Blindfolded and Dizzy

This past Tuesday I did a quick bit of lighting design for a performance of Baggage by Fateh Azzam, as part of Horseplay, Proud Camden's monthly theatre event. And let's just say it was...interesting.

The space was unable to give me any idea of what, if anything, of their lighting inventory I could use until about an hour before the performance. I did know I couldn't use anything that wasn't theirs on their rig, could not redirect their power, and couldn't re-program any component of their light board. I had a copy of their inventory that was about 4 years out of date, but no inkling of what was in the air or already in use.

I also had no idea until a few minutes before the final run-through of where in the space the show would be, the shape or size of the playing space, or what the set (if anything) would look like.

The one-act, one-man show was staged on the back wall of...well, they call it an art gallery, but let's be honest. It's a nightclub, complete with stage. The stage, pre-set for bands that evening, had dozens of profiles focused on it that I was forbidden from touching. It also had some fun colour-changeable LED par cans that I couldn't use, LED strips I wouldn't have used if I could, and one of those spinny ball trash lights that gave me The Fear. It was no more and no less than a good setup for a dance club. It was in no way intended for theatre use.

The space also had 5 mini movable lights and 2 mirror scanners, as well as 4 par 56s trained on a metre-wide disco ball in the centre of the room. The pars were ready-coloured with half-amber, half-rust tone gels (i.e. two gels taped together on each fixture) which actually did throw a fairly attractive colour over the entire room if you put them on at full. (The dance club never had them on brightly, but rather kept them at about 40% and got the ball spinning to suggest warmth and movement in all dim corners of the room.)



The control room contained an Avolites Azure Shadow lighting desk, a contraption and interface I had never before laid eyes on. After about ten minutes of poking at it I finally figured out how to isolate instruments and get them to stop spinning around and flashing patterns, and after twenty I had every light I could find steady on the playing space. The mini movables quickly proved useless--at their whitest, brightest, biggest, and furthest out of focus they threw a beam about half a metre across--perfect for crazy shapes on the dance floor, difficult at best for an actor's face to be in at the right time, and mine had twenty minutes. Also, of the five available, 2 worked okay, one could tilt but not pan, one was permanently half-shuttered and lurid red, and one was trapped pointing at the ceiling, never to come down again. Two LED pattern flashers were available, but after five minutes of poking them I couldn't get them to be anything but green. I guess that's what happens to club lx when such rock-out acts as "Whiny and the Synthesizers" and "White Middle Class Rebellion" reach a climax.

So. To say the least, I did what I could. I reined in the mirror scanners, much to their chagrin, and kept them white, big, and stationary. They were helpfully on opposite ends of the other side of the room, so when I roughly centred their beams it looked almost intentional. I kept the mirror ball from spinning and turned up the ambiance lights on it all the way for seating, and when the audience was mostly settled, faded out the rear-most two to suggest the house lights were now off. The front two stayed on so the actor could see the audience's faces, and provided some depth. I faded them down a bit when it seemed appropriate, brought the green LEDs up a trice for fill, and occasionally crossed between the white scanners and the amber room wash to suggest a scene change, but that was about it.



What makes this even more fun was the fact that I was working in program mode. Unable to save anything, and with the board already filled with flashy-trash cues and subs for the lighting-illiterate sound guy to run at random, I worked with the CLEAR button flashing at me constantly, just begging me to bump it and reset everything to default (read: flashy trash). I controlled fades, not just manually, but by selecting the fixtures in the computer and spinning the movable lighting programming wheel in 'dimmer' mode, or punching dim 19 @ full for snaps. Was there a better way? I have no idea. If I never come across an Azure Shadow again it will be too soon.

The audience accepted it, I guess--nothing exploded and they could always see. At least nobody looked particularly surprised or annoyed at how shit the lighting was. I could have done a lot worse with five dimmers (three of which, remember, were on a disco ball) and an hour to learn an entirely alien console. I doubt it would have been possible for me to do much better. At least I didn't push the scanners past 50% on the dimmer--at 51 they start flashing, and at 90 they strobe. That would have been...bad.

Lautes Lego, A Retrospective

A few weeks ago I tried out another form of theatrical weirdness. Titled "Lautes Lego" and performed by the one-night-only D.I.Y. Theatre Collective, I asked my audience to build their own scenery.


Daisy Duke's Dumpster Den--a redneck roadhouse for a silly hillbilly scene.


You guessed it. With Duplo.

There is something wonderfully coarse about Duplo. Even the most inspired artistic creation by a professional sculptor looks delightfully clunky rendered in the medium. It is very difficult to build a Duplo structure with any finesse or precision, which is precisely why I chose it.


