Author Archives: Lisa Wolfe

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About Lisa Wolfe

Lisa Wolfe is a freelance theatre producer and project manager of contemporary small-scale work. Companies and people she has supported include: A&E Comedy, Three Score Dance, Pocket Epics, Jennifer Irons,Tim Crouch, Liz Aggiss, Sue MacLaine, Spymonkey and many more. Lisa was Marketing Manager at Brighton Dome and Festival (1989-2001) and has also worked for South East Dance, Chichester Festival Theatre and Company of Angels. She is Marketing Manager for Carousel, learning-disability arts company.

Ira Brand - Break Yourself

Ira Brand: Break Yourself

Ira Brand - Break YourselfJeepers creepers, where d’ya get those peepers? How they hypnotise…

Ira Brand’s latest show is all about looking. Looking at, through and beyond. Being looked at. And boy, are we looked at.

Having previously investigated health, ageing and fear, Ira, who is one third of producing company Forest Fringe (with Andy Field and Deborah Pearson) now turns her intense, intelligent gaze on identity and gender. It’s a great choice for the opening show of the Marlborough’s Queer Weekender, exploring female and male sexual desire in an hour of riveting, original theatre.

On stage, Ira, dressed Drag King style, preens her hair and sips her beer, then strolls louchely round the performance boundary marked in tape on the floor. She steps in, the music starts and launches into an expert lip-synching of Bruce Springsteen’s Fire before pulling up a chair to chat, in a cool Deborah Pearson-esque way, her tone level, legs wide, gaze strong. What she tells us is alarming: a sexual fantasy where the sex is ‘consensual, just.’ The man she screws in the underground carpark is the epitome of the self-possessed male, aware of his power as he looks around the bar, knowing he is being observed. For the men in the audience, there is an accusatory frisson here – are you that kind of man?

This sudden switch from entertainment to something far darker punctuates the work. Lights go up, there’s a song, lights go down, there’s a troubling encounter in an alley. Always the emphasis is on the eyes – she tries but fails to stare the teenager down – she shakes her head to suggest ‘no’ when she means yes. There is a terrifying build up of tension here, with language so vivid we can see the scene, feel the breath on her face.

We meet Ollie, a graphic designer. He is shy, diffident, he worships Springsteen – ‘those massive arms’ – and after a bit of banter with the audience, he breaks free to dance like a demon. We have heard the choreographic instructions in a voiceover; they sound strangely like moves a woman would make rather than Bruce. Ollie totally nails it, though in his soul he will always be dancing in the dark.

Break Yourself is an investigation of gender and desire, male power and masculinity, fan-dom and performance, that is both disconcerting and thrilling to watch. There are several modes of conduct at play, provided in part by the voiceovers, which serve as a way into the construction of Ira’s role. She is told to ‘gulp, not sip’; ‘don’t look so eager’ to convince as a man. She relishes her achievements: ‘you are exactly how I imagined you.’ The lighting marks the mood changes, reflecting off a wall of white squares. We are fully aware of the acting going on, and totally suckered by it. If this all sounds a bit heavy, it’s not without wit and a sly knowledge of its own ridiculous moments. The prevalence of the male gaze that dominates so much of our culture and society is skewered by the use of Bruce Springsteen, the good guy, as its symbol. A final, beautifully choreographed dance starts seated and ends in triumphant, electric guitar twanging, rock-god mode, upright, ‘big’ arms aloft, legs wide, to wild stadium applause.

Whoever is broken here, be it Ira, Ollie, Bruce, the dominant male, the questing female, or the audience’s expectations, it’s been a magnificent rupture.

 

Patrick Sandford - Groomed - Photo by Peter Williams

Patrick Sandford: Groomed

Patrick Sandford - Groomed - Photo by Peter WilliamsIf keeping a secret can corrode the soul, and revealing it liberate, Patrick Sandford must feel a sense of scorching release on performing Groomed to a paying audience for the first time.

His story of sexual abuse at the age of 10 by a manipulative but respected teacher, is not easy viewing, but is tempered by using a range of perspectives, including that of the abuser, plus the musical punctuation of on-stage of saxophonist, Tomm Coles.

