How Affect was Created and Transferred in From Playful to Sadistic: A Deviant Lecture Series by A.L. Steed.

[This was my essay about my final performance project]

Shaking in the back room, I try desperately not to make any noise. I want to get this fake blood out of my nose but I’m preoccupied with listening – listening to the silence. I think I’ve stunned them. Peter Brook in The Empty Space talks about two possible climaxes in a theatrical event – that of cheering and that of silence. Rather than being deafening, this silence sounds like music to my ears. A stark contrast to the all-consuming bodily and emotional experience I’m having in the back room. Finally, there’s applause interspersed with nervous laughter – a welcomed release from the silent tension.

As the audience files out, I eagerly rush to my bowl of soapy water, still shaking, to get the horrible fake blood out of my nose. Eventually the shaking dissipates, but my mind buzzes relentlessly – a typical post-performance high, but this is the most intense high I’ve ever experienced.

Perhaps it’s because of the intense vulnerability of the piece. In investigating the spectrum of deviance from playful to sadistic, I had to allow myself to go into the deep, dark scary place within myself. The progression to the point where I destroy the laptop needed the proper build-up.  So I went there. And it was terrifying – which, oddly enough, goes back to my initial lecture where I killed my classmates/professor with boredom. If I wanted to recapture that terror I felt in boring people, I would have to make the audience uncomfortable – make myself completely vulnerable. I have strong feelings when it comes to vulnerability. I don’t like it. At all. Which is a problem. I feel it holding me back both artistically and in life. And throughout this process, I could feel myself holding back – so I felt it was crucial that I go to the depths of darkness within me and share that with the audience. Granted what I presented was exaggerated or heightened but the thoughts, fears and sentiments are 100% me. I wonder if the audience sensed that.

I wrote these words not long after my performance, allowing enough time for the post-performance high to wear off enough to articulate what I had felt. My hope was to capture my feelings in the moment, but I must admit that I lack the proper mastery of the written word. This does poor justice to the thoughts racing through my mind, and the uncontrollable shaking that took over my body – a body responding to a high intensity atmosphere. The same atmosphere that was responsible for the silent tension and the nervous laughter. In order to properly unpack this atmosphere and the sensations going through my body during and after the performance, we must go back to the beginning of this process.

Having researched lectures and wondered why some were engaging and others were not, I determined that it had nothing to do with the content but the delivery. Boring lectures were presented in a dull, non-engaging manner. So I decided to give a boring lecture. I must say, I succeeded brilliantly on being ill prepared – the most important element in giving a terrible lecture.

With the laptop hooked up to the TV, I set up four chairs for my classmates and professor and a small table for myself with water and my notes. Equipped with my remote I began my lecture on deviant behaviour. After giving a concise sociological definition, I stumbled through slides, didn’t speak with confidence, avoided eye contact, said “um” innumerable times, and read off of my text-filled slides. In other words, I was boring. I mean really, really boring. I could see the blankness in my classmates faces, saw my professor’s eyes glaze over. They were in a boredom-induced coma. My tactic had worked. But internally I was Freaking. The Fuck. Out. Their boredom sent my mind into a panic. Feeling like I had surpassed my 10 minutes (although, I’m sure I hadn’t) I quickened my pace just a little and fast-forwarded through a few slides. I had a failed attempt to engage with them when I asked if they had heard of the Stanley Milgram experiment and gave a quick and muddled explanation of the famous experiment. Finally at the last of my slides I ended the lecture and then got out of character as quickly as possible and transformed back into “Ashley.” The Ashley that loves not just performing, but also entertaining. “Ha-ha – I’m not really boring, I fooled you!” I tried to explain with fervent nervous energy.

This moment of terror, of panic, of uneasiness was a defining turning point in my process. In order to recapture this affect, we need to break down step by step exactly what happened during this presentation.

1)    I intended on giving a boring lecture.

2)    I was successful in giving a boring lecture.

3)    I know this because the audience was bored.

