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Taking Care: Down to the Very Last Pixel

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This is the eighth in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Rose Plotek writes about a moderated conversation between Mikaela Davies, Elissa Horscroft, and Keira Loughran that was presented in the Screening Room of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Live from Stratford”. 

Mikaela Davies and Elissa Horscroft in conversation with Keira Loughran at foldA from the Stratford Festival. Photo by Michael Wheeler.

I was asked to write about A Conversation Live From Stratford: Behind the scenes of Robert Lepage’s Coriolanus. This was a conversation between Elissa Horscroft (technical director), Mikaela Davies (assistant director), and Keira Loughran (associate producer for The Forum and Laboratory at the Stratford Festival), and was live streamed direct from the Stratford Festival to the Isabel Bader Centre for Performing arts, home of foldA.

The focus of the conversation was on the digital technologies used in the production. The digital tools used in the show are innovative in the interaction and integration of automation, video and lighting together. Though this kind of work is being done on other productions at the Stratford Festival, (this season primarily in The Rocky Horror Show), the extent of its use on this production is much more detailed, and there is simply a lot more of it. In order for the production to be fully realized the integration of these elements had to be fine-tuned until the relationship was seamless. Down to the very last pixel.

In this conversation Elissa Horscroft, technical director for the show, noted that Lepage has been clear about the fact that none of the digital technologies used in the show are new; it’s the way they are being used that is innovative. Horscroft notes that we are seeing these tools used more impactfully as we get better at using them, and as the technologies themselves continue to be developed.

The system used in this production is called VYV and was purchased by the Stratford Festival for this production through grant support. It’s a system that facilitates the integration of all the technical elements of the show (projection, automation, light).

Hoscroft notes that it’s been a very steep learning curve for the Festival’s production and creative team working with this system. VYV is entirely open, which means a lot can be done with it, but you need to know how. For the festival team the subtleties of the system were difficult to master.

Mikaela Davies and Elissa Horscroft in conversation from the Stratford Festival. Photo by Michael Wheeler.

Mikaela Davies, assistant director on the production, spoke about how the production flirts with antiquity while being firmly set in 2018. She described the digital tools as contributing to the dramaturgy of the piece. The use of technology allows the production to change location in an instant. The intention is to activate public and private space, facilitated through projection, to elevate the story, taking what is already in Shakespeare’s text but adding more dramatic tension. In this way, the technology aims to make the production culturally relevant to us in 2018. The contemporary locations, accomplished through projection, make it resonant for our world, which for Lepage is important when dealing with the classical canon.

Davies notes that Coriolanus uses cinematic tools to tell the story: the projection screens are used to create fades, cuts, etc., all tools that come from the cinema and keep the action moving at a rapid pace.

My main thought while listening to this conversation was about the people involved. How is the festival taking care of its production and creative teams, who have to learn and integrate these new tools without burning out, since the learning needs to happen as part of the production process?

Though the festival did workshop the piece over a number of years to accommodate for this shift in production model, is the institution making sure that they are taking care of their people? What can the institution do to train and educate a larger group of people so they can support each other when more and more productions are going to be integrating these new tools?  

Andre Sills with members of the company of Coriolanus at the Stratford Festival. Photo provided by the Stratford Festival.

I also can’t help thinking about Lepage, his productions of SLĀV and Kanata, and about the cultural appropriation and insensitivity that his work and he himself frequently exemplify. He is relentlessly unable to admit the slightest flaw in his own conduct or sensibility. Instead he releases fatuous statements posing as historical accuracy and timeless truths, arguments used by authoritarians since the dawn of time.

In these cases, Lepage seems to demonstrate no care for the communities he is representing on stage. He is deaf to criticism. The startling announcement that the production of Kanata will go ahead makes me wonder how much care is being given to the experience of the artists working on the production in view of the storm of controversy in which they will be immersed.

Since when has artistic freedom come before human empathy?

It seems that this form of auteur theatre making, that works so hard to make works “relevant”, is perhaps now itself becoming problematic. In a climate where collaboration and humane work conditions are increasingly valued, can the authorial vision of Robert Lepage, his way of working, fit within a new ethic around work?

Brass Tacks: Between Logistics and Possibility

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This is the seventh in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Milton Lim writes about a moderated conversation between Amy Chartrand, Jonathan Stanley, and Clayton Baraniuk that was presented in the Henry Preston Courtney and Lillian Courtney Lounge of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Brass Tacks”. 

Adrienne Wong talking Brass Tacks of Digital Experimentation with Amy Chartrand, Jonathan Stanley, and Clayton Baraniuk (R-L). Photo by Naseem Loloie.

Date June 21, 2018 Time 10:30 AM – 12:00 PM Location Conversation @ The Isabel

Brass Tacks: Speaking to logistics and possibilities in live performance, using digital media/communications.

On the morning of June 21st, we gathered beside a glass wall overlooking sunny Lake Ontario in the Henry Preston Courtney and Lillian Courtney Lounge at the Isabel Bader Centre for the Arts. Moderated by SpiderWebShow’s Adrienne Wong, Conversation #3 of the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art consisted of three speakers: Amy Chartrand, a concept writer from the Montreal multimedia studio, Moment Factory; Jonathan Stanley from Audioconexus, a Kingston tourism company; and Clayton Baraniuk, a producer and trained relaxed performance consultant. Their profiles:

Moment Factory employs over 300 artists, programmers, coders, architects, and designers to create layers of video projection, sound, and lighting that together constitute immersive and often interactive arts and entertainment spaces. When they’re not in the studio for research and development, this company leverages the abilities of many artists to create large-scale works/events to bring people together. Their work is situated in stadiums, concerts, retail stores, casinos/resorts, and public parks.

Audioconexus provides robust multilingual and multimedia experiences for boats, trolleys, trains, and trams as a way to bridge linguistic and cultural barriers. Their work primarily involves using GPS triggered information in mapping audio theatre to physical objects/places/experiences to address the global shifts in international travel. Jonathan and his company are committed to extensive one-on-one research with clients, tailoring consumer content to site-specific experience.

Clayton Baraniuk’s portfolio as a relaxed performance consultant includes Canada’s National Arts Centre, Vancouver’s Electric Company, and foldA as the Access Coordinator. His work involves making works more accessible by utilizing technology and resources to support the variety of ways in which we receive/output information. For foldA, Clayton sent early footage of performances to an audio describer in Toronto, then used teleconferencing in addition to audio assisted listening technology that was already installed in the Isabel Bader Centre to remove the barriers of time and money for sending interpreters.

Photo by Rain7kid is licensed under CC0 Creative Commons.

The conversation between the panelists consisted of familiar topics such as the bi-directionality of art dictating the use of technology and vice-versa, inquiries to Clayton as to what point accessibility and inclusivity is woven into the creation process, and questions from Jonathan as to how we use technology to reach larger audiences/communities.