Simply staged, with a table of props – toy theatre prominent – and a bunch of balloons, Patrick opens the play with vivid dramatization of scenes from his early life. Slightly impish in manner and confident in tone, he theorizes about guilt, desire, pain, and anger with heartfelt passion in language both robust and poetic. We can feel his anguish when he is held under the school-room table, eyes fixed on the grain of the wood. Given the intimacy and heat of the makeshift theatre space, we could be under it with him.

Groomed explores how a truth can be told, a secret be spoken, and how we erect barriers for shelter. Patrick used theatre as sanctuary; there he could hide behind character, find catharsis in a fictional rage. When the Japanese soldier Hiro Onoda was eventually located in the Philippines jungle, having unnecessarily held a military position for nearly thirty years, he was treated with consideration and generosity by his country. The inventor of the saxophone, Adolfe Sax, struggled through an alarming amount of injuries and business calamities but created an instrument of lasting value and immense musical power. Their experiences provide a counterpoint to Patrick’s story and allow him to reflect on decades of unnecessary defending and celebrate his own creative achievements.

There is ambivalence in the way the play is delivered, with switches from first to third person narrative, from violent anger to comic asides, that make for a rather disjointed emotional journey. Lines such as “I was living beside, not in my life” would be even more powerful if spoken straight to us, and an on-stage relationship between Patrick and Tomm could be established earlier. Further performances will no doubt iron these things out. A larger auditorium would enable Nancy Meckler’s direction to have proper impact, with movement influencing pace.

While Groomed doesn’t break new ground in terms of theatrical form, it’s an intelligent and well constructed approach to a story that, sadly, is only too common right now. Generously supported by the charity Mankind, the play works towards opening up dialogue and relinquishing blame in order to change and heal. It does this successfully, without shifting into theatre as therapy, leaving the audience thoughtful and richer for the shared experience.

Kriya Arts - Hip

Kriya Arts: Hip

Kriya Arts - HipI like a traditional boozer: wood panels, carpet, functioning jukebox, and a decent sherry. So it’s no surprise that the Heart and Hand in Brighton’s North Laine has long been a favourite. Years ago I noticed a framed poem on the wall; odd, I thought, it doesn’t quite suit the rest of the décor.

Now, thanks to Jolie Booth’s forensic and enlightening piece, I have knowledge not just of the poet, Lee Harwood (check his Guardian obituary) but also his muse. The poem, titled ‘The Heart and Hand, North Rd Brighton, for Ann’ [sic], is dedicated to one Anne Clark and it is Anne’s world that we’ll inhabit for too short a time tonight.

The show starts outside the Marlborough Theatre, as a promenade with a nod to psychogeography: ‘Here is the Clocktower, here is Pizza Hut.’ Jolie is our tour leader, telling the story of how she squatted a Brighton flat in 2002.

We follow her inside and quietly up the narrow stairs, and enter a 1970s counter-culture happening, with the audience as guests at a bohemian party. Jolie performs a little ceremony, Rumi is recited, incense burned, and we summon the previous occupant of the flat who died four years earlier. Here comes Anne Clark, whose possessions remain in situ: diaries, letters, artwork, records. Jolie rescued the ephemera of Anne’s life from the bailiffs and it has become central to her life now, as a maker of interactive theatre. The setting is spot-on, with a lava-lamp, floor cushions, Little Feat on the gramophone, cheese and pineapple on sticks. There is subtle and evocative lighting and effective use of a hand-held torch – it’s a squat after all.

Once settled, and with the spirit of Anne now present, Jolie begins to show us what the bundles of correspondence left behind reveal, about a woman and a life. We get to feel the yellowing paper of her many letters to friends and family; some of us read passages aloud. An overhead projector magnifies a court summons  (unlawful behaviour on the Victoria Gardens) and photographs of the pubs Anne frequented. Most revealing is a timeline Jolie has compiled from thorough reading of the diaries. They show a big gap in knowledge for the last twenty years of Anne’s life; what happened? There are parallels too with Jolie’s own life and experience, as she’s also a longtime diary writer and they actually used the same brand. She tells us that such coincidences appear daily, as if she has triggered something, something connecting her to Anne. People Anne worked with, at Avalon Bookshop, or Wax Factor, provide new background. Her daughter has been in touch. The landlady of the Heart and Hand is coming to see the show.

