Reykjavik Love Stories.

Back to the IAA this afternoon for a session on verbatim theatre and story telling. We started with some warm up games to get the group comfortable at telling each other stories and listening to them before setting up an exercise in pairs.

I asked the group to decide on a theme that they'd like to share stories about. After a brief five minute discussion the group decided to focus their work on love. In half of the pairs I asked the listener to watch carefully and replicate the story with as much physical and vocal accuracy as possible. In the other half the listening partner was given a recording device on which to capture the story. I explained that the stories could be personal, philosophic, fictional or familiar, but whatever angle chosen the stories would be told publicly later in the session.

The pairs found somewhere private to tell each other the tales. For ease I suggested we should work in Icelandic which meant I was left to follow the authenticity of the rhythm and behaviour of the actors, rather than understanding the content of the story.

Vigdis M went first and was magnificent in performing Alda. We paused briefly afterwards to ask Alda how it was to hear her words retold and whether this act of recreation was honouring or exposing.

Vigdis J went next, but found it an impossible job to be Luca. She false started two or three times and although she finally gave us the performance she made it clear how uncomfortable she found the act of 'parodying' somebody else. We talked about the ethical implication of taking on somebody else's story and Vigdis highlighted the dilemma of having Luca in the room. She agreed that had he not been there it would have been much easier to 'approximate' his story. She just felt all she could do, in the circumstances, was to diminish Luca's words. It's interesting that we feel this. Should we not be able to honour somebody's story in performance whether that person is in the audience or not? Once a story is told who does it belong to?

We turned our attention to the recorded stories. Maria put on a pair of head phones and, repeating the recorded story out loud retold the story of Vigdis G's parent's first meeting on a cruise ship, including the romantic tale of her late father asking her mother to dance.  Thora then channelled Svala's, occasionally sceptical philosophy of falling in love using the same technique. The group noticed how the very act of re speaking the words resulted in both actors reshaping their bodies to become physically more like the original tellers. Each body has a different relationship to language.

The two monologues seemed to at times to challenge each other, at times underscore and at times highlight and at times reveal. We ran them alongside each other, as an overlapping conversation. The result was fascinating and occasionally very moving, Once we'd taken off the head phones neither actor had any idea of what they'd done.

To end the afternoon we talked briefly about how we might use these Reykjavik love stories. Maria came up with the idea of collecting more and then arranging for a 'love bus' to pick up tourists from the hotels and drive them to sites  all over the city, in each instance choosing the most appropriate for the telling of the story. Passengers could also be encouraged to give the driver instructions and take the bus to a place where their story might be told. These in turn could be recorded for actors to tell later. Over time a whole archive of love stories could be developed.

Each tour would be unique with actors being picked up and dropped off en route. It sounds a plan. I hope she'll follow up.

The Harpa and John Lennon's Peace Beam.

A day off from teaching and a chance to reconnect with Reykjavik. In many ways the city has changed little over the last decade. The shops on the main street seem as quirky as ever, it's still tough to get a seat in a coffee shop. Some development has taken place downtown however. The lonely statue of two sailors looking out across the sea has been rather swamped by an extended car park built to support the Harpa, a new concert hall built overlooking the bay.

Behind it a new kind of tourism has replaced the bobbing fishing boats. There are cafes, burger bars and whale watching tours. A new hotel filled with tiny, but warm boxed rooms over looks this revamped commercial centre.

The crash affected Iceland very badly. Possibly as much psychologically as financially. In my visits here ten years ago I'd always been aware of a basic level of prosperity, particularly in the city. A snug insular world of warm home comforts designed to provide protection from the huge wilderness of the rest of the island. Now there seems to be a slightly a more outward looking approach. Iceland is less a place for tourists to discover much more a centre catering for their needs and the Harpa itself which sits so prominently on the shore makes a bold statement that Iceland is open for business and keen to attract investors. Beyond the glass fronted exterior are spacious foyers, welcoming cafes, several beautifully proportioned concert halls and an expansive sense of possibility.