Insight Farm--for hospitality and chickens

Audience members offered a pile of building blocks intended for 3-5 year olds will not feel the need to create anything highly detailed or fancy, which allows simple form and function to shine through. Five minutes with the blocks, laughing and re-shaping, and they've come up with a good rough outline of what they want. This is useful for several reasons--it saves time, but it also offers everyone the confidence to make something creative without having to worry about it being a masterpiece. The simplicity and relative fail-safety of the medium encourages participation among persons who would otherwise feel intimidated. (sticks of modelling clay or paints and brushes would not only be more daunting, but the performers would have less of a consistent product to refer to. also, they generate waste.)


Happy Tower-Retirement Centre for the Stars! (setting for an existential crisis)


Many audience members took delight in constructing a set, but were reluctant to give it a name or theme. The building part was much more fun than thinking. This became more apparent as the night progressed and the audience became even more interested in drinking.


The Cyclops House of Seduction, made by a couple who wanted a raunchy piece.

This has been an ongoing problem in my work.

The performers, in keeping with the DIY nature of the scenery, also asked the audience to come up with first and final lines of sketches, a time limit, and asked that they select an improv game or technique to use, such as "one performer cannot talk," "do the entire scene in reverse" or "do the entire scene as if you have no clothes on." This helped form the structure for the action and allowed each piece to be tailored to the audience's fancy.

It was also needlessly difficult.

The audience, while eager to build their own sets, approached the line-writing task with reluctance and didn't want to choose an acting style at all. I think the reasons for this were many and various. While the Lego was straightforward and provided its own inspiration to a large extent, the idea of writing lines or constructing elements of play seemed too much like work. After the glee of creating a structure and seeing it projected ten times its size on the back wall, audience members wanted the performers to magically be inspired by it and create something on their own. And occasionally they could--if the structure was interesting and sensible enough. Other constructions, like the aptly-named "The Horse with a Chicken on Top and Other Stuff" (not pictured) offered the performers less than nothing to go on, meaning not only was what they came up with uninteresting, but it left them annoyed.

And therein lies the most important hitch with DIY-style theatre. Anything which relies on any creativity from the audience is highly unreliable. There are plenty of people out there who just don't have a creative bone in their bodies. Moreover, there are plenty of people who come to the theatre expecting to be passively entertained, which means if they're called upon to contribute in any meaningful way they're at a loss. They may catch on after a few minutes of diving around in their heads (think. Think!) but anyone suddenly thrown into not just an interactive environment, but a proactive role, may find themselves a little overwhelmed.

I think, if I choose to try Lego again, I'll leave it just at that. I'll have my performers prepared with a selection of scenes, or at least mix-and-match roles, that they can jump into when given a relevant set. Last time it called for barnyard activity, industry, espionage, rednecks, and lust, which is a good start. We could throw in scenes concerning retail, outer space, castles, and sporting events just to be on the safe side, but it makes more sense (and speeds processes) to prepare the performers with something they know they can do rather than expect them to come up with something brilliant on the spot.

For my own records, the rest of this post is a list of what audiences wrote--their lines and set titles. Some of the titles include suggestions for what the scene should be about, others are just the places.

Set Titles

Insight Farm
Daisy Duke's Dumpster Den
Donkey's Dockyard
Jaunty Farm. (Find the traveller's baby!)
Plane Train Crane. (the Russians are trying to blow it up!)
Aldwych, London. The Docklands. (Smugglers, Pirates, and the Crown Jewels)
(yet another) Oil Spill
Happy Tower--Retirement Centre to the Stars!
The Cyclops House of Seduction
The Horse with a Chicken on Top and Other Stuff

Lines (Audience--first and last are coupled)

I promised myself I wouldn't cry today.
Yes, I suppose the pool would be best.

I'm the last of my species, actually.
Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me!

Pluck me, please, treat me like your toy guitar.
He walked in, aghast to find her rolling around in the buff with her goldfish.

Mmm, cauliflower cheese.
You'll have to take me to the cells, officer.

That's a nice shoe emporium.
And other stuff.


Lines (Preset by actors, if audience would rather just select one)

Just because you've taken your top off doesn't mean I'll take you back.

If you've got anything to say, say it now.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.

I don't love you any more.

The End.

I'll be back.

This reminds me of a Lady Gaga song.

Wait--if you're here, who's in the car?

So, are we going or not?

Just put the gun down.

I said 20 grams, not 50!

I'm sorry, it's all my fault.

Lautes Licht: Underwater(loo): In Hindsight

Audience-led and designed theatre. The next logical step in the evolution of interactive performance. Good idea?

sorta.

When I set out to study audience interactivity 9 months ago I had no idea that I would be gestating a concept that, while innocent in guise, would disturb me so very much. But here I am, nearly a year later, mother of a form of theatre that gives the audience the power to abuse performers. My performers.