4)    I know the audience was bored because I could see and feel their boredom.

5)    Seeing and feeling their boredom sent me into a panic driven frenzy.

If I a) intended on giving a boring lecture and b) was successful in doing so, then why did I have such a visceral response to boring my classmates/professor? Why did I feel the need to immediately explain my intentions after presenting? Where did this feeling come from, and why were all my “danger” synapses firing? Why did I feel the need to get out of that situation as quickly as possible? If I had planned this boring execution, then why did I feel so out of control?

The answer lies in the audience’s reactions. I had been focusing entirely on the production aspect of performance without giving proper consideration to how people would respond. There is only so much one can anticipate in terms of live performance. Thus the interplay between me as experience creator, audience as responsive, and me as a reactive performer became a defining feature of my research-based performance. If, as in scientific studies, research is a way to predict and control, then in a performance context it’s a way to test the audience-performer paradigm. I’m interested in unravelling that relationship, in how they affect one another and how that relationship affects both the performance experience as a whole and the creative process.

Admittedly this interplay didn’t become obvious until my first scratch performance. Now having begun building the deviant character into my presentation I could feel the audience responding. I was no longer playing to a black hole of participants in a boredom-induced coma – they were laughing, responding, engaged.

…because I could feel the audience responding, I no longer had the terror of presenting to an essentially dead space. I’ll never be able to capture that terror I had which is both incredibly sad and retrospectively beautiful. Now I finally understand the ephemerality of performance. I understand that no two performances are ever really the same from my personal experience as a performer; but as a performer, I’m supposed to capture emotions and sensations and then reiterate them time and time again. I’ve found the responsive repetition of performance quite soothing and relish in the ability of skilled performers to make that repetition feel new, instant, spontaneous. There’s something curious about the affect of repetition on the real emotion rather than the imitation. I’m not imitating myself and, therefore, will never truly capture that raw terror again. I don’t know how I feel about that.

Although I had determined that recapturing that terror as no longer possible, in that moment I had failed to recognize the possibility of another mode of transmission. And even though I had mentioned the role of a skilled performer, I had failed to recognize that a skilled performer also affects the atmosphere. I was also failing to properly interpret the cause of my initial emotional state of terror. I wasn’t actively feeling panic or fear and therefore concluded that due to the new shift in audience responsiveness I would never be able to attain that unexpected fear. Again, it goes back to discovering the impulses of fear and panic I had felt in that initial boring lecture. That feeling of panic came from a sparring between expectation and anticipation. I as a creator must play with and anticipate audience’s expectations. With this scratch performance, although I had begun playing with expectations, I hadn’t anticipated their reactions and thus lost all the uneasiness of my boring lecture. In other words, I was presenting new material but expecting the same reactions. Therefore the interplay between creator–receiver–reactor needed a proper playground to explore the audience-performer paradigm. If I wanted to recapture the uneasiness felt in the boring lecture, I would have to actively place it back into the fold. In order to do this, I replaced the fear of feeling out of control with my own fear of vulnerability. Therefore, I made myself vulnerable, uncomfortably so, and invited the audience into that vulnerability and state of uneasiness.

In creating the final project, I was now actively working on what I call the triangulation of affect, a play on Teresa Brennan’s seminal work on the language of the body and its Transmission of Affect. Although I was doing a solo piece, I had created two distinct characters and their interaction relied heavily on audience responses. These reactions were anticipated in order to create the characters. Although the deviant character of the PowerPoint was fixed, the lecturer, performed by me, was not. I was able to react to the audience in real time while simultaneously anticipating and playing out the sequence of the piece.

According to Brennan, affects are overwhelming emotions and the only thing salient about them is that they are transmitted. She privileges feelings over affects, because affects are thoughtless and not attuned to language and sensation. This inability to properly communicate affects troubles Brennan and although I was sceptical in this inability to process the physiological change that affect has on the audience it wasn’t until I actually performed that I understood her concern. After my performance, those I asked had trouble articulating what they just experienced. Many mentioned feelings but weren’t able to communicate exactly what feelings were felt. It’s as if the affect of my performance somehow short-circuited Broca’s area of the brain – making language production difficult. My own physiological shift immediately after the performance was completely short-circuited as my autonomic system shook my body ferociously until the energy eventually dissipated.