Perhaps there are some lessons here. The centre was planned before the slump and the decision to push ahead with it's building even during a time of rising unemployment and a devaluing of the currency - at one point the Krona lost 80% of its value - was controversial to say the least. But as Icelanders were faced with the need to reassess their own values and concerns (a process we in the UK may still have to face) it appears to have been a master stroke. Rich countries always believe that an ability to consume is a mark of prosperity - but Icelanders were forced to re prioritise and increasingly turned to culture and art, to look both for solutions and solace. It might break up the flat horizon of the seeming unlimited shoreline but the Harpa does stand as an optimistic symbol, attracting international musicians and audiences to Reykjavik.

At nightfall the Imagine Peace Beam shoots up vertically from the tiny island of Videy in the bay.  Designed by Yoko Ono, it's lit every year on John Lennon's birthday 9th October and shines heavenward until December 8th, the day of his assassination. Lennon never visited Iceland, but Yoko chose to base the installation here because of the countries position on the tectonic fault line between Europe and America. It makes a powerful statement in the unpolluted night sky.
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A Nordic Saga.

The second day of workshops and a chance to explore the role of actor/ teacher in Drama based work. Often in Applied Theatre work the relationship between the stage and auditorium is blurred. Boal uses the term Spect-ACTING for the dual role of participants in an interactive event. With the Joker being the conduit between the world of the play and the real world. In a Drama in Education session the teacher themselves will very often act as the guide.

Increasingly I've been interested in looking at what performative skills are needed to be an effective actor in work like this and, more importantly, how can we train you actor/facilitators to be good at it.

Many practitioners will argue that charisma is at the root and as such cannot be taught. You either have the personality for it or not. In this sense does being a good teacher or a good actor or a good facilitator rely on talent?

We began the session by using an old teacher in role narrative borrowed from some of Jon Neelands and Dorothy Heathcote's early work. I played Beowulf - a role I've taken on in many workshops at St Mary's, but never in such a Nordic setting.

The work begins with me welcoming my warrior brothers and sisters from the four corners of the kingdom. I explain that I have called them to the great hall because I have received word from my cousin the King of Denmark that the evil monster Grendel has been attacking Danish villages, raising the buildings to the ground, killing the citizens and taking the children into slavery.

Although there are normally initial giggles the group are quickly into the story, at my prompting reminding each other of former exploits and debating how best to defeat Grendel. I ask them if they are resolved to fight and, on this occasion, receive unanimous backing.

The students are split into four tribes representing the North, South, East and West and each is invited to devise a task or game that will teach us something about the culture of the region they come from and help us train in preparation for the challenge ahead.

Maria led the warriors of the north with a very energetic game which needed quick reactions. She explained that the special quality of the the light in the North meant that people from that region are renowned for the clarity of their vision, often over large distances. They are a voyaging people, who have built up their wealth by looking beyond the immediate horizon to trade with other lands.

Luka introduced the warriors form the south with a counting exercise. The rest of us noticed that it was tough to play the game if  you thought too much about what you were doing and Luka confirmed that the people of the South lived life in a very fluid and relaxed way, not worrying too much. Many great musicians had come from this part of the Kingdom.

Vigdis greeted us as the Queen of the West with a boisterous game of chase, where warriors had to work together to keep a monster from catching his prey. She explained the rugged, direct nature of the West, a land of mountains, where people worked hard and played hard. It was common for  the people from this region to share the little they have with each other. Everybody in the West works on the land and understands how important it is to cultivate and respect it. They are a fiercely loyal people.

Rakel introduced the Eastern warriors with a medative exercise designed to improve our attentiveness and watchfulness. Hers are a spiritual people who often live in solitude. Stone is a vital part of this culture. They build their houses from it, create jewellery, ornamentation and furniture from it and worship at the quarry.

We're only about half an hour in, but already the group are generating a huge amount of material to take forward.

We run several more improvisational tasks. I ask each warrior to return home and explain to their loved ones the nature of the task ahead. The short scenes that this generates are very moving. Maria has to ask permission from Thora, who is the Queen of the North, and then explain to her teenage daughter Thorinna that she will be away from her for many years and may not return at all.