And the scary part is, they use it.

Even perfectly good and generous people take the opportunity to cause harm. Gentle souls enter the room and within moments begin smacking the talent with light, giggling with fiendish glee. Many run, wild-eyed, to grab their friends and show them the sado-masochistic game they've found.

Remember the theme? Red Light Night! A chance for us to act like prostitutes. Most acts were sexy and suggestive dances and acrobatic feats. (or in the case of the March Performance Project, "provocatively tasteful" dances) Lautes Licht, on the other hand, is actually a form of prostitution, so I didn't feel the need to belabour the point by doing anything raunchy.

For the most part, every performance was a completely mundane task. Eating, drinking, running, hopping, putting on make-up, dancing like you would in your kitchen, and so forth. And at low lighting, most of these actions were inoffensive, even pleasant. Recounting a story, munching a loaf of bread, sipping some wine. But if you turned the lights up, it became less enjoyable. She's no longer idly stroking her arm, she's slapping it. Hard. Idly shifting her weight becomes running full-out, sweating, in red spiked heels. Putting on make-up becomes the frantic daubing of a woman who will never be pretty enough for herself.


All the while, the actors stay the course, doing what they're told by the objective power of the light.

I shouldn't feel bad. The actors are not only all competent, talented veterans of this interface, but they came up with their characters and actions themselves. The woman who is alternately bruising her arm and gorging herself on bread not only volunteered for this, she worked hard to develop it in relation to the dramaturgy of the piece. The girl who has set herself the task of jumping in place is only grimacing in pain at high intensity because she wants to communicate to the audience the power they are happily abusing. The actress who is running as fast as she can in heels...demonstrates nothing but commitment to her art.

They set their own limits. They knew what they could do for ten minutes at a stretch. They knew it was hard work but only for one night. They knew. They volunteered. They did exactly what they chose.

Sheez I'm a horrible person.

At the end of the second performance (we had time for 3) we called it off. Believe it or not, not because the actors were exhausted and in pain, but because I didn't trust the audience. Half way through the show they started getting belligerent and stopped contributing to the piece in any meaningful way. (this may have been caused by the venue's refreshment sales, which were primarily alcoholic in nature.) Dimmer operation, which had earlier worked through a sort of bandwagon effect to orchestrate the performance, dissolved into meaningless jerking and flashing. In short, the audience was enjoying it too much.

Patrons began to push into performers' spaces, mocking, mimicking, and eventually even stepping in to replace them when they rotated. One such booze-addled punter occupied the arm-slapper's space and readily picked up where she had left off--gently stroking in the dim, smacking himself hard when it got bright. A train wreck of a woman with heavily shadowed eyes gyrated under the stairs, trying to sexily respond to the light, while a real actress grinned and grimaced overhead.

I really can't tell if this girl wanted to demonstrate to the show creators that she got it, or if she missed the point entirely. Yes, you are behaving like a real prostitute, dear--you're allowing yourself to be manipulated and controlled in a sexual way. Good job! We were demonstrating that point, as well as the harmful effects of submission and abuse of power without grinding our pelvises on the wrought iron, but you're communicating it well too. (Honestly I think she just couldn't pass up an opportunity to subordinate herself to the whims of random strangers, but I'm a little hopeful.)

Some very interesting responses came out during this strangeness, though--audience members' attitudes toward taking the helm were many and various. Allow me to share some direct quotations:

"I fucking love being in control!" (plaid-shirted Australian male)

"I don't want to control it. I'll be too sadistic. I'll just make her run." patron turns light on and watches performer run in heels for about 15 seconds. Turns it off. "See? I'm too cruel." Steps away.

"I was playing for a while, but then she looked so tired I felt bad, so I stopped. But then there was someone else waiting to try. I wanted to stop him." (curvy blonde woman in a short skirt with a silk flower in her hair. Early showing.)

"Check it out--you can make her eat! Shove it in there! Omigod!" (tall man in a band name t-shirt)

"Ow, this really hurts!" (one of four hipsters who had begun smacking themselves in time with the performer.)

"Holy fuck, she just keeps going!" (curvy blonde woman in a short skirt with a silk flower in her hair. Late showing.)

Meanwhile, around the space, dozens of audience members were dancing along with our Chilean, trying to learn his sexy, energetic choreography; in the back men were challenging one another to drink along with the performer at the top of the stairs (who had water in her wine bottle); they were closing in around a performer to listen to her describe, in explicit detail, a date that had gone south when her lover asked her to fuck another man so he could watch. They were, in all honesty, thoroughly engaged. They were also completely trashed.

The most significant reactions, though, were from inactive patrons. While most used at least a brief time to jerk the performers from bright to black quickly while on the boards, while their hands were not occupied, viewers became staunchly defensive of the performers.

