcatchers residency. There are moments of awkwardness, I’ll be honest, they are looking at me waiting for me to do something and I am looking at them waiting for them to do something. Take a breath. Ride it out. Leave space. And then it happens- they take the lead- How did you get here? Can I have a go of your camera? What is that on your back? Can you not talk? Why can’t you talk?
Oh, just before we go has anyone got a message for Santa? ‘Jingle Bells’, no, make that ‘Jingle all the way’
Hey good lookin! What ya got cookin? 8th October 2010
Shake n’Bake recipe
1) Take a generous helping of shaking
2) Mix in a bowlful of baking
3) Add knitted mice to taste
4) Now inffuse with the finest quality retro jazz music for 20 mins
5) Garnish with long silk gloves and a feather boa
6) Serve with polka dots to Fife-based tots daily for the next 2 weeks!
Lottie and I have begun our tour of nurseries in Fife with Shake n’Bake, a show I created in collaboration with Sacha Kyle last summer. We have a rocking sound track compiled by Starcatcher’s favourite Nik Paget-Tomlinson which I challenge anyone not to want to dance to and the show’s a lot of fun.
We kicked off in St Serfs nursery today. A really lovely response from everyone, including the staff: ‘I could spend all day writing observations about that’ and ‘I was surprised how the boys sat completely engaged- we do drama but I’ve never seen them that absorbed.’ And one little girl tried to stop us from packing up: ‘don’t go, do it again?’ she asked. The children even came up with a cunning plan to keep us there- they posted our cheese prop through the letter box, of course they did.
1) Take a generous helping of shaking
2) Mix in a bowlful of baking
3) Add knitted mice to taste
4) Now inffuse with the finest quality retro jazz music for 20 mins
5) Garnish with long silk gloves and a feather boa
6) Serve with polka dots to Fife-based tots daily for the next 2 weeks!
Lottie and I have begun our tour of nurseries in Fife with Shake n’Bake, a show I created in collaboration with Sacha Kyle last summer. We have a rocking sound track compiled by Starcatcher’s favourite Nik Paget-Tomlinson which I challenge anyone not to want to dance to and the show’s a lot of fun.
We kicked off in St Serfs nursery today. A really lovely response from everyone, including the staff: ‘I could spend all day writing observations about that’ and ‘I was surprised how the boys sat completely engaged- we do drama but I’ve never seen them that absorbed.’ And one little girl tried to stop us from packing up: ‘don’t go, do it again?’ she asked. The children even came up with a cunning plan to keep us there- they posted our cheese prop through the letter box, of course they did.
Hats off 26th October 2010
The Attic is all done but not dusted- we are leaving the dust on it (to add authenticity) for next year! We really enjoyed performing this beautiful show, and would love to do it again. We had a very positive reaction from our audiences and there are plenty ideas and discoveries coming from this show. The process has been so long and thorough that it has resulted in not only a show that is very rich in ideas and images, but a very multi-layered experience for all the artists involved. It was lovely to see the families and nurseries who had been involved in development come back and see the leap we made to a finished production. It’s hard to tell if a particularly memorable 3 year old recognises that it was his endless pouring of imaginary tea which inspired that part of the performance but he seemed in his element joining in exactly as we had intended- and his parents remembered. And another 4 year old wanted to know why Grandma hadn’t knitted him a fleece as promised last time- how do you explain that you have actually changed grannies since the development? Sorry…
And here’s what the press said:
a celebration of the creative imagination we all keep under our hats
spell-binding fun for little ones
the cups, teapots and knitted cakes that are also whisked, quite magically, into view- lead on to a splendid tea-party where we join in the fun.
MARY BRENNAN The Herald 21.10.10
photo by Neil Thomas Douglas
And here’s what the press said:
a celebration of the creative imagination we all keep under our hats
spell-binding fun for little ones
the cups, teapots and knitted cakes that are also whisked, quite magically, into view- lead on to a splendid tea-party where we join in the fun.
MARY BRENNAN The Herald 21.10.10
photo by Neil Thomas Douglas