It’s impossible not to be moved by the stories and the gradual piecing together of a history. We get to choose subjects for deeper exploration from bags labelled Hedonism, Work, Mother, Travel, and more. There’s a description of a proper 1970s threesome, photos of her working at Infinity Foods, a poem about dusting – or rather, not dusting.

Jolie is the perfect host, gently authoritative, in control of her material yet slightly in awe of it. As performance it is fascinating to watch and be part of, and there are some nice directorial touches – the eponymous hip-bone gets used as a telephone, a vibrator becomes a flute (Emma Kilbey and Brian Lobel contributed to the making process.)

Jolie describes the show as ‘ultra-real theatre’ by which she means that the audience is welcome to use their phones, move about, and interrupt as they wish. In this environment there is little opportunity for conversation and the action is quite tightly controlled. It’s a shame, because there is so much more to discover and to share.

We’ll just have to repair to the wood-panelled, carpeted, multi-gendered bar of the Marlborough pub instead. Jolie proclaims, over a Tequila toast to Anne Clark, ‘thank you for trailblazing your way through life.’ In an age of instant communication and fleeting memories, Hip is a hugely enjoyable, engaging and at times profound reflection on what we create and what we leave behind.

Bom-Bane Family Players: Bom-Banimals

Bom-Banimals - Photo by Peter ChrispEach stage of Jane Bom-Bane’s meticulously crafted promenade show is a dramatic reveal. It’s a journey through a house and a tale that gathers pace and impact as it travels, as the audience of six twists and turns down the narrow stairs of the ultimate ‘artist’s open house.’

Bom-Bane’s performance café is a Brighton institution in miniature, and previous Festival shows have been themed around palindromes (2015’s Saippuakivikauppias) and the city’s lost Wellesbourne river (in 2014).

Bom-Banimals, as you might expect, features creatures of the woods, trees, and undergrowth, but at heart is a very human story. ‘How can I match your triumphant call,’ sings Jane, ‘when I can’t find my voice at all?’

This is an immersive happening taken to extremes, from the soundtrack when you enter to the décor on the banisters, to the little nested quails eggs on the tables. It crams big ideas and big things into tiny spaces and for 45 minutes we are in a strange, magical world. And what’s that awful honking noise – is something in pain?

The animals’ songs are beautifully matched to character and vary in tone – some twinkle, some honk – accompanied by small instruments: ukulele, toy piano, penny whistle. Costumes and settings have a lovely hand-made aesthetic and a highly imaginative use of materials. There is puppetry, poetry, visual jokes, and transformations as the menagerie gathers together and with their help Jane finds her voice and her skin.

Lyrics (by Jane Bom-Bane and Eliza Skelton) are meaningful and clever, the performances beguiling and there is so much to look at that it seems to be over too quickly, rather like a fairground ride that whips you through a haunted house before you’ve had time to scream. I wanted to do it all again straight away.

Instead it’s meal-time which is always a treat here. Strange that most diners happily eat the animal option (did they learn nothing?). I have the veggie choice, a swan sculpted from filo pastry. There’s a meringue snail to follow.

Bom-Banimals is perhaps a touch lighter in content than previous Bom-Bane’s shows, but the effect is just as enchanting. We end feeling properly at home with the Bom-Bane Family Players (Jane Bom-Bane and Eliza Skelton are joined by Foz Foster, Kate Daisy Grant, Raven Kaliana, Jo McDonagh, Sebas Contreras, Kate Vaughan, and Tom Walker) and rather reluctant to leave.

I’m Hunt, She’s Darton

 Tea for two? Lisa Wolfe finds the place where food meets art, at the Hunt & Darton Café 

‘Regret nothing’ is a great life motto for some, but I still curse myself for leaving Jenny Hunt and Holly Darton’s SICK! Festival Café minutes too early one lunchtime in March 2014. My sister-in-law had just courageously selected ‘I Am The Buffet’ from the daily Set Menu, and soon found herself lying on the table being pelted with salad by merry, if bemused, customers. Sadly no photographs exist, but the scene haunts both her memory and my imagination. You don’t get that in your local Costly Coffee Shop – but there again, Hunt & Darton’s is no ordinary café…

During 2014 and 2015, Hunt & Darton Café set up shop in seven UK locations, supported by a Strategic Touring Grant from Arts Council England. To conclude the project, Hunt and Darton held a free Symposium to share their experience of the tour with others. Did they hold it in a café? No, demand required the grand theatre at Toynbee Studios, hosted by Arts Admin. In the course of three hours, with a break for tea and Tunnocks, the Symposium provided an illuminating overview of their work.