As the conversation continued, I kept considering the composition of the panel members in front of us and how their distinct access to resources and levels of funding can radically change what might constitute their ‘brass tacks’ or the ‘essentials’  necessary for digital experimentation.

Side note: I’ve been thinking about how the coupling of arts funding and not-for-profit models have come to contextualize the work of artists as community-engaged culture makers. Furthermore, as a by-product of relying on precarious forms of capital (ie grants and foundations), communities of artists then operate in a paradigm of scarcity, even when they participate in the research or experimentation around digital technology, a sector that is increasingly profit driven. I felt like I was seeing some of this disconnect in front of me and in the room.

As we approached the question portion, similar concerns arose from independent artists in the audience regarding accessibility to expensive new technologies and the necessary digital literacy that is required to utilize them. I definitely wasn’t the only one thinking along these lines.

An excerpt from Moment Factory’s website, on ‘experiential marketing’:

“Modern marketing is all about relationships and emotion – keeping people engaged, building loyalty, and reinforcing distinctive brand identity. … From fun, unexpected stunts to jaw-dropping immersive shows, we take consumer experiences to a whole new level.”

Moment Factory’s language is distinctly set in business and marketing vocab, though it’s notable that this increased articulation around the commodification of experience and affect has permeated both arts and entertainment sectors.

Photo by rawpixel is licensed under CC0 Creative Commons.

As for­-profit enterprises continue to be far more lucrative avenues for digital experimentation, I am witnessing peers—technologists and media artists who are altering their practices in order to exist in and across for-profit and not-for-profit sectors or they abandon the arts industry entirely. This further distances the arts community’s access to necessary knowledge and resources which produces an integral opportunity then, to reconsider the framework within which arts funding is distributed and how we relate to these models of working. This brings up three main considerations for me:

  1. That we meaningfully bridge the perceptual divide between arts vs entertainment organizations so as to access resources and open channels of knowledge exchange (eg. theatre performance + video game companies and the exploration of participatory mechanics and immersive narrative).
  2. That we directly address the inflexibilities of the not-for-profit model in performing arts contexts that places limitations on the allocation of resources towards research and development with hardware, and on purchasing/holding the necessary capital assets for tech innovation. And to a certain extent, I even mean challenging the very notion of the arts as ‘not-for-profit’.
  3. That we look within our arts community to designers and media artists who already work with new technologies, thereby widening the institutional scope of what skills we have access to in order to facilitate skilling-up opportunities.

Certainly a lot of the above is already being attempted through various channels such as Canada Council for the Arts’ Digital Strategy Fund and the events here at foldA, including the endeavours of these three panelists/organizations. But institutions take a long time to change. In the coming years, I suspect that we’ll still be faced with the continuous growth of the economic divide, but we’ll have some new toys, and more reliable and affordable consumer technology. And if we’re lucky we’ll have in place some efficient strategies of pooling resources and provisions for equitable access to digital tools across our communities.

Yes, I am a beta-slut

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This is the fifth in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Chris Tolley writes about a conversation between Milton Lim, Beth Kates, and Rose Plotek that was presented in the Green Room of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Digital Dramaturgy”. 

Maddie Bautista stuck in the glitch in The Revolutions (SpiderWebShow). Photo by Camila Diaz-Varela.

I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Digitalorder.

Most nights I strap my Thync, a neurostimulator to my head in a quest for mind and memory enhancement. When I slouch, my UpRight sensor sends a jolt to my lower spine prompting me to stand tall. Each morning my Omron scans and tracks seven body metrics, from my resting metabolic rate to my visceral fat count.  I even have a backyard weather station that updates to the Cloud. And we all know that’s bullshit.

Yes, I am a beta-slut.

Yet, if I was to be completely honest and ask myself, do any of these cutting-edge / experimental / wallet emptying digital innovations truly make me a better person in any measurable way whatsoever – well – I don’t think I’d like the answer.

And I know, this soul-crushing question doesn’t stop there. There are many ways this part of my life, and accompanying existential anxiety, overlap with my artistic practice.

Having incorporated, or in some cases admittedly squeezed, digital elements into every theatre production I’ve created since 1998, I often find myself wondering, is this really serving the narrative?

Writing in 2006 for the London Observer, John Heilpern laid out his pecking order of culture: “I don’t go to Oprah Winfrey for the truth. I go to the theater instead. That fragile, fantastic thing we call the theater has always seemed to me to be the last place on earth where our stories can be truthfully told.”

Heilpern’s understanding of the relationship between art and truth is worth noting as he is the author of the seminal book, Conference of the Birds – The Story of Peter Brook in Africa. In this book, he recounts the epic journey Peter Brook took across the Sahara desert in search of a new form of theatre, one that explores honesty in art.

So, if we agree that honesty, or more accurately, authenticity, is the ultimate quest in our artistic practice, what we need to ask is, does technology bring our work any closer to the truth in ways text or movement can’t, or is it nothing more than a DIY weather station spinning in the wind?

Does digital innovation bring us closer to truth in performance? Photo by geralt is licensed under CC0 Creative Commons.

I was thinking about this as I entered the Green Room at the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performing Arts in Kingston for the inaugural FoldA Festival’s Digital Dramaturgy seminar. This impressive room, boasting 20-foot tall floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Ontario, was home to the hour-long debate about technology and how it can best serve theatre.

There at the front of the room was Milton Lim, one of our country’s most intriguing directors/designers. While most of us are exploring what we think are innovative practices like projection on live actors, this digital maverick is experimenting with doing away with actors altogether.

His piece okay.odd is a technological mashup; an experiment in gaming mechanism, textual frequency and automation. By completely replacing actors altogether, Milton pushes the boundaries of what we can even consider live performance. Is okay.odd a video installation, performance art, or the next wave of digital theatre? Can it even be considered theatre if there are no live actors gracing the stage?

And really, do any of these categories even matter anymore?

I met up with Milton later in the day. He was preparing to meet a Queen’s professor who had developed a holographic protocol for transmitting images digitally, basically a 3D Skype. Milton was going to connect with the professor to see what potential applications there could be for the performing arts.

I was both spellbound and, I have to admit, a little wary by this thought. Clearly, we are moving rapidly towards a world where the word ‘live’ in ‘live performing arts’ is by definition changing. Augmented reality, virtual performers and reactive sets are all moving us closer to a digitized, otherworldly experience. Otherworldly, yes. But authentic?

Anita Rochon’s Pathetic Fallacy uses green screens to connect Anita (in Vancouver) with a performer (in Kingston) at foldA 2018. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

A vigorous debate about this very question broke out at the digital dramaturgical seminar. The conversation took on a heightened level when panellist, Rose Plotek, Associate Director of the directing program at the National Theatre School mentioned that all directing students were required to work projection into their final productions.