Luka finds it impossible to say goodbye, tries to write a song about how he feels, fails and ends up getting drunk with his friends. Vigdis throws a big party and tells the rest of the warriors in the West that they should live the evening as though it were their last whilst Rakel takes her sister Alda to the furthest quarry in the East and performs a self mutilation ritual where she sacrifices her right eye for an all seeing stone that will, she believes, act as a powerful charm to protect her from danger. Alda in a sacrificial ritual of her own cuts off her left hand and replaces it with a glove full of sacred stones. This she assures us will give her the strength to defeat Grendel.

Although we break for coffee, the group are reluctant to come out of role and so the work continues.

in the main studio the warriors from the North and East begin using all available furniture to build a beautiful boat. Thora finds a piece of drain pipe and fixes it to the bow. This she explains will be used to call up the sea goddesses who can help to calm storms.

 In the kitchen the warriors of the West and South prepare the drinks whilst working together on a song for us to sing on our voyage.

With the washing up in the sink, we're on our way again. The song works beautifully as a round with each warrior given a separate phrase to sing, one that most befits the job they've been allocated to on the ship we soon reach Denmark.

The final part of the workshop sees the group split in two. The warriors of the North and West form a tableau of the great battle verses Grendel. The actors who have played warriors from the East and South time traveller forward to the twenty first century. They are now archaeologists who have uncovered the great hall of Beowulf. Much in the hall has been destroyed by time, but carefully preserved high on one wall are is the outline of this magnificent painting. They quickly decide to call a press conference and interpret their findings to the world.

We're been working now for three hours and it seems an opportune place to bring the story to an end. We talk a little about the joy of the work, the constant active creativity. Svala is interested in the focus I provide stepping in and out of the main role. I point out that all of them have done exactly the same. At once fully committed to the action and fully aware of the audience.

This is the essence of the Applied Theatre actor. There is a script and a performance to deliver which this should be done with as much conviction and belief as possible. This is the same as for the actor playing Hamlet at the National. But alongside this, in the course of the Applied Theatre play's action, a thousand other small improvisational interactions might occur with the audience, shaping and deciding on the action and ultimately the narrative. This is the same for the teacher in the classroom encouraging questions and observations on the topics presented.

Applied Theatre actors merge these two roles effortlessly, knowing when to push the action on and when to allow the sect-ACTORS the opportunity to make a change.
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Images of Theatre and Education.

Some things in Iceland stay. The slight smell of sulphur and the scolding geothermic temperatures of the shower. Water straight from the furnaces of middle earth.

Our first session was early this afternoon at the Academy. We're working with 12 artists, actors, musicians and educators throughout the week. We began with some image work just to get used to working together.

Sculpting is a brilliant way to get a group going, partly because it allows everybody to realise they have a unique perspective on the world. In pairs one person imagines themselves to be a great artist, the other a lump of clay. (We swap these roles - after all sometimes artists lose their powers and it's always possible fro clay to aspire to something more creative.)

Without talking the great artist gently manipulates the clay into a three dimensional image. The pairs all work at the same time and so in a few minutes a collection of sculptures fill the room.

The artists are then encouraged to tour this quickly assembled exhibition commenting on similarities and differences.

I always begin by asking the artists to create a sculpture called 'Mother.' In mixed groups this quickly provokes conversations about gender and culture. Within half an hour we're working and on our way.

The pairs swap roles and creating a complimentary (or occasionally conflicting) image called 'Father' these two images are then 'staged' in relief to each other. The discussion begins to develop an aesthetic dimension. A story is beginning.

From here I decided to repeat the exercise using creating images for 'Education' and 'Theatre.' Again the pairs created a composite image by deciding how to stage the two images in the same space. The results were fascinating.

Luka and Rakel are first to go. In their image Education is slumped asleep against a wall. Theatre stands in front, feet firmly rooted on the ground, but she bends over and reaches between her legs reaching backwards to take Education's hand.

The conversation focuses on who is pulling who. Is theatre trying to raise education from its slumber by pulling it through her legs. Or is it education that, tired of holding hands with theatre has slumped onto the floor, pulling her with him. The complication of two such disparate images still holding hands gave another cause for reflection.