"Stop that! You'll hurt her!" "Let him rest--he's exhausted." "What the hell's this about? It's just making me uncomfortable. Why do they keep going?" "If you don't back off she's gonna come over here and smack you."

No. No she isn't. Because that's the point of this little exercise. Given the opportunity to abuse someone with no consequences, you'll take it. Won't you?

The piece gave some people pause to reflect. And many stood in the back or the middle to watch the piece as a whole while others manipulated the board. They sipped their drinks and moved their eyes to each performer in turn, drawing connections among them, writing a story in their heads. They would listen to the stories and watch how they related to the other performers pushing themselves harder and harder to appease the incessant demands of the public.

As soon as they got it, some people felt disgusted--both with the piece and with themselves. I call that success. Others didn't get it, or got it and figured it was still their only shot to command another person so they might as well use it. However it was internalized, it worked, it gave the actors a workout, and it kept me thinking. Not a bad day at work.

Lautes Licht: Underwater(loo)

This Saturday (the 21st) the Lautes Licht team will be working in the tunnels under Waterloo Station for the Old Vic's "Red Light Night." This is a 4 hour arts club immediately following the Tunnels' much-touted "Dark Carnival." It will be a loud and raunchy extravaganza of Red Light District themed-and inspired art, performance, music, and more.

For those familiar with my interpretation of the piece, you may not be surprised to find that I think this could not be a more ideal niche for the show. Lautes Licht is the most disturbing PG-rated piece I've ever created--an opportunity to manipulate and exploit other human beings in an eerily non-sexual way. The cast will be clad in frumpy and comfortable pyjamas and trainers while the audience will likely arrive in corsets and fishnets. This works in my head, in a funny sort of way--hopefully it will come across well for the viewers and operators too. Here are these free people willingly clad in the constrictive, restrictive, and frequently bondage-inspired garb of the sex industry, pulling the puppet strings of perfectly ordinary people in attire usually reserved for Buffy marathons.

Except the performers are actually all professionally beautiful people under the t-shirts and flannel trousers, while the audience is actually comprised of ordinary folks with sensible jobs out breaking the monotony of their daily lives for one deviant night. Audiences are out to be entertained, to escape themselves, and debauchery-themed club nights fill a vital role to that end. If these leather-clad Lady Marmalades were like this all the time everyone in the office would be driven to distraction. Everyone knows they're playing dress-up. But sometimes even your friendly and helpful receptionist needs to glam up and indulge her trashy side in a loud, dark place. It's edgy. It's dangerous. It's a well-researched, medically-endorsed cathartic experience.

Art clubs provide a space for responsible adults to look sexy, think with their genitals, and be bad in a supervised and controlled environment. They're a place to have all the dirty fun you imagined the cool kids were having when you were a teenager, except with less risk of getting caught by your mum, arrested, or pressured into sneaking off with that popular guy who expects a blow-job but thinks pleasing a girl is disgusting and degrading.

The point is, you go to the art club knowing full well that, after spending Sunday nursing an expensive hangover with burnt toast and instant coffee, you'll put your tie on and go back to your real life--the same old responsible, upwardly-mobile you.

It is an ideal place to bring a piece of theatre that requires an audience that is willing to manipulate and unapologetically jerk on willing strangers. Particularly when they get a good look at them and realize that they're being handed beautiful, talented willing strangers to command. Not beautiful like a painted prostitute in a picture window, but beautiful in that wakes-up-with-dribble-and-hair-plastered-to-her-face-and-she's-still-hotter-than-you-with-a-makeover-on-a-thin-day way. Beautiful, in short, in burlap.

They're wearing pyjamas to distinguish themselves from the audience, and to showcase the way manipulation is always disgusting, even when it's in completely mundane ways. And these people you're playing like an accordion? They volunteered for this to show you a side of yourself you may not want to see. But the jammies may serve a more sinister purpose, as a reminder to the false-eyelashed audience that for some, even real life is sexy.

Considerations

"Perfect"
Presented by Theatre With Milk, Please
Dilston Grove Gallery, Southwark Park, London
July 14-16, 2010

A 30-minute exploration of post-feminist theory through the medium of interpretive badminton. While preparing for the game two women contrast themselves and each other against society's unrealistic and often contradictory ideals of feminine perfection.

"Perfect" is a light touch theatrical interpretation of Naomi Wolf's 1989 authoritative text "The Beauty Myth." It gently prods the Big Issues that have surrounded women and girls since antiquity: weight, attractiveness, strength and submission, ownership of sexuality, and the power of religion and men to pit us against one another in our desperate plea to be the best woman, and thereby win.

