My ideal Presidential debate would involve Hillary suffering a spectacular overdrawn cerebral event, multiple fatal hemorrhages in a series of locations that still allow her equilibrium as she staggers round the stage and the world as we know it with her arms flapping and uttering in an inhuman tone what sounds like a demonic form of speaking in tongues. Donald, truly terrified for the first time in his life sprints off the stage, forgets the drop is three meters and fatally breaks his neck . Hillary's brain finally explodes for good and she collapses and to the worlds amazement spontaniously combusts. Both vice presidential candidates withdraw suffering debilitating psychotic fractures.
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Sunday, September 25, 2016
Ideal Presidential Debate 20!6
My ideal Presidential debate would involve Hillary suffering a spectacular overdrawn cerebral event, multiple fatal hemorrhages in a series of locations that still allow her equilibrium as she staggers round the stage and the world as we know it with her arms flapping and uttering in an inhuman tone what sounds like a demonic form of speaking in tongues. Donald, truly terrified for the first time in his life sprints off the stage, forgets the drop is three meters and fatally breaks his neck . Hillary's brain finally explodes for good and she collapses and to the worlds amazement spontaniously combusts. Both vice presidential candidates withdraw suffering debilitating psychotic fractures.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Squid Juggling and a drive by shooting.
My official Clown education began after getting permission
from my probation officer to attend
clown school at the other end of the country. Oh and the crime? Breaking and entering and
theft of a fire extinguisher. I happened to be at a party and I happened to be
bored and I happened to believe that the host of the party should be shot but
not killed as a form of entertainment (which is the theme of this piece) so I
broke into a nearby hall and stole the fire extinguisher went back to the party
and blasted the host with foam because that was the minimum level of excitement
I required and six months later that shit caught up with me and probation
followed.
I arrived and
unrolled my WW1 officers sleeping-bag under the shelter of the Grafton bridge
in a cemetery. Nearby seasoned tramps roared, fought and laughed but I kept my
distance. I was just 20, sleeping in cemeteries was just a stage I was going
through. Tomorrow was day one of Clown school.
I learnt to juggle. I was never attracted to juggling. The
celebration of mastering objects flying through space seemed to me a bit of a
trite concession. I could see it being therapeutic to certain personality types
who used it to buttrice lifes random inputs by using short range focus. A kind
of , 'I'm alright Jack' attitude given physical form. Some people curb panic
attacks by breathing into a paper bag, others gaze at their shoes to short circuit
overstimulation, some play with toy trains or assemble model airplanes and
some, who want attention in theory but are uncomfortable with it in practice,
juggle.
I always thought of it as a kind of symmetrical epilepsy
practiced by closet trainspotters and a kind of slowly boiled frog of attention
seeking behavior. People have suggested I'm overly critical. Fuck those people,
those people are assholes.
Clown school, the one I attended and ones I’ve subsequently
taught, are about extending permissions and letting pupils explore their own
boundaries in clown character development. Alan Clay taught a street based
clown format so out of the studio we got to explore clown perimeters in public.
My first clown character was called Vernon Vortex, he wore a
red nose and a baby bonnet and sometimes a sandwich board on which he’d write
cryptic witticisms in chalk. His threadbare backstory was that vortexes were
kinda like absences of stuff and that it was his job to go round filling them
up.
In terms of permissions I found a red nose was quite the
anarchist passport. Downtown I could climb the outsides of buildings and peer
into first floor offices unimpeded. Alan used to release 12 trainee clowns at
once into a 4 block area downtown, I’d be climbing buildings, another would be
walking backwards for block after block, another would be on her back on a
traffic island with her legs in the air reading a book called ‘Electricity made
simple’ and keening, another would be coaxing her pet ball of string down from
a traffic light. Good times.