The merits of this are obvious; if an artist is to experiment with, and possibly fail in such a complex medium, an educational environment is the safest place to do so.

Yet, an obvious counter to this argument and one raised by several at the seminar is whether forcing projection into every new work contributes to the gratuitous use of video, something we are seeing increasingly in the arts today. Does, say, a flowing river spanning the length of a scrim truly support the narrative, or is it nothing more than a cheap device littering the stage?

Of course, one can turn this argument in on itself, and this is probably the thinking behind NTS’s program. Perhaps muscling video into every production forces students to think about, and discover, the delicate balance facing all digital designers; the balance between technology truly serving theatre, and the inverse – where the production is nothing more than a slave to the technology.

As discussed in other panels over the three days at FoldA, the impact digital distribution has had on bringing our sector together is undeniable. When working in a country as geographically vast as Canada the ability to share work, via green screen enhanced two-way transmission, podcasting, and other technological innovations, can only bring our work closer to each other.  But as the lively debate at the dramaturgical seminar demonstrated, the benefits of the artistic applications of digital are far more complex, and potentially perilous. The possibilities of failure are acute.

Kevin Matthew Wong (in Kingston) performing with Vanessa and Lindsay Beze Gray (in Toronto) in The Chemical Valley Project at foldA. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

I left the workshop mulling over the delicate balance between Heilpern’s quest for truth and authenticity in art, and digital innovation. Do these technologies help us make better art, or are we merely getting caught up in a collective obsessive-compulsive digitalorder – an uncontrollable impulse to play with the latest and greatest beta release?

As the panel made clear, we are working in uncharted, artistic territory, and no one knows where this fine line truly lies. Yes, there is always risk when working on the cusp of innovation. However, the risk of inaction may be even greater.

And, ultimately, is the value really in the answer to this question, or much like the art we aspire to, is the true value in the very act of asking the question in the first place?

Thought Residency: Liam Zarrillo

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Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my final thought ah for the month of September.

September, which is objectively the hardest month of the year. Or maybe it just is to me um…

But I’ve spent most of this month actually feeling really afraid. A lot. But fear is just the other side of excitement, right? They are like two sides of the same coin.

Someone pretty smart told me that.

I’m still processing it all ah but I think that the process is to be trusted. So.

Thanks for having me. Thanks for listening.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my eleventh thought. Which is also my second last thought of this residency.

And I’m feeling some kind of self-imposed pressure to offer some sort of profound thought, to be thinking something big.

Um, but mostly, all I’m thinking about this morning is how much I hate to be rushed. And so, in the spirit of that, I’m not gonna rush it.

Today I’m going to slow down, drink water and take time.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my tenth thought.

So tonight I’m just thinking about family and traditions and rituals. And, I guess, the things that we carry with us. That families carry with them from where they’ve come from to where they are now.

And how special it is that, ah, something like a tradition or a ritual can bring people together from all different parts of the world or parts of the country. And how lucky I am to get to engage in that with my own family.

Um, we have our rituals, we have our things and… it’s kind of like the way my dad tells the same story over and over, um, it doesn’t matter how many times you hear it or how many times we engage in these traditions, ah… you’re still able to derive the same amount of joy.

And I think that’s, um, something pretty special.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my ninth thought.

Ah, so tonight I am thinking about packing. And my own process of packing and how is has become this very purposeful or intentional system of overpacking. Um, gratuitously so. Ahh, more is more, as they say, but I do wonder when it escalated to this point. Um, when it became so… obnoxious.

And I do wonder if there really is or what is the most efficient way to pack. For any kind of trip.

And if efficient and effective are really the same thing?

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my eighth thought.

Today I’m just thinking that it’s okay to do too much. And it’s okay to care too much.  And it’s okay to, uh, think too much.

Better too much, than not at all, I think.

And let’s just value things when they’re upon us, so we don’t regret it when they aren’t.

And I think that was, like, four thoughts so, you’re welcome

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my seventh thought.

This morning I was confronted with the very unexpected reminder of just how difficult and complicated my body can be. And I carried the weight of that for most of the day. But, I was also reminded by one of my favorite people in the world that, um, I actually have the right to set my own boundaries and that I don’t owe anyone an explanation, um, for how my body is or the way that it is.

And I think it’s really important to remember that.

And I think that it would be really nice actually if we spent a lot less time talking about bodies, and a lot more time talking about… anything else.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my sixth thought.

I’m in Winnipeg tonight, my hometown, and I am staring out the window, and it is raining and I’m just wondering… how do I put this… uh-um, I am wondering, um, how worth it is to know what someone else is thinking?

And how honest are we when we share what we are thinking?

What do we know, really know, versus what do we admit?

And what spaces let us be the most honest with those thoughts?

I’d say that I really have that chance here but tonight it seems I’m doing more speculating than truth-telling.

But at least this week had a bit of a theme.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my fifth thought.

So, kind of tangential to yesterday’s speculations on the truth… um, I’ve had a bit of a weird day today.

Ah, I’ve spent most of today feeling like, ah, a total imposter.

And its something that happens to me from time to time, more often than I’d like to admit.

Where I feel like an imposter in several of the different spaces, ah, that sort of make up my life.

Ah, I fear and worry that I’m not artistic enough or creative enough or, um, queer enough or trans enough or political enough…

And I find myself, y’know, looking around and wanting to ask the question: what am I doing here?

 


Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my fourth thought.

So, often when I tell folks what it is I do I’m met with the response: “Ah, that’s so awesome! You get to spend your time playing pretend! That must be so fun.”

And… yeah! I tell stories, I have SO much fun doing it. Um, but when I think about it… I think, actually, my favorite thing about theatre is that it offers an opportunity to tell the truth.

To take the most challenging, and the most difficult, the most uncomfortable, but the most honest things we encounter and share them with whoever’s willing to listen.

 

Hey, it’s Liam, and this is my third thought.

I met a new student today and when I asked him what his name was in the presence of his grandma and ah another teacher, he got really flustered and seemed super torn about what to say, and so I just asked him, “Okay, well what do you like to be called?” And the way that his face just, y’know, lit up, and it was so clear how much appreciated such a simple question, um, I found it to be ah both really beautiful and really tragic at the same time.

Y’know, as trans people we are always often, often always just so accommodating to so many people and it just has me wondering: who’s it really for and what does it even accomplish?

 

Hey, this is Liam, and this is my second thought.

It’s the first day back for teachers today and I was having a chat with a new colleague about, just, beginnings of things and anticipation and what other words there might be for that…

Kind of like that sick, twisted, nervous feeling when you’re, y’know, about to talk to a stranger. You go up to them and then what happens when you don’t get the nerve.