While it may raise a few eyebrows it does not raise any new questions or attempt to answer extant ones which now plague women more than ever. It simply and artfully demonstrates that the concerns are still current and felt throughout womankind.

The themes expressed are not lost on the audience, and the piece is executed with artistry and precision. But the ending leaves me wondering why. While I do not expect or particularly want theatre to teach, I do want it to offer me something in return for having watched it. I have no patience for that which seeks merely to "Raise awareness." I am aware. I am a woman, and the men in the audience know women too. To suggest that the content of the piece accomplishes or reveals anything new would be to ignore all feminist art and performance of the past century. It left me expecting resolution, suggestion, hope..or even despair. I would have settled for hopelessness if it was your sentiment. But it ended with mere status quo. A return to the outside world.

I'm hesitant to encourage theatre makers to have a clear and distinct idea they want to communicate to audiences when they create a piece. Audiences these days are rarely impressed with the ideas you have to offer, and would rather have the ability to digest that which they see seasoned with their own experiences and inclinations. This is intriguing in a way, but also a useless pain in the ass. The conversation with the audience has begun to follow thus: "This is my idea." say you. "That's a nice idea." says the audience. "do you agree with my idea?" ask you. "Not at all, but it reminded me of something, which I suppose has merit." says the audience. "Oh." say you. "I suppose I'll respect your assessment, or lack thereof. At least I expressed myself." "And at least I got something out of it, even if my interpretation had nothing to do with your intention." smiles the audience, sipping the wine that you really couldn't afford to offer to everyone but did anyway because you felt obligated to (and secretly hoped it would soften any reviewers' comments regarding your piece.)

All that said, you do need to have a point. Otherwise it is just art--meaningless, useless art. Like a still life or :cringe: Cubism. An exercise in intellectual masturbation. A stylized reflection of normal life--just as confusing and devoid of direction, but with better choreography.

Sometimes I really hate theatre. Sometimes I'm in awe of it. I never really feel qualified to do it. Even if I have an idea, a point, a valuable lesson to teach or at the very least cathartic experience to offer--surely everyone else has already done it, and better. I'm a trite old has-been from the moment I set out. And to a great extent I'm not willing to put my personal reputation on the line to learn if my work is worth seeing, or may be someday. I'm a big chicken who doesn't want to establish the point from which I'll progress.

It is with this area of my personality, then, that I can applaud work created by my classmates. Even if it's not great, even if it drags the envelope back a few stages, at least they have the balls to put it out there and get it watched, field critique, and develop from there. So while no, I did not enjoy Perfect, and found that it represented the symptoms of a social concern but did not address the causes, I applaud the fact that they made it and put it out there, a standalone show, a real piece, a real event. It takes guts.

Reflections on recent work

I've been busying myself with lighting lately for several companies who would have otherwise been up a creek. I wish to stress that I have not been these companies' standing designer and had not engaged with their methodologies or artistic foci at any earlier point in the process, so while I did give each show my full attention I was not a full member of their groups. I chose, arranged, hung, focused, and programmed their lights, but ensured that the scenographers within the groups created the looks, timing, and dramatic impact that they believed would best support their pieces. It was a rather awkward position to be in, as the tech/artist/peer trusted to save the day without taking over. Lighting is something I know how to do, but I am neither an expert in nor an enthusiastic student of it.

Which may strike you as funny, seeing as my personal piece is entitled Loud Light.

My focus this year has been on scenography's interactive potential. I don't merely want to immerse the audience in the landscape of the piece, I want to give them the ability to change it, and see what they do with that power. With most scenic elements--set, dressing, props, etc--that has the potential to be very interesting, but very, very expensive. If people think they are invited to break shit, they probably will. (Anyone remember Yoko Ono's Cut Piece?) So a cheap and difficult-to-break alternative is, of course, lighting. You put the instruments in the air, keep the audience away from ladders, and let them screw around with things in a safe and repeatable manner.

And repeatability is no trivial matter. If after the fourth participant has had a swing at it the changeable scenic element is busted beyond repair, or reshaped to something else entirely, it becomes a different artwork. It becomes a study of the object itself, and how it is malleable. To study the audience, you must allow each person to have the same shot at the piece as everyone else. Otherwise each progressive turn is a new and more challenging handicap. So, while perhaps giving the audience Lego bricks, a camera, and a projection screen to make their own set--with the clear instruction that they dismantle everything when they're done--could be a valid option, giving them a pile of lumber, a skil saw, and a nail gun is not. If the actions of one audience member affect the ability of the next person to participate, the freedom to create is compromised. It's not good or bad, it's just a different piece.