Next up Olof and Savala. Olof's  'theatre' was a figure on all fours, looking up and begging at the feet of Savala's 'education.'  Education seemed to be offering Theatre a coin. Both characters had their heads cocked to one side and were smiling. Most of the group saw an element of the fool in the theatre image, a sense of self-deprecation of playing rather than being low status. Education on the other hand was seen as self confident and patronising, relating to theatre as a curiosity rather than a friend. We felt that once the image dissolved the two elements would not stay in touch.

The third image from Vigdis M. and Tora saw the images stand next to each other, facing outwards towards the audience. Tora's 'theatre' stood as neutrally as possible, waiting for us to project onto her. Vigdis' 'education' sat cross legged, looking up from an open book with an expression of shocked amazement - perhaps at what she'd discovered. We couldn't help but feel, because of their relationship to us that both were performing for us.

The fourth image was created by Maria and Edna. Maria's 'theatre' used a shawl to cover half her face. The material draped down the length of her body, making a costumed disguise. The other half of her took up a triumphant and coquettish pose, weight on hip, hand extended and flirtatious smile. The duality was clear to us all.  Edna's 'education' stood behind, again reading a book, but this time self absorbed, somewhere between indifferent to and bored by Theatre's charms. Some in the group saw a master/ servant relationship between the two with Theatre leading and Education following behind. When looked at like this the image reminded me of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

The fifth image saw Alda's 'education' in clear opposition to Torinna's 'theatre.' They stood facing each other, upper bodies leaning in slightly, as if in combat. They chose a place in the room, where the harsh rays of the now fast approaching Reykjavik sunset crossed their stage, which added an epic feeling to the work. Education stood taut and tense, fist raised high above her head, perhaps looking to land a blow, perhaps merely as a triumphant gesture. Theatre, by contrast, seemed defensive, one hand on her heart, one on her head as if to indicate the two most essential parts of her being.

Vigdis noticed how hard it was for 'education' to stay still in the image. The tension Alda was forcing her body into made her shake slightly and it was a real struggle to keep such an assertive form. Theatre, although on first appearance the more passive of the two, seemed in many ways more at ease with herself.

The final image saw Vigdis G's 'education' strangle Margaret's 'theatre' in another clear battle. Theatre looked out helplessly as education seemed to go in for the kill.

I was fascinated by how, overall, the group saw education, as a stifler of the arts rather than an ally or conspirator. It was also interested to notice how much strength the group invested in their images of education. Time and time again theatre was seen as the victim.

These initial impressions, clear, creative and tangible give us an excellent base form which to further explore the connections and oppositions between the actor and the teacher.
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Solo to Oslo.

I'm off to Iceland for a week to do some teaching at the Iceland Arts Academy in Reykjavik at the invitation of my old friend Vigdis Jakobsdottir. We're primarily going to be looking at the artist as educator and I'm hoping the five days of workshops will give us plenty of scope to explore the relationship between the two roles.

For some strange reason it was much cheaper to get to Iceland via Norway than take a direct flight which meant a painfully early start. The flight was simple enough and I was in Oslo in time for a spectacularly expensive lunch - £9 for a beer - in the transfer lounge.

It all felt a little surreal particularly when the former Man Utd and England full back Gary Neville came running by. A stocky figure, carrying a suit, shouting back in broad Mancunian to his companion to get a move on in order to get the plane back to Heathrow. What he was doing in Norway is anyone's guess. Scouting? Visiting former team mate Ole Gunar Solskjaer? Nobody seemed to notice him at all.

Soon enough I was airborne again and heading north west across the frozen ocean towards Reykjavik, coming through the clouds just as the southern shoreline came into view.

It's almost ten years since I was last here and Iceland has since then gone through the most spectacular of financial crashes. Vigdis and her husband Jakob were working in Brussels when bottom fell out, but they returned soon afterwards. I'm fascinated to see how the crash has effected life here.

I took the bus through the familiar lava field landscape into town where Vigdis and her daughter Julia met me at the station.  It's great to see them again.