What happened in my performance to cause this? Where in my triangulation of affect allowed for this build up of energy or ‘energetics’ as Brennan discusses, i.e. ‘the study of the energetic and affective connections between an individual, other people and the surrounding environment’?  The connection between myself, the audience and the environment was made explicit in the structure of the piece. Using my basic understanding of the audience-performance paradigm to my advantage, I slowly shifted and shaped the audience’s responses. Whenever they would laugh or respond to the presentation, I would acknowledge it, thereby encouraging them to continue responding openly. Then came the shift from a cognitive interaction to a physiological or visceral response. As Brennan argues, we don’t just read bodies with our eyes, we read them with all of our senses. We smell fear, are attuned to the quickened heartbeat of nervousness, we tense up with others’ tensions. Affects are material things, meaning they have a physical impact, albeit an unconscious one. In other words, they created a physiological shift through a chemical and energetic response in the nervous system. It’s only after the affect has occurred do we become aware of them.

As my nervous energy grew, so too did the tension in my body – this tension transferred to the audience. They grew tense with me. They became increasingly uncomfortable in my own discomfort. Not only does my energy transfer to the audience but the charge continues within the audience as well. With the climactic crack of the laptop against the corner of the table, the audience shared a cathartic moment, a communal release. In inviting the audience to respond, in playing with their expectations and creating a highly charged atmosphere of uneasiness and nervous tension, I was able build affect into my project and able to facilitate it bodily, physiologically and thus transfer my energy to the audience, and in turn build upon their energetic responses. It’s as if, momentarily I had created a perpetual motion machine of affect as we continued to build off of one another. Although I am the creator of the affect, I still rely on the audience’s collective response – without it there would be no concentrated tension, no build-up and thus no subsequent release.  

I got turned into a zombie all in the name of research

I had the pleasure of spending last weekend with people who take fun very seriously. People who design and play games outside in the urban environment. A reclamation of sorts – not just the streets, but of games. Games aren’t just for kids, a lesson well learned at Interesting Games Festival (igfest) organised by Bristol’s own SlingShot. I tagged along with the Fire Hazard crew to do research on games involving risk and playing pretend.

Saturday I worked as a guard for Fire Hazard’s City Dash – a game where players must run around the city searching for and texting in codes while trying to avoid guards who will text in the players alpha numeric code (players must wear a number plate at all times) thus making them lose points. I had fun as a guard but my area was a park which made sneaking around to catch players near impossible. Luckily I had a new Canadian friend to keep me company as we watched people hide behind trees and run sideways (so as not to show their number plate. Overall things ran smoothly and people really liked the game. So yay Fire Hazard!

Later on I played a game called Mr Smith by Yao Song Ng. The premise – me must catch Mr Smith, who wears a white mask, and collect ribbons, but he can teleport (by removing his mask) and reappearing somewhere else in the city, in which someone else puts the mask on and becomes Mr Smith. A lot of running is involved and keeping an eye out. Oh and there’s also an evil Red Masked Mr Smith who will take your ribbons. My friend learnt this the hard way – we were following Mr Smith down an alley when he turned into the Red Mask and took her ribbons. We heard her yell “run” and took off. It was a fun game and perfect for the crowded market and surrounding area making spotting Mr Smith and then chasing after him difficult. I even ducked into a restaurant when running away from the Red Mask. Overall it’s a simple but well executed game.