I'm going to take an opportunity, if one comes up, to use Lego and a camera to see what kind of scenery the audience creates. I have no idea if it will work like Licht but it might be fun. People do like hands-on performance. They like to feel not only involved, but necessary. And Licht's function hinges on that. While I don't assume this is the future of theatre in the making, I do hope it is engaging. (And I don't think scenic input from the audience will feel too much like the disturbing manipulation I've seen with Licht. It should be fun and light. I hope.)

Perfect

I am currently working as ME/Board Op for my classmates' piece "Perfect." It is running through Friday at the Dilston Grove gallery in Southwark Park (a stripped but listed church. the tech tables are in the organ loft, and the tall church windows have automatic blackout shades. It's kind-of awesome). Created by the all-female company Theatre With Milk, Please, the piece explores the varying (and often contradictory) physical ideals to which women aspire, and the conflict this generates among us.

Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of designing and implementing lighting for 3 shows back to back for other classmates--"Hope" by Petar Miloshevski, "Footmark" by Visitors, and a piece in development by Ophelia Chan. Next week I will be developing lighting for a segment of "Pain without Words" by Riki Kim. Shortly thereafter I may be shedding additional light on a production of "Who's Cloud is it Anyway?" By De.Bunked at the People Show Theatre.

One of these days I'll find a space for my own piece, but until then I'm certainly keeping busy.

Lautes Licht: The Workshop

This past Thursday I held a short Licht event for my classmates and tutors. I was interested to see if members of the public would be interested or willing to participate in a Licht installation if they were expected to not only control the lights, but perform. I offered a brief demonstration of how it works with my trustiest actress, laid out a few dozen slips of paper with simple actions, stories, speeches, and monologues written on them, and opened it up to participation.

After a few awkward minutes in which people ummed and erred, a few daring volunteers got up and tried it. They picked the easiest slips, naturally, and got themselves started figuring out how the lighting intensity changed with each percentage increase. They fumbled, they got confused, they laughed. My veteran actress encouraged participation by grabbing up instructions, seemingly at random, and darting to a light to try them.

Gradually people started trying the tougher ones as they realized that the piece worked whether they succeeded or failed at following their lights. More got up at a time, and eventually all 3 spots were filled and all lights were operated. A vastly pregnant teacher got up and tap danced like a bowling ball while a slender actress knelt and cried. A pianist played an ambient, meandering tune according to his light while a director sang the Australian national anthem. The operators tried to keep them in time, but it took on a dissonant, eerie quality. An actress read President Obama's public address regarding the oil spill while a professor glared at the audience. Most of the inadvertent scenes that Licht generates worked beautifully.

Commentary afterwards was helpful and generally positive. The participants noted that getting up and moving was easier and more fun than getting up and speaking. Acting is tough under Licht conditions, so even though I left out a selection of speeches, monologues, and letters to be read, if the spirit moved anyone, the only documents selected were the day's sports results and the Presidential Address. Ophelia's "Rosemary is for Remembrance" speech was considered and declined by several, who realized that any document with emotions, pauses, or pacing written in would be far too awkward and difficult. Some better suggestions for text-based actions were to describe an object or ism in detail, recite a favourite poem or song, demonstrate a safety lecture, or tell a fairy tale.

The participants agreed that it was nice to give up power and internalization for a while to let the viewer choose what is appropriate. IT was fun and even freeing for some. Others who operated boards but did not perform explained why--it would be nice to have an option to participate that did not involve performing, but instead perhaps painting or creating something which would evidence the lighting changes in its creation or form.

The question arose, when it came to singing songs, reciting poems, or telling stories--the power balance seemed to shift from the audience operator to, not the performer, but the content. The operator had a hard time changing the lighting away from the piece's natural or expected phrasing--all she felt she could do was to enhance the swells and decrescendos as they came, almost like catching them in a tonal stream.

Likewise, performers felt unable to walk out of their light until they had a long enough blackout. No-one was comfortable stopping and walking out while they were still being played with, even if they were mentally done with what they'd chosen to do. Oddly, though, few people felt like they were being manipulated, or like they were powerless. Indeed, one performer expressed that she felt powerful and real in the space. Another mentioned it was an exciting and joyful experience--one because she was in the spotlight and knew she could be heard and seen, which is always a thrill, but also because of the fact that there was clearly someone operating her light, there was someone watching and strongly engaged with what she was doing. That was exciting.

I suppose it must be for performers. Even though I created this piece with that in mind I nevertheless find the idea of doing it daunting for that reason alone. But performers are used to being directed, and having their active choices made for them. It is no great leap for them between embodying the idea of the director in the next take and embodying the idea of the audience member right away. Particularly if the direction has truly already been made, it is just up to the audience what part or aspect of the performance they see.