I had a professor back in theatre school who would refer to it, that feeling, as Sylvester the Cat about got pop his way through the fence. Making his way through that hole in the fence.

And then just hoping that you find what you are looking for on the other side.

 

Hey, it’s Liam and this is my first thought.

Uhh it is the last day of summer. And I spent it laying on the beach, my favorite beach in the world, with one of the best people I know and it was ah really sunny and really nice and warm and uhh I tried to drink a beer but I mostly just ah just laid there and was just wondering and I guess worrying ahh about what’s to come. Because it has been a minute. Umm and I think, uh I think that summertime is what saved me. That and I just keep thinking about when my Auntie Joy told me about when Hektor said “It is a good thing to give way to the night time.” Which I think is right. I think… transitions are hard.

 

Reality Augments Theatre

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This is the fifth in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Patrick Blenkarn writes about a conversation between Laura Nanni, Trevor Schwellnus, and Daniele Bartolini that was presented in the Studio Theatre of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Reality Augments Theatre”. 

A Castle on a iCloud. Photo by FunkyFocus is licensed under CC0 Creative Commons.

THE INVITED THINKERS:

Three Toronto-based artists—Laura Nanni, Daniele Bartolini, and Trevor Schwellnus.

THE THOUGHT TO THINK ABOUT:

How does reality augment theatre?

THOUGHTS ON THOUGHTS: 

Each artist presented and reflected upon the ways they have sought to infuse or engage their practice with ‘reality’. Nanni discussed her collaborations with Sorrel Muggridge; Bartolini his recent performances, The Stranger and Invisible City; and Schwellnus showed design-focused excerpts from Aluna Theatre projects that bring the live human body into dialogue with digital design. Nanni and Bartolini’s examples sparked a greater discussion centring on one-on-one performances, which was complemented by Schwellnus’ reflections on “resisting the power of the algorithm” within theatrical works—a wonderfully philosophical sounding expression that I see to be equally applicable to his design and media practice and the performance scores of Nanni and Bartolini.

Of all the ideas floated in the discussion, I was most excited to reflect upon Nanni’s and Bartolini’s reference to ‘reality’ as something that has the power to break some of the codes that have ossified our capital ‘T’ Theatre institutions—principally theatrical time and theatrical space. One can imagine including ‘reality’ in a variety of ways. For both Nanni and Bartolini, it seems most potent in the form of a participating audience member in the context of one-on-one performances. The unique quality of an unrehearsed participant enables a kind of special flexibility, spontaneity, and intimacy within a work.

Unfortunately, the ‘reality’ that a participant brings with them is up against the pragmatic ‘reality’ of how we as performance makers present our work. The pragmatics of presenting performances that incorporate that little extra realness, that unrehearsed component, can be incredibly restricting on how much we can bend and twist the medium of theatrical performance. Making one-on-one works sustainable (if one values such a thing) often requires a festival setting with many time slots and a gruellingly repetitive schedule. While there is usually a buffer time built between each experience, the restriction on time is always present, ultimately confining us (and our participants) within timeframes that feel ‘safe’ by Canadian standards. (Bartolini’s Invisible City directly challenges this by taking place over multiple days.)

Bodies in multiple realities in Lisa C. Ravensbergen’s Citation at foldA 2018. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

In my experience, that pragmatic restriction on time, for example, often translates to how much ‘reality’ the spectator/participant can contribute to a work. Some artists have made works that make me feel like I was filling a void in a structure (a variable within a rigid algorithm), others have made works that make me feel recognized, heard, and needed for the performance to be alive. In the latter, for example, there’s a chance that my response to a question from the artist might actually change the next question the artist asks me.

There was a time when even rigid participant structures were new and exciting, but, personally, I’m feeling pretty numb to them these days and really questioning the artistic desires they spring from. What are the values that underscore an artist’s desire to collect ‘real data’—you or me—in the form of audience members’ experiences/opinions/confessions? And how is that desire compounded with the ‘reality’ of a performance being prefaced by a transferring of funds from audience to artist? To some, the intimacy of the one-on-one performance can be a tiny utopia. To others, that dream of utopia is suffocated by the ‘reality’ of the spectator paying for intimacy and being a consumer of a pre-programmed theatricalized ‘reality’.

All of this brings me to Schwellnus’ ‘resisting the power of the algorithm’. There wasn’t enough time for Schwellnus to expound a master theory on the phrase, but to my mind the phrase connects all the concepts of structure, participation, and flexibility that I’m still chewing on. For me, this idea has come to mean refusing to put a performance score or structure on a pedestal. It means making the structure of one’s work—especially if it is one-on-one—flexible enough so that participants can be more than confessors in a confession box, so that ‘reality’ can really do the work of augmenting theatre in more ways than a pre-determined, artist-sanctioned one.

In light of that call for ‘more ways than one’, I’ll just say that the understanding of ‘reality’ employed in our discussion—though provoking—struck me as limited, particularly within the context of foldA. The ‘reality’ we described as an interrupting force in the one-on-one performances was still largely that of human life. The discussion did not consider, for example, digital ‘realities’ as equally real. If code breaking is of great importance to us as artists trying to work with this medium in this century, then I would argue virtual participants and their virtual ‘realities’, could similarly break these same ossified codes.

Kevin Kerr workshopping with VR at foldA 2018. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

Resisting the power of the algorithm could also mean resisting the script that suggests the only reality with which we can ‘augment’ theatre is that which belongs to human experiences/interactions outside of a traditional theatrical context.

Theatre has a great capacity to consume other art forms, objects, and events. Finding ways to digest the very real and very quickly developing technologies of video games, 3D design, VR, and more into one’s performance practice would spark new possibilities for breaking theatrical time and space, and these technologies should be seen as equally part of the constellation of real spaces, real materials, and real experiences we both inhabit everyday and traditionally exclude from theatrical contexts.

Early Adapters: Digital is Everywhere

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This is the fourth in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Stephen O’Connell writes about a conversation between Jillian Keiley and Brendan Healy that was presented in the Studio Theatre of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Digital is Everywhere”. 

Extended digital bodies in public space in Lisa C. Ravensbergen’s Citation at foldA 2018. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

Our Friday morning Start Up Challenge, “Digital is Everywhere” is hosted by Jillian Keiley and Brendan Healy. I find this title particularly enticing because it sounds like a panicked exclamation from a 1973 post-apocalyptic science fiction noir film than a morning discussion about the future of theatre;  “Digital is Everywhere”. I imagine it with a subtitle like “Soylent Green is made of people!”

The morning session is starting with a notable wave of fresh voices arriving from Toronto. The room is buzzing with excitement about Luminato and the premiere of Liza Balkan’s beautiful verbatim play “Out The Window”. At least half of the audience had either participated or attended the opening in Toronto last night and made the 3-hour trip to Kingston early this morning.