Vernon was my first talking clown, he evolved from his first
show which was How to create a near death experience, Life…is a near death
experience when you think about it. …I will begin by strangling myself.” to
selling isolation chambers on stage by zipping himself into an adapted shoe
holder while talking. “have you ever been in a place…and thought you’d quite
like to be…in another place?” Vernon would also appear between bands at high
risk nz rock and roll venues with a bible to talk about his difficulties in his
relationship with God regarding Deuteronomy in relation to industrial accidents
and bar brawls culminating in the phrase, “and so I killed him”
This clown murder of an invisible god after the tension
created in any theological monologue was the relief the sodden masses needed. I
appeared to rock.
But my next clown
Terrance the artistic amoeba was the squid specialist. Vernon vortex had a
rationale, he dealt with vortexes. Terrance the artistic amoeba just was.
Although Terrence the artistic amoeba’s
first line was always. “ my name is Terrance the artistic amoeba and my forte
is artistic criticism.”
Terrance stick was squid heavy. I’d begin by introducing
thawed squid and explaining that thy were just basically protoplasm with well
developed eyeballs programmed to come to the surface whenever lights appeared
in the sky. I’d let that hang and then state,
“and so I’m going to juggle them!”
Being a reactionary cynical juggler squid suggested itself
and I used an overhand technique and could juggle squid for as long as the
concept required as a clown statement needed, i.e. Yes I am a clown and yes I
am juggling squid .
It was the intro into my statement about art and what art
was. I’d promise, as a specialist in artistic criticism, a conclusive proof.
Which was, after juggling squid I would introduce a mystery
art object, an object hidden in a paper bag at the top of a stick that was one
half of a spear fishing unit. My purpose, as Terrance the artistic amoeba whose
specialty was artistic criticism was to define art, by initially juggling squid.
and then introduce a mystery art object with the ongoing motif that I would
reveal it and artistically critique it.
The art object was a squid on a stick, whats more the stick
was loaded with a propulsion unit being the back end of an elastic speargun and
so after the reveal I’d state that the squid was an art object, valid because
I’d made it valid, and that like all great art it needed to find it’s place in
the community.
At this point I’d offer them the choice between the 4 story
building on the left or the right and whatever their choice I could fling the
squid over their heads and away as my shows climax.
So lets get to the drive by shooting and let me say it was
justified and I have no remorse. Clown vengeance is a beautiful thing given
clowns have to produce dignity in hidden corners from their deliberately low
status lives.
Aucklands biggest indoor venue was called ‘mainstreet’ and
held around 1500 punters. It was a dead dinosaur being sold in a real estate deal and as a
last ditch keep the lights deal the owner of a nearby performance cafe was
given casting rights, Enter weirdness with people from outer suburbs being subjected to thurs/fri /sat of young
bent culture. So I took my squid flinging act indoors. Numbers on the first 2
days were so low that the whole affair marinated in it’s own non event corpse
secretion but sat night sat about 300. The bouncers were the original staff,
along with the tickets sellers and the
barstaff, and they were used to agro at the highest level.
I had been flushing my squid in the venues public toilets
after the shows. No fuss. My squid flinging had to be deft, well aimed and the
launches had to be aimed in a narrow spectrum avoiding an array of circular
fans and the tables beneath. easy on empty nights but the sat when I stated I
was going to fling a squid out from the stage one table of 6 in the middle at
the back vacated defensively and the gods of comedy decreed that’s where my
squid landed. I thought that was great and retrieved it and flushed it after my
act. Shortly afterwards backstage I got a warning that a bouncer was angry and
looking for me. ‘Everyone’s a critic.’ I thought.
30 minutes later I was accosted backstage by a livid bouncer
who grabbed me in a neck pinch and dragged me to the toilets where it appeared
my flushed squid had reappeared and shocked some punter who’d shat and then
inspected his output to be shocked at some aquatic protoplasm with a well
evolved singular eye staring back at him and had complained to an otherwise
bored bouncer.
The bouncer, instead of simply flushing again came and got
me and gave me a coat hanger and plastic bag and told me to get rid of it
elsewhere. So I fished it out, rinsed it, put it in the bag. Put it and my
other props in the car I came in and had a couple more quick drinks.