In creating a workshop I suppose I generated a toy for performers--people who would already be interested in doing the work. I did not succeed in getting non-performance types to participate (Except for my friends who got up and felt silly for my sake.) I did offer them a chance to reflect on their energy levels, perform on their toes, and have a unique challenge to respond to real artistic contributions from the audience. But I don't think I've changed anyone's life.

----

I've decided to copy my slips of paper down here so I don't lose them. Yes, it's all of them, not a sampling, but even during the session I was thinking of more, and asking the audience for them. Several of them worked together to make interesting and poignant pieces.


Think about something you really hate. Tell us how much you dislike it. The brighter your light, the worse it is.

Tell a story from your life. At low light, feel free to mumble. AS the light gets brighter, allow your enthusiasm for the story to creep in.

Think about the first time your significant other said "I love you." Tell us about it. The brighter your light, the more exciting it is.

Count in the language of your choice. At low light, count slowly and quietly. At bright light, count quickly and loudly. At medium light, count comfortably. Stop at your leisure.

If you can tap dance, tap out a simple rhythm louder or quieter according to your light intensity. If you cannot tap dance, try anyway.

You are intimidating. The brighter your light, the harder you stare at your light operator.

You are sad. The brighter your light, the harder you cry.

Read the newspaper provided. At low light (you won't be able to see much anyway) feel free to squint at it and read slowly. At bright light, tear out articles. Be sure to resume reading when it gets darker.

Jog in place. If your light is off, stand still. As the light gets brighter, run faster.

Clap your hands according to the light intensity. At low light, clap slowly and softly. In the middle, clap comfortably. At high light, make a lot of noise!

Whistle or hum your national anthem. At low light, whistle or hum quietly. As the light gets brighter, whistle louder, and if you know the words, sing with pride when the light is bright. Feel free to sing in your own language. IF you do not know the words, "dah dah dah" works too!

Think about something you find funny. The brighter your light, the harder you laugh.

Shake your booty according to the light intensity. Try to follow the light, not any other sound that is being made in the room.

If you know a song on the piano, treat the light like a conductor and adjust your tempo, volume, and intensity accordingly. If you do not know how to play the piano, press one key faster or slower according to the light intensity.

You are the wind. The brighter your light, the stronger you blow.

More Thinking, Lautes Licht

I'm beginning to see Licht as an analytic tool--something I did not expect. Particularly when contrasting elements are inputted into the machine: it poses the question, "who will win?" What will the audience choose to watch, Jefferson Davis, or Abraham Lincoln? Happy story, or sad story?

I believe it is possible to use the same rotation scheme and interface to create themes (or work within established themes or stories.)

The piece works most easily and clearly with musicians and dancers. This may be largely on account of training and habits of watching a conductor for cues and tempo. Less ethically dubious, too, when all understand clearly how they are contributing to the whole.

May work with verbatim theatre, with actors wearing visible earphones and listening to a recording of someone describing an important moment in his or her life. The actor may hone in on the rhythms of the recorded speaker's voice, and add or remove emphasis from the text according to their lighting.

It may also work with people reading documents detailing opposite sides of a lawsuit, or simply with two good bits of recent writing with contrasting themes or aims.

The piece needs to accentuate the fact that it is about the audience too.
--Light audience too, light operator to ensure they are sure they know they're inside the piece.
--slowly fade up on the operator after they've been tinkering for a while, or when they're being jerks (punishment?)

The Operator must take responsibility for his or her actions, for while the safety of anonymity encourages people to participate, it is arguable that the safety of anonymity also encourages cruelty. It has also been suggested by audience members that "abuse" of the performers by switch-happy audience members was encouraged by the specific direction to interact with the light board, and that they felt rather like they were part of a psychological study. Some even wondered if they were expected to cause harm to the performers, or if the game was for an observer to see how far they would push the performers before backing off. (Milgram experiment, The Perils of Obedience). As it was, all abusive operators, save one, felt satisfied with their abuse when one performer flubbed a line, soured a note, or missed a step--the performers were never pushed far enough by abuse to quit the game, though they knew they were empowered and expected to, and the audience never felt cruel or free enough to continue after confusion set in. I believe though, that if operators are visible they are more likely to engage with the piece self-consciously and gently, particularly if they believe that the performers can see them, as then they may be aware that there may be repercussions--from the rest of the audience, the performers themselves, and from any area security personnel.

Licht Thoughts

Ethical Implications
If you give the audience the power to affect the piece, are you compromising your own artistic integrity?

Are you making your actors vulnerable to harassment and manipulation?
:All performers should be mentally and emotionally prepared to be jolted around a bit by audiences, particularly people who have never had an opportunity to touch a light board before and people who are trying to learn how to operate the piece. That is not to say the actor is not empowered. The actor is never put into a position where he is made to do anything he would rather not. He sets his limits himself, and no amount of jerking or jolting will cause him to modify his behaviour beyond that which he has established for himself to do. Claudio will only run as fast as he feels comfortable and can sustain for the duration of his rotation. While he is expected to consistently perform according to his lighting, he sets his own energy limits according to his ability at the time.


