Tuesday, 31 December 2013

the 2013 markers


FESTIVAL 30 | Jersey Arts Centre | January

MARK RAVENHILL | pool (no water) | January




AVA-MAE AUSTIN | Year One | June

KILN COTTAGE | Devon | August


A ROYAL VISIT | The Book of Kingdoms | September

KEFALONIA | Ventura Rooms Retreat | September

NT 50 YEARS ON STAGE | November (still can't believe I did it!)

FORCED ENTERTAINMENT | Tomorrow's Parties | November


HENRY V | MGC | December

THE 23 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS | reading | writing | sleeping | playing

Sunday, 29 December 2013

district 13

Some favourite moments:

"So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts." - be well-researched and compelling

"Gale says I never smile except in the woods." - wood walks or smiles

"...the Capitol accent is affected, almost anything sounds funny in it." - less affectation vs funny

"Since almost no one can afford doctors, apothecaries are our healers." - free medicine

"I'm not the forgiving type." - not applicable

"So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong." - silence

"It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love." - thanks

"Exactly how am I supposed to work a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I am trying to slit his throat." - wit and humour

"Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station." - no crying

"... it isn't in my nature to go down without a fight." - obvious

"But I have had a lot of practice at wiping my face clean of emotions and I do this now." - acting

"Destroying things is much easier than making them." - make

"That would give me something to cling to in the surreal world of the arena, where the authenticity of everything is to be doubted."- authenticity

"What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I am not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some." - purpose

"...they did a full body polish on you." - body polishes

"There's this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because, of course, almost everyone on screen is dead." - comic irony with underscoring

"But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers." - more flowers

"A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta's name as they try to revive him." - know how to end

Friday, 27 December 2013

underwater statue

Christ of the Abyss | Guido Galletti | San Fruttuoso, Italy | 1954
Placed into the water at a depth of 55 feet in 1954

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Monday, 23 December 2013

the puppet theatre barge

Little Venice | Paddington

Wish I still had a copy of my 1984, 3,000 word project from A Level Theatre Studies. Perhaps Juliet and Grenville Middleton still have their copy that I can photocopy? Would be great to re-read it after 29 years!

'Mr Rabbit Meets Brer Santa' was enchanting: as the moon rose and as Mr Rabbit wriggled in his sack!

Lovely to meet with the three puppeteers: Soledad Zarate, Elizabeth Barron and Eti Meacock.

Some photos by: Jorge Royan

Sunday, 22 December 2013

there is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done

Photo: Johan Persson

What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!
And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
I am a king that find thee, and I know
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Saturday, 21 December 2013

tradition, form and ceremonious duty

Photo: Alastair Muir

Thus play I in one person many people, 
And none contented: sometimes am I king; 
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, 
And so I am: then crushing penury 
Persuades me I was better when a king; 
Then am I king'd again: and by and by 
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, 
Nor I nor any man that but man is 
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased 
With being nothing.

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin.


Monday, 16 December 2013

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Friday, 13 December 2013

Monday, 2 December 2013