Brendan greets us as we file into the room and enter our names into a “Randomizer” app while we take our seats amongst the increasingly growing circle of digital advocates. Fear sets in when I suddenly realize he is going to call on us to participate at some point in the discussion. I haven’t had nearly enough coffee and I foolishly thought that anything to do with digital would have definitely insured my anonymity.

Keiley talks to her use of digital world for casting and text work. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

The conversation gets started with Jillian Keiley illustrating the benefits of Google Docs for any theatre director. She provides an example script full of written text, sound links, and visual images, as well as, designer and assistant director notes. Convincingly demonstrating the inclusive nature of digital documentation in a collaborative process. She goes on to explain the uses of TRELLO for casting and programming because it allows her greater objectivity without having to rely solely on memory.

Brendan Healy shared some fascinating insights and exciting news about his recent work in Brampton. A highly diverse city of 650,000 people and a population average age of 33. The city just completed a massive community consultation process. Looking ahead to 2040, the city leadership, along with significant input from the local community, aim to build a new vision of the City of Brampton.  

Healy on potential of digital tools in working with communities like the City of Brampton. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

Now the fun gets started. Brendan and Jillian introduce the RANDOMIZER game. It involves 38 questions about digital technology posed to someone in the audience RANDOMLY selected by Jillian shaking her phone. Yes, there is an app for that! Brendan tries to reassure us with, “Those who don’t wish to participate can simply remain quiet and we will continue to the next question”. Okay perhaps not so reassuring, but we let the games begin.

Jillian gives her phone a hard shake and announces the first name. “Aislinn”. One of the morning’s fresh arrivals from Toronto.

QUESTION # 21:  Have you ever used digital technology to instruct audience to participate?  

Everyone implicitly lets out a nervous little laugh.  

RESPONSE: “Why yes. Working with Michael Wheeler on the Section 98 piece.  We enabled text messaging on phones that was posted live during the show.” She continues, “The responses to the piece ranged somewhere between, ‘This is really fascinating’” to ‘This is so boring”.

Jillian gives her phone another hard shake and announces another name. “Julie”. QUESTION #1: What is your reaction when you see screens in theatre?

RESPONSE: “I am completely open to what is seen and how you show it”.

Jillian gives her phone a final shake and announces “Adrienne”.  

QUESTION # 5: How do you use digital for theatre creation?

RESPONSE: “It depends on the person I am working with. I communicate with Google Docs, organize meetings with ZOOM, track my activity with TRELLO and stay on time for the festival with the help of SLACK. I am interested in creating solutions for the largest number of people. For example, an apology generator with Simon Bloom and automated process with Dustin Harvey to rewrite and generate apologies. Did it make people feel better? I am interested in the body. Extending the body. Our bodies are expanding.”

Wheeler, Stanley, and Wong introduce the panel on the extended digital body. Photo by Naseem Loloie.

Interesting.  A further expansion of the human body into digital space? Hum… I have ambivalent feelings about that. I am writing this essay on Google docs while rendering 360 video on Premiere Pro and listen to Spotify on my 5 year old Macbook Pro, when I would prefer to be running in the park. I distrust most of my devices; and I am deeply saddened by the feelings of alienation I experience standing on a subway platform surrounded by everyone checking their instagram and twitter feeds.  

Yet I am currently collaborating on an iOS phone app for live performance. Why? Because I would agree with Adrienne. Our bodies have expanded. Technology is a tool not too dissimilar to a brush and canvas, that is only limited by the imagination of the individual who applies it. The future is quickly approaching and in the rear view mirror of time it is the early adapters that can and will make a meaningful impact on the future.

If you approach the conversation from a Darwinian perspective it makes reasonable sense that adaptation lends itself to evolution.  I am suggesting that paint and brush, although not irrelevant, are highly romantic tools to be working with. The larger question is HOW will theatre navigate extinction in the age of mixed reality and artificial intelligence? The essence of good theatre is storytelling and a good story leaves one wanting to know what happens next. I for one want to know what’s next.

Podcasts as Theatre

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This is the third in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Signy Lynch writes about a conversation between Jesse Brown and Michael Wheeler that was presented in the Film Department Lobby of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Canadaland the Podcast, the Book, the Play”. 

Canadaland playing to a + 1000 house at The Hot Docs Theatre in Toronto.

An array of individuals gathered at the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performing Arts in Kingston, Ontario for a panel on Canadaland, the Canadian media and politics podcast. Attendees included theatre artists—some of them tech whizzes and some self-admitted technophobes (Donna Michelle St. Bernard said in an earlier panel on technology and disruption ‘for me the technology is the disruption’)—industry people and administrators, and academics like myself.

Canadaland founder Jesse Brown and Spiderwebshow Artistic Director Michael Wheeler met to discuss the relationship between the Canadaland podcast, the related book, A Canadaland Guide to Canada, and the live show, directed by Wheeler. For me this panel prompted several key questions: how can we understand the popularity of podcasts (and related live shows), and what tools might they offer to theatre/performance makers? What is the relationship between the live and the recorded? Finally, If the medium is the message then what messages is Canadaland communicating through these multiple forms?

A Canadaland Guide to Canada’s World Tour of Canada, described by Brown as, ‘a comedy show with an audiovisual treatment,’ was conceived of to promote the Canadaland book. It toured to several sold-out crowds at music venues and converted old movie theatres last year. Brown characterized it as part of an emerging circuit of non-traditional live performance (another example brought up was the popular ‘Drunk Feminist Films’ events) described as, ‘like theatre that people want to go to’.

 

To the envy of some theatre makers, live shows spun-off of podcasts are becoming a defining element of the podcast form, and will readily fill an auditorium. Brown reported that some media companies are now looking to develop podcasts specifically for the purpose of securing the revenue from an accompanying live show. So how do these forms relate? Do they provide audiences with two different yet complementary experiences, or instead offer one continuous experience running through two different forms?

Through Wheeler and Brown’s discussion, it became clear that the two forms are shaping each other. Live shows attended by podcast fans may in turn be recorded as podcast episodes. However, Brown said that he generally prefers to listen to episodes recorded in a studio over those recorded live. To maximize enjoyment, the challenge then becomes how to design a live show that is equally enjoyable as a podcast episode. Brown offered one suggestion: that ‘the audience has to do something more than just clap.’

A key difference between a traditional podcast and a live show is the move from solo listening to a collective experience. Those attending the show in person can experience this collectivity in ways that aren’t available to those listening in, so by incorporating the voices of audience members perhaps some of this experience can be transmitted to podcast listeners. Interestingly, this demonstrates how the development of these works happens on an intermedial level.