Performance Implications
If the performers must change their intensity or emotion according to the light provided, can there be honesty or truthful energy?
: if the performer considers his light to be another performer, then his energy can reflect its changes in an honest way. Likewise, if he likens it to a musical swell or scenic change, he may feel compelled to change to match it simply by the true energy relationship he has with it.

Human Element:
The relationship between actor and light is not always precise:
They determine their performance energy according to how much light they believe they have.
Their estimate of light intensity is affected by other light intensities—both of the phases provided to them earlier and of the intensity being offered to other performers.
The intensity of their performance is affected by their own personal energy level, their engagement with the action performed, the amount they trust the audience, and their attention to concurrent performances.

While precision could be maintained with a computerized system—volume or robotic movement controlled directly by the light board—not only has this already been done, but it is not performance. It is kinetic sculpture. Licht is an interface—a challenge to both performer and board operator to both be actively engaged in the energy exchange.

Performers found that they began to get a feel for operators, and found ways of adapting to particular lighting rhythms and patterns. Operators who tended to mix the performances in high-speed, rhythmic ways were frequently pleased to discover that actors would repeat a short noise or movement until they were confident they had time to continue in a meaningful way. For instance, Jenny would repeat a quick 7-step Flamenco pattern in 1-second bursts, while Cristian would sing "whoa!"--and alternation between the two could be very musically pleasing. Geraldine would isolate chunks of her stories for staccato delivery: "it was!" "the best!" "thing I'd!" "ever!" "seen!" to allow for musical play with the sound of her voice.

Social Implications:

Audience members who “get” the performance inform the newly-arrived, affording them a sense of inclusion and identification both with the piece and with the other viewers.

Some audience members choose not to participate, but watch the performance. Others pay more attention to the board operator. Some watch the performance, the operator, and other audience members. Some wander past without stopping.

The performance was constructed with the space as a primary consideration. Our vault at Shunt was near the main entrance and opened straight onto the main hall. Thus it was important to not have a huge clot of people blocking up the corridor for two hours a night. Rather than building a performance that would keep audience members attentive for an hour, then, I rotated the performers and their actions every 10 minutes, and did not ensure that performances suggested a through-line or theme. The show changed completely every 10 minutes. This kept the actors fresh and kept the audience moving--some would think the show was over when they rotated (though clued-in audience members would frequently inform those who were beginning to applaud or leave that this was not so, keeping them there) and others would simply no longer be able to engage with the piece once the content they had created changed. By changing the content I was able to keep the hallway passable without causing people to feel rushed, shoved, or unwelcome. I found this movement felt organic, and, as this was not a content-driven but form-driven piece, there was no need to keep people around after they'd gotten their fill.

Quick Audience Chats:

Individuals and groups who have enjoyed controlling the board have included:
Musicians
Dancers
Technicians
Writers
Photographers
Djs/Track Samplers

A string quartet spent a full ten minutes with the piece, conducting all components like an orchestra and dancing around.

A rapper and his girlfriend spent over five minutes carefully mixing Spanish and Italian voices into pleasing rhythms.

A group of photographers spent twenty minutes poised to the side of the board, snapping away as other audience members created light looks.

A dancer spent five minutes on the board, aligning a dancer and a singer into harmony.

“Clap, Clown! This is the best thing I've ever seen!” (drunken city boy with a bourbon and coke)

An off-duty Shunt lighting technician spent several quiet minutes arranging voices and stories to create relationships between the performers. “See, I tried these two together (slides up an aggressive-looking seated man and a hopeful-looking woman leaning against an alcove) but I couldn't see why she would want him, he looks like such a jerk. But these two together (brings up a guitarist happily tapping on his instrument and whistling, and hopeful woman) seem to be each other's...brains, you know? And these two (brings up aggressive man and a woman dancing around and blowing a whistle) have something in common, but I'm not sure what it is. Maybe he's watching her, and puffing his chest up to try and get her attention?”

Options for Development:

Right now, Licht is a demonstration and an opening discussion for a performance platform. I'm actively seeking writers to develop themes and characters who may all relate to one another, an event, or a concept who would be interested to adapt their story or outline to a Licht interface. I believe it is possible to rotate performers to create distinct, engaging, and themed scenes.

I have also considered offering the interface to composers and musical troupes, both for exploration and for performance. It works well with music, and is less ethically dubious—musicians are used to following a conductor, and know that their adherence to the dynamics and timing of the conductor benefit the piece as a whole. The same is true for dancers and singers.