Afterwards I did this thing called the Stimulator by Susi Glatt. You choose which stimulation you want (I chose Mexican Busride) and then you’re taken into a tent and step onto an elliptical. Her assistant throws a ridiculous hat on me. Then the madness begins. For mine, the music starts, there’s stuff blowing in my face, people are screaming, giant bugs attack me, and I so much more – I run faster on the elliptical thinking that I can get away which is stupid because obviously I’m not going anywhere but that doesn’t stop me from trying… I loved it. Totally absurd and silly – the two people running it are completely committed which obviously is what makes it work. I also enjoyed sitting outside the tent watching people queue up and wonder about the strange screams and sounds coming from inside.

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Saturday night I played the main event: 2.8 Hours Later – a zombie chase game. I teamed up with a few of the Fire Hazard crew plus my new friend Sophie who I met while playing Mr Smith. As the name suggest – it is basically an epic version of tag where zombies chase after you and if you’re tagged you become infected and at the end of the game are turned into a zombie. This is seriously the most fun I’ve had playing a game ever – it’s exhilarating, fun, funny, scary, exciting, silly and serious, and definitely intense.

Before we started we were given the rules: If you see a zombie, run. That’s pretty much it. We were given points throughout to go meet the different characters to get to the Resistance – the end a point, but basically it was running away from zombies. We all had to repeat, “I am deluded” as to remind ourselves that this is taking place in real life and that we are not invincible so if we want to prevent ourselves from turning into jam we should avoid stepping out in front of cars. So our team of six (Nick and Alexis, Gwyn and Viv, and Sophie and me) gets set, ready and goes to the first point. We’re told were our first checkpoint is and start running for it. As soon as we turn a corner we spot zombies and immediately lose 2 of our team. The four of us plug on and spot another zombie. This one is fast too. My team runs on and I lag behind hiding behind cars and wait for the zombie to chase after others. I see my chance and run for it, catching up with the team.

We make our way to the first checkpoint, eyes open and watching everyone, anything that moves. There’s an infect girl inside a storefront window with her father outside who looks like he’s seen better days. He yells at us and tells us to go to the church – and so we do. We walk down the street and see the intersection has zombies so we go round to another street and see the church. There’s a zombie guarding it, but we manage to race by and get in to safety. We walk down the dimly lit aisle to a shrine for all those who are missing. We then turn the corner and see the priest who’s been tied up. He’s infected and is mad (as in cray cray) and shouts the coordinates of the next location at us. Upon exiting we catch up with the two people we lost in the very beginning and joined in with another group.

As we walked along the road we stopped to look at the map. An older man across the road asked if we needed any help – one kindly replied back, “No thank you, we’re playing a game.” The bulk of the group wanted to go round the street and then cut into the park but the four of us decided we didn’t want to do that so we spilt up. Sophie and I then spilt from Nick and Alexis. The two of us climbed up the side and peered into the park. Zombies were chasing down people but we could see the next location. I saw sophie take off and as soon as the coast was clear I took off too. I barely made it to safety. We saw were reunited with Nick and Alexis and soon after Gwyn and Viv come funning around the corner – Gwyn’s been infected (this is his third time playing and first time getting infected). We then go inside, there’s a man cutting up bodies. He’s a bit mental and completely freaks me out. We step over and on top of body parts. It’s seriously gross. He tells us we need to find a girl in the Galleries and so we’re off. We dart out of the building and zombies are everywhere. As we run, I slip and land on my right knee and then slid a bit. Determined to not get caught I jump back up and quickly limp back to my group.