But what kind of experience is being shared here? An audience member at the panel mentioned that the appeal of podcasts lies in the intimacy they create for their listeners; perhaps satisfying what Walter Benjamin called “the desire of contemporary masses to bring things “closer” spatially and humanly,” (Benjamin 225). In their own ways, both the podcast and live show could be said to be working towards this end and chase different kinds of intimacy (or immediacy): the visual and spatial intimacy of the live show and the aural intimacy of the podcast.

Drunk Feminist Films has had success turning a prerecorded show into a live event.

Another way to understand their relationship is through Philip Auslander’s argument that live performance has become a way of authenticating and ‘naturalizing’ the mediatized: “according to a simple logic that appeals to our nostalgia for what we assumed was the im-mediate: if the mediatized image can be recreated in a live setting, it must have been “real” to begin with”  (43). At the same time, Brown speculated that people are attracted to these live shows in order to “be a part of the podcast”. In this way, the live show both validates the authenticity or ‘realness’ (and thus the listening experience) of the podcast, and is also a means to incorporate the podcast’s listeners into the recorded work.

Also interesting to me was what the discussion revealed about the role of place in podcasts. Despite the podcast form being ‘freed’ from the strictures of the local (unlike ‘traditional’ theatre), the local still plays an important role. Brown speculated that audiences may be drawn to live podcast shows by the feeling that something will happen that’s particular to a place (‘how will Toronto respond to the show?’). Travelling podcasts and live shows generally try to capitalize on this by integrating something local–for example, having audience members share personal stories. This act could be said to put the place back into the unlocalized podcast form.

When asked what strategies Canadian content creators can use to engage with larger audiences, Brown noted that creators should be hyper-specific rather than broadening their scope, and not erase a sense of place. To pitch to the United States, Brown would narrow in, making a podcast about a place (as opposed to just set in one), mentioning a Thunder Bay podcast in development and the hugely popular S-Town about a small Alabama town.

This point was particularly intriguing to me because of a comment in an earlier panel that podcasts are useful to theatre artists for their ability to break out of regional lines. Here we see how podcast content may travel across regional lines but still remain itself strongly localized. This trend towards the specific demonstrates another kind of drive to intimacy and immediacy, as the podcast creates for its audiences up-close experience of places that may be far away.

The panel finished with a few comments about how podcasts can be politically useful through their ability to challenge dominant narratives. I would have liked to have heard more, but the brief discussion left me with the question: how much does this possibility for subcultural expression inform podcasts’ widespread appeal?

Works Cited

Auslander, Philip. Liveness: Performance in a Mediatized Culture. 2nd ed. London ; New York: Routledge, 2008.

Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” Illuminations: Essays and Reflections. Ed. Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken Books, 1968. 217-251.

Who does ATP belong to?

By
ATP’s Martha Cohen Theatre

Who does a theatre company belong to?

I understand the technical answer to this question. I know about the governance structures and fiscal responsibilities of not-for-profits. My question is existential. It’s being asked in the context of Alberta Theatre Projects’ sudden decision to cancel Without the Rule of Law by Michaela Jeffery, and fire the artists who were working on it seven months before opening.

In 2015, ATP, then under exclusively female leadership, collapsed under the weight of a global oil crash. I cared a lot about their finances then. I gave as much money as I could to help them through because of their principled mandate and history and only after other members of the community led the way. Obviously, that exercise didn’t give individual donors control over the future operations of the company, but it did compel them forward with our confidence. In political campaign terms, we gave them a mandate to continue. After last week, I’ll bet a lot of us want our money back.

I remember when Vicki Stroich called me to confirm that Vanessa Porteus had agreed to produce my play, The Apology. It was the biggest deal I had ever made. Moreover, the play was about transgressive sexuality. It was a risk. Like Jeffery, I had graduated from NTS, paid my dues, hoped and prayed, gotten into the Banff Colony and then struck gold when I met Vicki there. I imagine Jefferies felt just as blessed when she got the good news.

The spring before I was to participate in the Enbridge PlayRights Festival, I had been in Kitimat BC, literally campaigning on doorsteps against the Enbridge Northern Gateway Pipeline. Not to worry, Vicki assured me. ATP wouldn’t be censored by their sponsor in any way. In fact, they were producing an environmentalist play about the evils of big oil right now. She invited me to a fancy dinner with the oil execs. I was not told not to talk about politics.

A few months later, I told them I was pregnant. Not to worry, I was told for the second time. They would pay for me to have a bigger room so my family could help me with my five-week (!!) old baby. They would allow for any accommodation I needed. Diane Goodman would drive me places and cook me several pasta casseroles.  

On the evening that my play opened, Joan MacLeod was there, premiering one of her new works. She took me aside while I was nursing the baby and said: “I just want you to know that after my first play premiered at the PlayRights Festival, my entire career took off. It was a huge night for me.”

Joan MacLeod would not be Joan MacLeod without ATP. I would not still be a playwright without ATP. Countless female writers would not be where they are without ATP. Of course, I feel grateful, but I also feel we deserved the opportunities they gave us, the accommodations they made for us, and the feminist stories they told when they staged our plays.

Michaela Jeffery is entitled to those experiences. They are no longer how theatre should be made: they are examples of the treatment we are entitled to. Since then, I’ve demanded nothing less from any other institution I work for.

It was pernicious for APT ED Darcy Evans to exploit a diversity justification in his first of two announcements regarding the cancellation of WROL. Creating false distinctions between racial, sexual, class and gender justice is bad politics, as any intersectional feminist will tell you. In theatre terms, measuring the artistic “diversity” content of both plays is an offensive exercise in leveraging oppression against the value of the individual artists: Who’s weightier when quantifying diversity? An actor? A director? A designer? Both plays are written by white people. Besides, Evans and his board made this decision because of money.

Fundamental change is required to support racial diversification of Canadian theatre, including at ATP. What Evans wrote to the public last week was an unhelpful appropriation of that work and the language of equity.  

We should care, separately, that our theatres are underfunded, that big oil divestments from institutions are an example of why corporate capitalism and art are incompatible, and that crowdsourcing to keep a theatre from closing its doors is a sad failure of a dysfunctional artistic ecosystem. In this case, deprogramming the first big play of a homegrown young writer – one that was nurtured, developed and programmed within that company – is such unethical behaviour that it obliterates all rationalizations. Eleven local artists (three people of colour, and eight women for those who insist on counting) were fired. The play is already billed up on the marquee for the whole world to see.

More than most theatre companies, Alberta Theatre Projects belongs to the community. ATP has premiered more Canadian playwrights than any other company west of Ontario. (More than 150 of our plays have premiered there.)  It has seeded and grown a theatre-going audience of Calgarians that wants to see new Canadian plays.  Over the past decade, under the leadership of Porteous, Stroich, Goodman and Green, it has manifested a feminist practice rooted in their methodologies, the transformative political plays programmed there, and the very fact that they supported and paid for new work (sadly, a radical act in itself).  