I’ve had the pleasure of attending Hunt & Darton Cafés in Brighton and Edinburgh, and was eager to discover more about how the project had developed, its artistic and social ethos, its impact, and what the future might hold for the company. On the Symposium menu were talks by contributing artists, collaborators and commissioners.

 

Hunt & Darton Cafe

Hunt & Darton Cafe

 

Starters

Hunt and Darton opened the session showing images of venues that had hosted the Café – highlighting the consistent elements that each contained, customers, key events and some photographs of the food they served – before handing over to the invited speakers.

Documentation rarely looks so good. In essence, Hunt & Darton Café is, in their words: ‘An interactive performance/installation and fully-functioning pop-up café.’ The idea emerged at a camping retreat with fellow visual artists Rachel Dobbs and Hannah Jones of Low Profile, who have since made artworks for the café, and created the loyalty schemes, of which more later.

Idea in place, it was with the support of the first speaker, Anthony Roberts, director of Colchester Arts Centre, the Live Art East Collective, and the Escalator East initiative, that they launched the first Hunt & Darton Café at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (as part of Escalator East to Edinburgh), followed by subsequent visits to the Fringe and to other cities. Over time it developed from a café run by artists, to a café with a performance space and guest artist/waiters.

From the start, Hunt and Darton, who share a background in both visual arts and intermittent catering jobs, wanted the café to be somewhere that fulfilled a physical need – hunger, thirst, getting out of the rain, resting the feet – as well as a creative need they might not have known they had: a place where the public is invited to participate in or initiate a creative event, contribute to an artwork; to be performer or audience.

 

Hunt & Darton Cafe

Hunt & Darton Cafe

 

Service Please

Customers’ expectations are challenged through the style of the service. Hunt and Darton present a dead-pan, slightly severe authority in their role as Café proprietors. This is no-nonsense service that somehow puts a customer at ease while instructing them, often quite firmly, on where to sit and what to do. The formal personalities of the staff contrasts with the novelty of their uniforms – pineapples on the head, bright ‘Lady Danger’ lipstick, fruit patterned aprons – and with the kitsch aesthetic of the Café design. Over the years, Hunt and Darton have trained other artists to be surrogate Hunt and Dartons, adopting their outward characteristics. Artists may go through an Academy process, which, rather like a franchise, allows Hunt and Darton some time off, and more importantly extends the experience for artists and customers alike.

The performance troupe Figs in Wigs are long-term Café associates. They demonstrated ‘Service at lightning speed, delivered at a snail’s pace’ – a fast and slow relay run with plate of peas as the baton. They then invited Hunt and Darton to try and beat the world pea-eating record (they failed).

Guest waiter Brian Lobel took this further in his performative contribution to the afternoon. He told us that his key interests were food and customer service and that, when performing his often highly personal work, he realised that most people were thinking about themselves. Brian finds this interesting rather than annoying; he is keen to hold the space for them. So for Hunt & Darton Café at SICK! Festival in Brighton, he offered customers an exchange, as demonstrated with an audience member, that could easily move you to tears. As someone who has participated in Brian’s work several times, I can appreciate how challenging this approach might be for a drop-in customer with a pot of tea and a crumpet, and also how life-changing and memorable.

 

Hunt & Darton Cafe

Hunt & Darton Cafe

 

Doing the Business

Food is obviously integral to the Café and, in collaboration with chef and artist Max, the menu offers a brilliantly twisted range of things toasted, unduly elaborate cakes, and retro shop-bought snacks (such as the legendary Tunnocks Tea Cakes, or perhaps a Mr Kipling Fancy). Everything is tasty, tea is served in pots, and price points are fair.

There is Art on the menu too: Community Day, where customers sit with strangers, do jigsaws, share trifle; and Health and Safety day when hair nets and rubber gloves are obligatory.