My knee is throbbing and stings. I try to walk it off but it’s not having any of that. Our group of four (Gwyn and Viv are still with the meat man) runs over the next location. I’m trying really hard to ignore the pain in my knee and then I look up. The Galleries is a three-story shopping mall. My eyes light up. “We’re going to run inside a shopping mall!” I squeal. We’re told to go down to the ground floor to find packets of drugs and then go up to the third floor where we’ll find a young woman hiding out. She’ll tell us the next place to go to in our search for the Resistance. I have to say, nothing compares to being chased by zombies inside a massive shopping mall in the middle of the night. By far the highlight of the night. We go in and immediately see a zombie – he looks like he’s seen better days and isn’t nearly as coordinated as some of the others we’ve encounter so we quickly run past him only to encounter more. We see the escalators and race over and down. There’s a zombie blocking the centre and subsequent exit and two others by the other set of escalators and stairs. At this point I’ve lost my team. I run past the zombie and search for the packets of drugs. They’re not easy to find but finally I see one and quickly grab it. I’m right next to the zombies but I hide behind a sign and watch them chase after others. Then I see Sophie. She hasn’t found any drugs yet so I grab another one for her. We try to go up to the third floor, but I lose her again. I’m on my own and run up the escalators. Finally to the third floor I see the safety room is guarded. I wait for the zombie to go after someone and then book it into the room. I’m elated to see Nick and Alexis but there’s no Sophie. A few minutes later she rushes into the room. Our little four-some is reunited. We’re shuffled into a tiny room where we meet the young woman. She quickly takes the packets of drugs from us. There’s a cot and some supplies, you can tell she’s been here for a while and is too afraid to leave. We’re told our next meeting point and are sent back into the zombie-infested shopping mall. Crap. Now we have to go back down to the ground floor to leave. By this time there are people running around everywhere and zombies are guarding all the escalators and stairs. We manage to go down one floor on the stairs and then all hell breaks loose. We split up (again) and I try to race down the escalator, which is going up so I’m not moving very fast. Deciding that trying to run down and escalator going up is stupid I run back and race round the corner to the down escalator and just miss getting tagged by a zombie. I get down to the ground floor and see the rest of my team. Sophie manages to sneak by the zombie guarding the exit ad runs to safety without ever looking back. The rest of us run around the centre. Then Nick says he’ll distract the zombie so that we can run to safety. The definition of a true gentleman. The plan works and we run. And a few minutes later Nick comes running through to safety with a big grin on his face. What a guy.

We then look outside and see a zombie to our left and zombies to our right. Well, we need to go right so we take off. Again I lag behind as zombies chase my friends and I hide and sneak around the corner. Luckily the zombie has trapped someone inside a phone booth and is patiently waiting so I race past and catch up with the rest of the gang. We went around a corner into a courtyard and found a homeless man called the Gatekeeper who told us about zombies in the process of turning and that we’d need to trick them somehow to get by. We go up some stairs and around a corner then down the street. We come up to the pit (a pedestrian underpass) and see the female zombies who are clearly out of it. My plan to trick them is to just act like a zombie. That doesn’t last very long as it’s dark so I freak out and just run for is while aggressively screaming at the zombies. Over in a corner we see a girl and her boyfriend whose been attacked. They beg us for help and tell us were the Resistance headquarters are. We thanks them and continue our journey. By this time Sophie is properly freaking out. Everyone who passes us she earnestly asks, “Are there any zombies over there?” Some play along, others keep their distance.

We turn a corner – “I know this area,” I say, stopping in my tracks. It’s a shady area with lots of streets and alleys, be extra cautious. We briefly take out the map. I look at Sophie who turns to look at me – her face frozen with fear as she yells “Zombie!” and takes off. Before I know it the zombie has me in its clutches. One second. That’s all it takes. I let my guard down for one second and was attacked. Sophie and Alexis take off and Nick and I run around the corner. I’m epically ticked off now. I was determined to make it to the Resistance unscathed. We walk up the road and see a zombie hiding behind a car. We run past and I turn to a gate but quickly discover it’s the wrong one as I crash into the locked gate. I’m trapped and another zombie comes and infects me. Defeated yet again. “Fuck my life” I shout at the zombie. Finally I run around the corner and make it into the Resistance. We all queue up to go through processing. (The rest of my team is already inside). By this point my knee is throbbing and I joke, “Ok, someone get me a beer and a medic, in that order.” Up top, a woman in a full body hazard suit asks if I’ve been infected. “Yes,” I reply with a sigh. I then go through a scanner which separates the survivors from the infected. Those of us who are infected are taken through a factory-like process in which we are quickly and effectively turned into zombies. Then it’s downstairs to the zombie disco! I find my team and grab a beer. Then I ask one of the organisers if there’s a medic on site as I’d like a second opinion on my knee. Two medics come out to take a look. Both were lovely and we laughed about my injury. Although my knee was badly bruised I’m chuffed that I have a real medical report saying that the problem is: “Fell on R knee and slid while running away from zombies.” Amazing – when real life and pretend play collide.