We ended the day in the old theatre next to the Tjornin in the centre of the old town where Jakob's band were crooning their way through nostalgic Icelandic hits of the sixties and seventies. They were one of seven or eight amateur bands of all ages, enjoying the warm appreciation of a crowd of 200 or so. And despite the much deserved ribbing of Jakob's spotless white jacket and shiny blue winkle pickers, it was all wonderfully open hearted.

We finally gave in at midnight, but the party continued until dawn.
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Four Weeks in.

We're four weeks into the semester and time seems to have rushed by. The first years seem, for the most part, to have settled in and there's some really promising work coming out from Levels 2 and 3.

I'm still finding my feet a little as Academic Director with each week bringing further challenges. I'm still in the honeymoon period, but it's feeling a bit like a race against time. One day, very soon I know I'll be expected to have more answers than questions.

The toughest part of the new job is getting used to not being so directly involved in the students' work. I hear of good things in dispatches now, rather than being in the meetings or rehearsal rooms myself. I'm really pleased that the second year Applied Theatre group have started a blog for their project, which, even if I can't be directly involved with I'll have some chance of staying in touch with.

Most of my new role is about looking forward and outwards, trying to plot a course for the Drama Programmes over the next few years, whilst raising our profile beyond the institution. It's less operational and more strategic. After five years of Programme Directing though it's taking a bit of effort to learn to let go of some of the nitty gritty, day to day problem solving. Ultimately it's a question of trust, though, and Kasia, Patsy, Matt, Michelle and of course Trevor make up a vastly experienced team. It's still delightful to catch someone in a corridor and hear them speak excitedly of how their work is going.

So to the future. The best way forward is, I think, to push for very high standards of practice and delivery from our current students, whilst doing everything we can to keep a buzz about the shows. Exciting, creative work attracts attention, builds reputations and enables us develop ever more interesting projects. I've always thought that successful cultures are built on the high demand of everybody operating within that culture.

In the short term I want to make sure that each student is aware of the expectations that the course has for them and feels secure within those expectations. If we can get that right then we'll be in a better place to create some wonderful theatre.
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Bread or Freedom,

A fascinating talk at college this evening from Jeremy Ramsden, a professor of Nanotechnology at Cranfield University on the threat posed by the corporatism of Universities.

Jeremy suggests that the managerial structures, which every institution in the UK works within, are inimical to free and meaningful research and the need for Universities to maximise their income, leads to research projects increasingly being written in response to the stipulated criteria of the research councils.

This isn't just unfortunate, but on occasion highly dangerous, as the need to maximise income leads to the very real need to please the client. Unpopular, or unorthodox findings, might jeopardise an ongoing and lucrative arrangements.

The talk reminded me of Richard Bean's wonderful play on climate change and academic freedom - 'The Heretic' which played at the Royal Court last spring, where an academic whose research had convinced her that climate change had only a negligible impact on the natural world was censured by her management team who were tying up a big investment from an ethical, carbon neutral company. Bean's twist was clever as most in the audience were both conscientious liberals with a tendency to worry about the ozone layer and believers in the kind of academic freedom of expression represented by the main protagonist.

I recognise the problem, but find it hard to see a solution beyond dividing the HE sector into research and training. The growth in post-18 education has been broadly successful. More young people staying in education for longer does help reduce crime, create jobs, lengthen lives and so from a utilitarian societal perspective it's a good thing. This focus on training, however, has led to the very corporatism that Jeremy was talking about. As an academic I'm corporatised to deliver qualifications to students, who, in the process are corporatised to find employment in the market place. Apart from sounding like a mundane teadmill this all needs funding and a supportive administrative structure, which as Jeremy suggests, fixes working patterns and dictates the shape of everything from departments to ideas.

It's clear that very few undergraduates can pro-actively contribute to their tutor's research - unless of course that research is in them. Many academics, feel, even if they don't say, that the volume of students that they have to see each week, rather than aiding their research, simply gets in the way. Also the very reliance on an administrative culture means that many members of a Universities hierarchy can only demonstrate their ability to fulfil their management role by constantly requesting data from those members of staff in contact with students. A time consuming and ultimately pointless process. Transparency and accountability sound prudent, but a slavish insistance on their authority they can stop radical or free thinking teaching and research in its tracks.
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