Sunday, June 27, 2010

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.

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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.

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