What an exhilarating, albeit exhausting, game. It was well planned and professionally executed. The actors were fully committed, the simple story line and melee of characters were sharp, and the zombies were absolutely terrifying. The creators behind 2.8 Hours Later are to be applauded, as this is definitely the standard that all participatory theatrical events should be judged by.


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The next day I was definitely feeling sore from the night before. I decided to take it easy. That morning I went to an informal game designer brunch where the designers discussed why they make games. We talked a about taking ideas from others, money, games for kids vs games for adults, rules, I talked about risk, the ideal game, where we’d like to see this medium go, etc. etc. It was a good talk and useful for my dissertation (I think we’re going to compile notes as there was too much background noise to record the chat, if so, I’ll post them).

Afterwards I played Cowgirl Cowhunt by Catherine Herdlick from San Francisco. There were cows, cowgirls, an Indian (as in Native American), and a wrangler. We played in one of the main plazas – cows had to search for fodder (clothes pins) to fatten up. Cowgirls would brand and bring in to cows for gold. The wrangler would steal cows and then sell them for gold. And the Indian (me) would put out more fodder and take money from cows that had more than one coloured fodder on their back. It was fun and laid back which was nice as I was still sore from the zombie run.

That afternoon was another City Dash with Fire Hazard. I was guarding a different area this time and caught 8 people. It was another successful game (for the most part) and people really enjoyed it.

I had an early train back to London as I had an MA dinner so I wasn’t able to play any more games. I had an amazing weekend, met some awesome people, played fun games, and all of it was in the name of research for my dissertation on participatory theatrical events. And I’m now completely enamoured by this medium. Not only do I want to play more, but I also want to get involved in creating games.

Here’s to my summer of dissertation fun fun fun.

When the concept overpowers the words

As a performer and director, I treat the play-text with the greatest respect. I love style, heightened acting, visual feasts, hybrid forms, colours, lights, sounds, textures, etc etc - but if these things don't compliment the text (especially one that's been around a while) then I too feel disconnected from the experience. And that is exactly how I felt in Deborah Warner's re-imagining of Sheridan's classic comedy The School for Scandal at the Barbican.

Sheridan's beloved comedy on Georgian social mores is often difficult to produce. It's wit, although sharp, is specific to 18th century comedy and many contemporary productions go overboard in trying to re-align the text to contemporary concerns and anxieties. But I don't think a complete re-invention of the text is necessary. It's a charming look at gossip and the keeping up with the Jones' mentality of the upper echelons of society - they're vulgar, self-centered, and shallow - and yet some are redemptive and likeable nonetheless. Warner's production is a bold attempt to bring the classic into the 21st century - mixing Georgian and contemporary styles with a Brechtian structure of movable/foldable sets, showing us the workings of stage. It's visually stunning and playful (to the point of absurdity) but the muddy concept overpowers the words and thus the characters.

Costumes mix together Georgian corsets with modern tights, buckle shoes and sneakers, ripped jeans and 18th century wigs. Cell phones and coke (both the drug and the drink) make appearances. It's as if Warner is shouting "look how relevant this is to today's world!!!"

There's nothing consistent about this production. Sheridan wrote in a simpler time. Many of today's theatre is shrouded with contemporary society's anxiety of the information age where everything is at our fingertips. Sometimes we try to overcompensate as today's world is fast and confusing as new information flows faster and faster. It's hard to keep up. Warner's production embodies this uneasiness which is why is simply doesn't work with Sheridan's assured text. Even generational differences are shown through the acting styles - adding to the confusion of the direction. The older actors are calm and confident in their characters and delivery of the text - they are subtle, clear and lovely.