We piled into the car and I was still smarting. I told the
driver to crawl past the front doors of the place as I loaded my
squid-projecting apparatus in the back seat and wound down the window. Comedy
Gods be praised, there he was, standing out on the pavement looking like a bald,
neckless, undersized, Ork.. I ordered a U-turn and we circled round again. I
only had one chance. I’d have to shoot out the window and aim between parked
cars from a moving vehicle but I had the steely discipline of a veteran sniper
and rage in my heart. The squid, that had once been on stage, then in the air
then in a toilet, then shat on and then rinsed off was now set free again and
shot between the parked cars and hit the bouncer flush in the side of the face
as we laughed and sped off.
It was a beautiful thing.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
'Table manners' A site specific clown show based in restaurants. Still relevant?
One thing about my creative modules I've noted its they don't seem to age.
Admittedly I do.
I'm wondering whether to re-produce an old piece of theatre I [and Daniel Pearson] created and shop it around festivals?
It was performed over 30 times, it works. The script has lain idle for close to twenty years.
I could see it being a precursor to a festival, a buzz creating preseason. Or a parrallel piece, set in various restaurants.
It requires minimal props, it's production is cheap. It's a 20 minute piece usually unnoticed for the first 5 or 10.
I wonder if I should try and shop it around?
-------------
Is a set piece duo mime show set in a public restaurant.
Admittedly I do.
I'm wondering whether to re-produce an old piece of theatre I [and Daniel Pearson] created and shop it around festivals?
It was performed over 30 times, it works. The script has lain idle for close to twenty years.
I could see it being a precursor to a festival, a buzz creating preseason. Or a parrallel piece, set in various restaurants.
It requires minimal props, it's production is cheap. It's a 20 minute piece usually unnoticed for the first 5 or 10.
I wonder if I should try and shop it around?
-------------
Is a set piece duo mime show set in a public restaurant.
It was initially created for Perth City Councils annual summer program of inner city entertainment.
Using elements of invisible theatre, mime, pantomime and increasingly
absurd character development, the piece develops from invisible theatre
through to overt pantomime and essentially involves an excessively
pedantic food critic and a waiter pushed too far.
The motivation for this work work was to produce an initially subtile
piece of theatre that didn't impose itself theatrically on dining patrons
but rather evolved in their midst. It was important also to be sensitive
to our host restaurants prime function which is to provide quality
atmosphere service and food. Our brief was obviously to add and enrich
to rather than subvert the atmosphere .
I had researched restaurant pieces, mainly English and wanted to produce
something that moved away from the accepted character farce and more in
the direction of studied eccentricity while still employing basic
theatrical structures.
I wanted to construct a piece that was self contained ,a performance
that could be referred to by an audience while relieving them from the necessity of direct engagement.
(The dreaded "Approaching Violinist"
syndrome)
Evolving from the pretext of a regular interaction between two
characters, a waiter and a food critic into studied absurdity the piece
was constucted to allow audience members to spend at least some time
unsure of the context of what they, at various stages, began watching.
The performance itself becomes a topic of conversation.
The piece is in fact initially invisible before graduating via eccentricity into apparent theatre.
Its a twenty minute piece scripted to 100 cues.
-----------------------
It
involves an evolving surreal interaction between a waiter and a food critic. It is a non verbal piece.
------------------------------------
Waiter/performer arrives pre-performance dressed in
identical garb as other waiters. From kitchen enters and sets empty table.
Food critic arrives and is shown to his table.
[ Costume was tweed sports jacket with elbow
patches, shirt and tie.]
Food critic takes out small pad and pen and places
them on table.
Fastidiously surveys table, switches position of
salt and pepper, vase whatever..
Glances slightly furtively around before
surreptitiously extracting a retractable tape measure from his pocket under the
table and quite subtly measuring the distance between the edge of the table and
the ends of the knife and fork then writing those figures on the pad placed on
his right and then using the end of the the tape pushing the ends of the knife
and fork a set distance from the edge of the table then, self satisfied at his
successful subterfuge he waits.
