Writings

Lu Kemp: One Thousand Paper Cranes ¦ Photo: Gary Lynass

Lu Kemp: One Thousand Paper Cranes

August 10th, 2011 by

Constructed with as much care and attention as the complex origami within the play, this visually stunning piece explores the real-life story of Sadako Sasaki, a twelve year-old Japanese girl who fell terminally ill in 1955 as a result of radiation sickness from the Hiroshima disaster. Hope unfolds in the form of Sadako’s best friend […]

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Folded Feather: Life Still ¦ Photo: Craig Hull

Folded Feather: Life Still

August 10th, 2011 by

Set following an unspecified catastrophic event, this highly aesthetic abstract performance without words utilises some clever object manipulation and evocative soundscapes to create a disturbing and confusing world. Attention to detail is absolute; every movement that the two performers make is painstakingly delivered and totally committed. Possibly more like a performance installation than a theatrical […]

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David Greig / National Theatre of Scotland: The Strange Undoing of Prudencia Hart

David Greig / National Theatre of Scotland: The Strange Undoing of Prudencia Hart

August 10th, 2011 by

Folk legend has it that the ‘devil’s ceilidh’ opens up a chink of time at midnight on midwinter’s eve. Into this falls a 28 year-old postgraduate student called Prudencia Hart. Despite her supposed expertise in the topography of hell in Scottish balladry, she is caught unawares and spends four millennia looking out from a bed […]

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Greg McLaren: Doris Day Can Fuck Off

Greg McLaren: Doris Day Can Fuck Off

August 10th, 2011 by

Greg McLaren has been singing – a lot. One day McLaren decided to venture into the world and sing, replacing every mode of speech in his day-to-day activities with song, no matter how mundane. Doris Day can Fuck Off is the result of his self-imposed task. Wearing an 80s pop punk get-up we see Greg scrambling amongst […]

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Told by an Idiot: The Dark Philosophers ¦ Photo: Toby Farrow

Told by an Idiot: The Dark Philosophers

August 10th, 2011 by

Meet Gwyn Thomas, who is dead. He won’t lie down but he does occasionally slump on a sofa clutching the urn that holds his ashes, and often he’s to be found perched on a staircase, listening in on his father and his younger self, or eavesdropping on his neighbours. ‘Tell him to…’ he says, planting […]

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