I believe in being bold as a director. But I also think sometimes the boldest choice is keeping it simple. I loved the visual blurring of Georgian and contemporary styles, I also loved the set (but not for this production) but overall the concept overpowered the text. The acting (although strong all around) was not consistent nor apart of the same world. It was filled with over zealousness and lacked humanity. Breathing new life into an old story is one thing, but if you want to completely re-invent a classic then just write a new story. Also, trust your audience. I felt as if I was being coddled at times - again that has to go with the "look how relevant this old play is!" concept. When it comes to the classics, simply good story telling will suffice. Trust the words. Make them come to life.

Idiots on Horses

Ok so this is another ridiculously late post (May was all consuming!)  I saw this hilarious show back in the beginning of May at the Barbican, I definitely want to see more from the absurdly creative group Told by an Idiot.

I don't think I've ever seen anything so absurd before. There's a whole lotta WTH is happening here? We Have Hitchcock, Acrobats, Louis IVX, a department store, monkeys, bugs bunny, the Alps, dogs lit on fire, and bombs. The quintet ensemble masterfully switch from scene to scene, character to character. Although I must admit I was a bit lost in the beginning (I went into it not knowing anything about the play nor the company), once they got past the multiple story lines set-up I was able to follow along.

The interweaving story lines become darker and darker throughout but the charm and characterizations keep it funny - well, absurd really. It's only later does one realize the implications of laughing at extremism. My favorite sequence follows a family of acrobats traveling through the Alps to France on the request of Louis IVX. They find a crevasse and after chopping down a tree the family one by one cross over. Sadly, one of the members falls to his death. Cue melodramatic music:  A passing around of his hat as they all mourn his death with great over-emphasis. It's hysterical. Which is horrible. A wind storm comes and they struggle - with pure comedic eagerness - up the Alps. Unfortunately, one is blown off the mountain. Cue melodramatic music:  A passing around of her hat as they all mourn her death with great over-emphasis. Again, it's hysterical. Which, again, is horrible.

As amusing as the performances are, the dark comedy and suspense melodrama hybrid never quite reaches its full potency - partly due to the sketch comedic structure. They are working with a highly charged topic of the dangers of extremism (under the motto Enlightenment by Demonstration) and I don't think they quite succeeded in delivering that message. That being said, the sheer bravado of the ensemble is enough to keep you engaged. Watching them, I kept thinking to myself, "I want to play with them!"

This show is another example of contemporary society's preoccupation with apocalyptic anxieties. We are our own worst enemies. The Enlightenment by Demonstration conceit shows us that sometimes there's no stopping our self destructive actions.

I'm Suspected to have superpowers but I obviously don't know how to use them.

I participated in Suspected with Fire Hazard Games back in April and am barely getting round to posting it (whoops).


24 April 2011

Two days before the event I was sent an email with my instructions → meet Sunday at 11am at Jubilee Gardens. Attached was a link to download a number sheet and wear at the testing grounds, a map of the area, and an mp3 to be played at exactly 11:15am on Sunday when Big Ben chimes. The government will be testing our superpowers – mine is mindreading. My codename: Horse.

A day before the event I received a cryptic email:

they're being too nice. years of suppression and now suddenly we’re getting awards? we think it might be a trap. best to play along for now. keep your eyes open. jackson will contact you. don’t talk. delete this message #fhsuspected

On the day I made sure I had everything I needed: number sheets – check; map – check; mp3 – check. I even brought duct tape because you never know when duct tape might come in handy. I arrived at Jubilee Gardens early and saw other “citizens” gathering, putting on their number plates and anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 11:15am. When the time came we all went silent and listened to the Citizen Education Officer instructions on our mp3 players. Due to our special powers, the government is testing our abilities to see how they function. We’re given individual cryptic clues and the hunt for codes on the South Bank begins.