The waiter passes by and the food critic catches
his attention with a raised hand and finger and mimes a menu, opening and
closing his palms. The waiter nods and exits, returning with the menu and
standing to the food critics right as he studies it.
The food critic points at a dish on the menu, the
waiter brightens then remembers that item is not available and conveys that by
mimed mumbling and hand movements, [hands palms down, one on top of the other
then moved away from each other twice]
The food critic shrugs nonchalantly, studies the
menu again and selects a second dish, the waiters reaction is repeated. The
second option is not available.
The third selection is, the waiter exits with the
menu.
The food critic after a short while [2 /3 mins] on
his own realises there is no water on his table .
The waiter is hovering some distance away at the
kitchen entrance.
The food critic raises his hand and finger and gets
the waiters attention. Mouths the word ‘water’ while miming tipping a glass to
his lips.
The waiter looks confused. The food critic repeats
his actions.
The waiter, questioning, mouths the word ‘water’
and mimes breaststroke.
The food critic nods affirmatively and shortly
afterwards the waiter arrives with water and pours it then departs.
Then follows at least 5 minutes of waiting. The
water is sipped, the surroundings are gazed at, but eventually, slowly, the
food critic begins to get drowsy, eventually succumbing he nods off sitting.
He remains sleeping for a minute or more before the
waiter arrives with his meal and stands beside him, a little bewildered at the
situation before clearing his throat [the only vocal sound produced in the
performance]
The foot critic snaps awake abruptly, the waiter
places the meal and begins to exit.
The foot critic immediately calls him back. The
food critic is not satisfied by the aspect of the plate and mimes the turning
of the plate. The waiter is surprised but does rotate the plate a couple of
degrees and looks at the food critic for confirmation. The food critic is not
yet happy and yet again the waiter rotates the plate. Satisfied the critic
dismisses the waiter, looks at the meal fondly, then picks up knife and fork
and puts first food into mouth. Stops, puts down cutlery and beckons waiter
firmly over.
In answer to the waiters inquiring expression the
critic places his palms above the meal and mouths, “It’s cold” He does this
twice. The waiter, understanding but a little miffed takes the plate and
returns to the kitchen with it.
one to two minutes pass
The food critic’s attention is elsewhere as the
waiter re-enters the room, walking backwards through the tables, holding a
lit candle underneath the plate of food, moving it about under the plate
in an attempt to heat the meal.
While other patrons might notice this strange
behaviour the food critic does not and the waiter puts the plate down on the
table and moves away quickly enough that the food critic does not have time to
call him back to rearrange the ‘aspect’ of the plate before he is well away and
heading back to the kitchen.
Sighing, the food critic attempts to move his plate
in an anticlockwise [or clockwise--who cares?] fashion to find that the plate
is indeed very hot.
[Also, because a candle has been used to this
effect, the bottom edges of the plate are coated with soot.]
The food critic moves the plate in increments and
between these applies his fingertips to his face in contemplative poses.
In doing so he streaks soot across his face very
obviously to all but him.
The food critic then eats his main course with due
intensity while making occasional notes.
After which the waiter returns, starts at the state
of the food critics face but carries on regardless, an inquiring expression
from the waiter is answered by a satisfied expression from the food critic who
surrenders his plate and again mimes a menu while mouthing the word “Dessert”
The Waiter nods and removes the plate and goes into
the kitchen.
The waiter emerges from the kitchen carrying a
dessert menu written on a blackboard and does not bring it to the table but
catches the food critics attention and holds the menu aloft at a distance of a
couple of tables away or at the kitchen entrance.
The food critic squints at the blackboard then
reaches into his jacket pocket and brings out a spectacle case which he opens
to discover it empty. He pats various pockets fruitlessly then squints again.
The waiter looks on expectantly.
The food critic signals that he cannot see the
menu, he shows his empty glasses case and his attitude is apologetic yet
persistently enquiring.
The waiter’s expression shows he has thought of a
solution, he signals the food critic to wait a moment, rests the blackboard
where it is and returns to the kitchen.