So how can this model function in a commercial setting? Hunt & Darton Cafés distort and disrupt the normality of a café by placing equal value on the art ‘on sale’ as the food and drink. Figs in Wigs’ Rachel Porter read a paper entitled The Service Economy of Hunt & Darton Café’, which made interesting connections between how art functions within commercial enterprise, where the art or the performer is the commodity. Like Brian, she referenced the relationship between hospitality and performance; the Café brings art into a workplace, and makes a workplace an artistic happening. Initiatives like Open Barbers – a community interest company and regular pop-up at Duckie, and Say Cheese which delivered themed meals alongside a Martin Parr exhibition in March 2014, offer a similar bridge between commerce and art. Somewhere there is a wax sculpture made of my hair, courtesy of barber and sculptor Stuart McCaffer (Summerhall, Edinburgh Fringe 2014, £10.) There are those, in government right now perhaps, who would be happy for all art to be commodified and price-tagged. But, as Jenny later explained, while the food part of the business might break even, the art has to be subsidised. To make this crystal clear, all transactions at the Café are chalked onto blackboards, by customers and staff; the profit and loss is transparent, the responsibility shared. We give and we receive.

 

Scottee at Hunt & Darton Cafe

Scottee at Hunt & Darton Cafe

 

Always Right

At the heart of the Hunt & Darton Cafe ethos is the audience-cum-customer. It’s all about us. This manifests most clearly in the loyalty scheme, outlined for us by Rachel Dobbs of Low Profile. It shares several characteristics with the familiar Nectar or Boots Loyalty Card, but in adopting the style of a name badge, simply saying LOYAL, it is also a conversation point and a badge of honour. Low Profile later created KEEN, a framed word-piece for anyone who travelled to several of the venues on tour. One proud couple visited four.

Daniel Pitts, arts producer at Cambridge Junction described how big an impression the Café had on the public in his region over three successive visits. In China, which Hunt & Darton Café visited courtesy of Forest Fringe and The British Council, people thoroughly enjoyed the disruption the Café brought to their lives. Forest Fringe’s Andy Field wondered if he was exporting something quintessentially British, and if so, what? He discovered that what the Hunt & Darton Café offers is not an obscure, nor fundamentally British commodity – it belongs to the space it visits.

You can see the happy faces of customers on countless Facebook pages and websites. It was down to performance artist Scottee, after the tea-break, to flip the coin. His learning, from two years on the road with the Café, was that England ‘was and always will be a poxy shithole.’  Scottee is furious that we, the public, allow this to be and do too little to incite change. He wants a revolution.

In the final artist’s presentation, Richard DeDomenici screens an ‘audio visual extravaganza’ of the life of the Café. It illustrates just how the Hunt & Darton Café has forced change, does shake things up, does cause people to reflect on their conduct and be part of a community, even if only for an hour over Sunday Lunch in a Sandwich (a famous Café dish that is is exactly what it says – a roast dinner sandwich).

If Richard’s films highlight the fun of the place, the final Q&A bangs home the broader issues.

From the outset, the artistic ambition matched the business ambition. The audience experience, whilst playful and original, has purpose – customers are complicit in the art. Aesthetic choices are not frivolous – pineapples don’t just sit well on the head and look good, they have long been a symbol of wealth and trade. The Cafés have given opportunities for artists to make new work and share it with a very different audience. Hunt and Darton have also learned a lot over the life of the project, enhancing their artistic practice, and have been astonished at the generosity and loyalty of customers. What happens next is for another chapter. Hunt & Darton Café will exist, but probably not as a touring construct. The need to create something new is pulling. If today we didn’t quite learn how to go about setting up something similar, our home-going Party Bag with tool-kit and starter ornament will help.

As Andy Field so rightly says, ‘silliness is not the opposite of seriousness.’ Hunt and Darton prove this perfectly with a throwaway final remark – ‘by the way, I’m Hunt, she’s Darton.’

Thanks ladies. We’ll remember that.

 

Hunt & Darton

Hunt & Darton

 

The Hunt & Darton Café Symposium took place on Friday 5 February 2016 at Toynbee Studios, London, hosted by Arts Admin.

All images courtesy of Hunt & Darton.