A company like ATP exists in a mutual symbiosis between audiences, artists and producers. A change of leadership may have the legal right to obliterate this legacy, but it does not have the social or moral right.

Theatres are not like other businesses. (I know! I just said that!) They don’t only provide a service to the public, they also create the possibility of art in society. When they fail, they take the futures of hundreds of artists with them. I believe every person in every community has the right to art in their lives. I don’t think Darcy Evans should have the right to cancel it, with or without the rule of law.  

 

What is Digital Disruption?

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This is the second in a series of articles capturing the planned conversations and discussions at the inaugural Festival of Live Digital Art (foldA), in Kingston ON, June 19-June 21, 2018. Madison Lymer writes about a conversation between Donna-Michelle St. Bernard and Andrew D’Cruz that was presented in the Studio Theatre of the Isabel Bader Centre for the Performance Arts titled “Disrupting the Status Quo”. 

Photo by Jerry Kiesewetter

It’s 2018. Doug Ford is Premier, Donald Trump is President, Stephen Colbert reports more facts than Fox News, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez could be the youngest woman elected to Congress, and in a couple of months weed is going to be legal in Canada. What is status quo?

Throughout foldA I was struck by two conversations.

The first was about how far behind we, as artists, are when it comes to technology. At the festival bar someone remarked, “Imagine a Silicone Valley theatre company, imagine what could be done with infinite tech resources”.

Another conversation was with Christine Quintana, a Vancouver based creator, who remarked at what a difference tech could make to protest. Imagine a sound company sponsoring a rally and everyone being able to hear the ideas and speeches clearly. It became clear to me throughout the week that disruption is possible, but it’s going to take a lot more resources and collaboration to effectively get there.

The truth is, it’s hard to disrupt something that’s non-existent. The world has changed drastically in the last 20 years and perhaps I hadn’t given that enough consideration when I first watched the Disrupting the Status Quo conversation with CBC Arts Executive Producer, Andrew D’Cruz, and Playwright/ Performer, Donna Michelle St. Bernard. It’s possible I took my life with technology for granted when I formed my first opinions on St.Bernard and D’Cruz’s conversation. As individuals, we’re running to keep up with the latest digital invention. As arts workers and organizations we’re struggling to come to terms with evolving our forms on unstable and unreliable platforms, often without resources.

The speed at which we adjust to change is dependent on the individual, but in a world that changes by the tweet, it’s safe to assume we’re all adjusting to something new. St. Bernard spoke about being uncomfortable with technology as she felt a lack of control. D’Cruz pitched that CBC Arts had revolutionized its practice by using a “digital first approach” which translates to creating content for the social media market and then working backwards to long forms. I felt confused. How was this disruption? Had there been confusion about disrupting the status quo under the guise of a digital arts festival?

Playwright and Performer Donna Michelle St. Bernard in conversation with CBC’s Andrew D’Cruz in a discussion of disruption as part of The StartUp at foldA.

The theme of the talk had evolved into a discussion about how both creators had disrupted their own practice with digital arts. What was fascinating was how both St. Bernard and D’Cruz agreed that a move towards digital was inevitable. D’Cruz remarked, “If we don’t engage with that reality (of cell phones taking over) then we’re missing an opportunity”. St. Bernard, while admitting to being uncomfortable with technology, agreed that using digital arts in performance gave information that she herself was not able to convey to an audience. In such uncertain times, it was clear that these creators agreed that we need to re-invent and push ourselves outside of our comfort zones in order to break the status quo.

Towards the end of the conversation, St. Bernard and D’cruz touched on “placing equity above style”. They were referring to their work with Tamyka Bullen an artist who speaks and communicates through ASL, but this overall sentiment may be the big takeaway from the conversation. Our digital lives can move at lightning speed, but we need to ensure equity keeps its seat at the table as we surge forward.

It’s clear that we’re living in a time of great uncertainty. The way things were is no longer, and a lot of us are finding life unpredictable. Whether that be politically, economically, or even, digitally. Status Quo in 2018 may actually mean uncertainty.

Perhaps in order to disrupt that uncertainty, we must find new ways to ground our own practices. If we shift our focus to equity and continually disrupt with the purpose of expanding our tables and collaborating with new voices, then a new status quo may emerge. One where the tech industry and arts world are not so separate. One where voices with a message can be heard, even if they are not accompanied by money. One where any artist of any ability can have the opportunity to create, to play, and to be heard. This may sound idyllic, but then instant digital connection with one another once did too.

 

Thought Resident: Mariah Horner

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Hello, this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #14, my last thought.

Today I’m thinking about rigour. I’m thinking about um…the…artists and the people and the peers that I look up most…that I look most up to are those who are rigourous.

And I think that rigor is so sexy. Finishing a thing all the way to the end of it and being relentlessly curious about something that you explore all the corners is, for me, one of the most admirable traits about people.

And I want to challenge myself to be more rigourous, be more rigourous in every aspect of my life. Be relentlessly curious. Do the thing all the way to the end. Just like this residency.

Thank you all so much for listening. If you did, it’s been a hoot.

 

Hello, this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #12 (no it’s not, it’s #13).

And last night I went for a run having not ran in a very long time and it felt terrible but also felt amazing and um…I was thinking about one of the reasons I love running so much is that I love…I’ve never been a very athletic person and I love with running that you always get back exactly what you put in. You just have to show up, you just have to try and you just have to run and every time you run it gets easier. It doesn’t matter about your skill it really just matters about you showing up.

And…I think more things in life are like this than we give credit for? You know so many things just require you to show up and just putting yourself in those running shoes or putting yourself in that room….you’d be surprised at the output you get depending on how hard you try.

 

Good morning this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #12.

And this morning I’m thinking about Patrick Conner. I didn’t know him before, but I know him now. He was a very celebrated artist – an actor, a director – he worked in Toronto but he also came from Kingston and he worked a lot here.

I’m thinking a lot about him…because…you know…I’m thinking about what it means to really change the world through your work. And I know we all think we’re doing that. We put something out there and it affects people and it affects imagination and it comes back to us and we see that the world has changed and you know…one thing I’m really moved by Patrick, and you know his work with Big Carrot, it’s about created a healthy society it’s about understanding that the work that you put out in the world can affect a civil imagination. It can affect more than just one person at a time, it’s about a society, it’s about a culture, it’s about something that is nurtured.

 

Good morning this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #11.

And I don’t know if this happens to any of you but sometimes I wake up and I have an immediate thought about something that is gonna happen during the day. Often for me it is breakfast….immediately when I wake up I know what I want for breakfast. But TODAY when I woke up it was a beautiful fucking day, it is blue skies all around in Kingston.