Returning moments later with a pair of binoculars
on a serving platter which he crosses the restaurant with and presents to the
food critic, who is momentarily puzzled but then quickly understands.
The waiter then returns to his blackboard and again
raises it and the food critic applies the binoculars and studies the menu from
across the room.
The food critic lowers the binoculars and mouths
the words “Strawberry and Cream” which is one item on the menu. The waiter nods
in understanding, mirrors “Strawberry and Cream” and quickly exits with the
board to the kitchen.
[NOTE; The binoculars have been rigged to leaves
large black circles around the eyes of the user so now the food critic has a
face smeared with soot and additionally two large black circles round his eyes
while being unaware of this.]
The food critic, oblivious to his condition and
also any reaction from other patrons waits in anticipation of dessert.
The waiter re-enters with a large plate on which,
placed in the middle is a solitary Strawberry.
The waiter places the plate and turns to go but the
food critic stops him and looks at the plate and back at the waiter and mouths
the word “Cream”
The waiter does not understand.
The food critic repeats the mouthing the word
“Cream” while miming the milking of a cow, then pointing to his plate.
The waiter understands “Oh Cream!” he mouths and
quickly exits.
Returning moments later with a pressure cream
dispenser, leaning over the table and squirting the smallest dab of cream
possible next to the solitary strawberry on the large plate. Turning to go he
is stopped by the critic who mouths the word “More” while miming a big pile on
top of the strawberry.
The waiter, growing finally frustrated, does as
instructed and again turns to go but again is stopped and the ritual of “More”
is reenacted.
The waiter then applies a very large blob of cream
in the middle of the plate and turns to the food critic for confirmation that
it finally is enough.
The food critic is satisfied and dismisses the
waiter who walks away but then circles back and while the food critic is poised
to attack his pile of cream with a strawberry buried in it it the waiter
stealthily administers a final blob of cream from his dispenser from behind the
food critic and on top of the food critics head. The waiter then exits.
So now the food critic, is eating cream, finding
the strawberry ,cutting it up and using pieces it to shovel cream and
eating his absurd dessert with relish unaware that his face is streaked with
soot, he has large black circles round his eyes and a medium blob of cream on
top of his head in a public place.
Shortly afterwards the waiter passes and the food
critic signals for the bill, the waiter indicates that the meal is on the house
and the food critic smugly accepts this development. The waiter hovers, the
food critic ostentatiously but clumsily shakes the waiters hand while
transferring a tip and then saunters self satisfied from the premises unaware
of the shocking state of himself.
THE END.
NOTES:
This was performed in a variety of restaurants for
both lunchtime and evening audiences.
Some, formica tabled, others upmarket.
Daniel Pearson [My waiter performer and performance
partner for this show- I was the critic]
who is English and who I had met at the Halifax
Street Performance Festival where he was in the original cast of the duo, ‘Men
in Coats’ was/is a talented clown and mime/non vocal performer whose timing and
characterisation lent much to the piece.
In one instance someone approached Daniel and told
him quite seriously that they had never seen a waiter as disrespectful to a
customer as he was.
and on another a patron approached and leaned over
me and said.
“I have never seen anyone treat a waiter as rudely
as you, You make me very angry, I want to hit you in the head. I have to go for
a walk now.”
Strangely both of those people were German
tourists. Just saying.....
It was interesting to see how long the theatre
could be sustained as ‘invisible’ that is, not recognised as theatre.
Sometimes me falling asleep signalled that there
was a contrived element to the situation but often there would be an envelope
of time where onlookers might suspect but not have yet confirmed to themselves
that what they were seeing was theatre.
The Binoculars were the tipping point.
Before that, even with having fallen asleep, having
soot all over my face and my interaction with the waiter being entirely
wordless, people still clung to an idea that it could be real.
It was a very interesting experiment. We received a
standing ovation from one or two venues and all were applauded.
I have not included every little piece as there
were a couple of 'bits' that established
character and status that I omitted in this narrative, just as any new
rendition would have embellishments that came with the performers inputs into
the process.
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