And uh…I’m lucky enough to have an office that is very close to the Gord Edgar Downie Pier which is an awesome new public urban beach that the city of Kingston built. SO when it is a beautiful day that means I go swimming. At lunch! Swimming! at Lunch!

So today I woke up thinking how fucking lucky I am that I get to jump in the lake, the St. Lawrence, on a beautiful sunny day in the middle of August, in the middle of my workday. Have a great Thursday everybody.

Hello this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #10.

And…this morning I’m very tired [laughs]…and I’m really tired because I stayed up very late with a friend of mine who is going through some very difficult stuff and as I was leaving his house I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him but I stumbled all over my word choice because….I feel like the word proud carries some patronizing tones…and I think about this all the time…that I wish there was another word for pride… for for being proud of somebody who’s like the same age as you or proud for somebody who’s in the same moment as you.

Adoration? Admiration? I don’t know.

 

Good morning this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #….9!

And this morning I’m thinking about…well I’ve been thinking about it all weekend actually…um…I love this book by Sarah Ruhl. It’s called “A Hundred Essays I Don’t Have Time to Write” and it’s like a hundred little paragraphs unpacking little things very briefly um…and I generally like this kind of writing it keeps me squirrely.

Um…but in the book she talks about this quote that she uses with her son which is “it’s beautiful but I don’t like it”. And um…you know I’ve seen some theatre and seen some art this summer that I wasn’t exactly inspired by and I challenge myself to use that phrase every time I get backed into a corner of like “that was bad” or “I didn’t dig that” just because I didn’t dig it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t exist.

 

Hello this is Mariah and this is thought #8.

And uh…today I had somebody ask me what my favourite lyric was. And I was thinking about the fact that I’ve never really been good at having like favourite movies, or favourite plays, or favourite albums and I was thinking about the reasons and you know… I think it’s because…I don’t hoard things I love. I think it’s because I love to rediscover things that I love all the time, you know…and maybe that keeps me forgetful and um…but I feel like it always keeps me guessing it always…it also…I have…beauty forced upon me all the time. I’m reminded of things all the time, things that I love. I could catalogue them.

 

Hello this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #7.

And this morning my favourite painter died, Mary Pratt. She…uh…was a painter from Newfoundland and I still remember the first time I ever saw one of her exhibits. I was at The Rooms, an awesome museum in St. John’s, Newfoundland and I was struck by her ability to make everyday objects look exceptionally and unimaginably beautiful. And I know that’s a silly word to use but it was foil and salmon carcass’ and cartons of eggs that looked like…you know…it could hang in the Louvre. And…um…I’m….I’ve always been really moved by the ability to remind us that um…everyday life is exquisite.

 

Good morning this is Mariah Horner and this is Thought #6.

And I went to bed thinking about it and I woke up thinking about it – Darrah Teitel’s brilliant article on what’s going on at ATP. I think she totally hit the nail on the head when she talks about the fact that communities own arts organizations. That there is a certain responsibility to look to the world you’re producing in to understand who you should be.

And yes I’m not saying that we need to have an AGM or a referendum for ever decision that’s being made within an arts organization no, but what I am saying is that I think the reason that this is such a disaster (what’s going on at ATP) is this dude parachuted in, made a decision like a traditional business without real context from the community and the community said no, this is not who we are, this is not the kind of work we wanna support, this is not who we believe we should be moving forward and I feel like I see this all the time.

 

Hello this is Mariah and this is my fifth thought.

And today I’m home actually in the suburbs visiting my parents and I drove around a bunch today and I was struck by how little everything has changed. I think because the burbs don’t change, I noticed how much my parents change. And you know…it’s an age old thing that everybody knows they should go home to visit their parents but…I should really go home to visit my parents more. I’m lucky that they’re so close to me and I’m embarrassed and I’m bummed that I don’t do a better job at staying in touch. And um….

Not the burbs though [laughs] I don’t miss the burbs. I don’t miss the suburbs at all.

Have a good weekend everyone.

 

Hello. This is Mariah and this is Thought #4.

And this morning I am thinking about mentorship…I know I’ve had a yearlong under the Metcalf with two organizations and although this mentorship afforded me SO MUCH professional growth in arts administration I kind of think that it’s um…also affected my abilitiy to trust my own instincts when it comes to making decisions.

You know, I value mentorship as a practical learning-based thing but I also learned that right now I feel like I am thrust into a sea alone and I can’t make decisions without talking to a lot of other people and maybe that’s a good thing in theatre, maybe it’s a good thing for my career path because I’m interested in collaborative learning but I also think it sometimes makes me distrust my own instincts and I wonder if there is a word for personal mentorship? Like if you could separate yourself into two people? I don’t know.

 

Hello this is Mariah and this is thought number three and this morning I’m thinking about Brian’s Record Option.

If you’re from Kingston, you definitely know that this happened and if you’re not I’m here to tell you about Brian’s Record Option. It’s the coolest place in Kingston. It’s a record store that has 80,000 records and 20,000 cassettes and even more CDs and books and posters and the coolest fucking dude in town and last week he had a flood and water rose up from his basement and up waste deep and books and records and posters came pouring out of the store onto Princess street and this morning I’m thinking about how you can possibly replace something that’s irreplaceable and what happens when you’re angry and mournful for the loss of something that was no one’s fault but it was an accident but it’s such a huge hole in the heart of the city and I am heartbroken and optimistic about my community’s ability to rebuild things that are precious.

 

Hello, this is Mariah Horner and this is my second thought.

This morning I’m thinking a lot about the difference between a company and an enterprise and the people that work…within it. So I’m involved right now in a transition with um…a company I work for and today I am tasked with transferring all of the contacts for the relationships and the stories that were told this year.

And I’m feeling really protective and stubborn about that and I think the reason is because I’m struggling with understanding that um, especially in a community-based endeavour with relationships that are mined and sweat for and cared for….I’m having trouble understanding that is owned by a company and that is not owned by the individuals that worked to nurture those relationships. Obviously I’m very protective of um…people that I connect with and I’m all for knowledge sharing I really am, but maybe this is my ego or my naïveté but I’m struggling with it. I’m grappling with it.

 

Hello. My name is Mariah Horner and this is my first thought of the August Thought Residency in 2018 with SpiderWebShow.  And today I’m thinking about…something that I think that I should be worried about but I’m not. And I always wonder if other people do this…and if your brain is tricking you into be worry – into worrying about that something you shouldn’t be worried about because you’re not worried about it in the first place.

I finished a year-long internship today. And I don’t really know what’s next for me. And I’m not worried. I’m excited. And I don’t know, maybe if I should be worried? And I’m sure my mother is maybe listening to this and she’s like…”you should be worried”.

But I’m not. I feel ready. And empty and full. And excited.

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