To be honest, I felt really daft considering I chose intuition and throughout most of the event I had no idea what was happening. I’d figure out a clue, go to the place and then not find it (later I found out that some people were removing codes, but more on that later) and even if I figured out a clue, the next clue would be given before I had time to write down the pervious clue. (I also didn’t realize that I was supposed to be texting in clues along the way – whoops). I also had no idea how my mindreading super power came into play. And just when I was figuring things out, the test was over (30-minutes simply wasn’t enough). We all met up at the final meeting point and the director of the test came out to speak to us. Then one of the guards shouted and people pulled out nerf guns and shot the director. We were then told to disperse back into society.

Now, there was a lot happening at this event. I was totally clueless, but nonetheless still enjoyed the experience and love the concept (I just have loads of notes to make it better). I also spoke with participants after the event and many of them had a similar experience to mine and yet they all said they would like to do it again and wanted to try similar events. One guy I spoke to said he did it because he wanted a thrill, to experience something outside of everyday life. His girlfriend met up with him after the event and I asked her why she didn’t play. Simply put, she had no interest in participating in events like Suspected. She did say, however, that she loves art and going to theatre and cultural events, preferring to be a spectator and not a participant. Having these two perspectives are important in addressing my dissertation. I know why I like to play pretend (as an actor/performer and in everyday life) so I’m intrigued as to why those whose lives aren’t enmeshed in performance would like to participate in a pervasive game like this.

As I mentioned above, some of the game was ruined by the fact that some people removed codes so the rest of us could no longer play, thus giving them the advantage. Although deception was implied in the format, the code removers were not playing by the rules (to be fair, the rules were never clearly defined). According to Johan Huizinga in Homo Ludens in contests and games it is essential that everyone play by the rules or else it ruins it for everyone else. So those of us who no longer had access to the codes were frustrated and confused as it hindered our ability to play and denying us the chance to get more clues to other codes.

With pervasive games like this, it appears a proper understanding of one’s role in the game is essential. I need to know why I’m running around the Southbank looking like an idiot searching for codes and running away from people wearing berets (guards). That being said, it was funny seeing the reactions of passersby react at a bunch of people wearing numbers, diligently listening to iPods and looking around desperately with such earnest.

Although this particular game needs more development, the fact that so many people stayed after the event to discuss ways of making it better with the organizers strikes up an interesting aspect of pervasive games: it brings together a community. We were all actively coming together to express our opinions and genuinely wanted to help create a better event. How many times do you do that when you walk out of the theatre? I dare argue that because these events are participatory we feel like we have the right to engage in the creation of the event. After all, participatory events like this rely on the participants – those playing need to do just that: play. And we were all hungry for more.

More. That’s something that keeps cropping up with me. I want more participation, more interaction, more risk, more thrill. I wonder if my wanting more will ever be satiated or if my wanting more will ever go too far. I also wonder why I want more – why I’m actively seeking out risk and deviance, and why I’m never completely satisfied. Will I ever resort to actual crime to get my fix? Could it ever go that far?

From Playful to Sadistic: A Deviant Lecture Series by A.L. Steed

The Department of Sociology at Queen Mary, University of London is proud to present the first part of a 12 part lecture series on Deviance and Criminology by PhD research fellow A.L. Steed.

This lecture is a brief introduction on deviance and criminology and the beginning of Miss Steed’s research in answering the question criminologists have been asking themselves for years:  ‘What are people trying to accomplish when they commit a crime and why are they trying to accomplish it?’

Please join us for the first lecture on Sunday 15 May at 6:00pm in the Mason Lecture Hall. (Here is a map of the Queen Mary campus, the Mason Lecture Hall is located in the Francis Bancroft building, number 26 on the map. http://www.qmul.ac.uk/docs/about/26065.pdf)

A.L. Steed (BA Psychology, MA Cultural Anthropology) is a visiting research fellow for the Department of Sociology at Queen Mary University of London. She is currently undergoing her PhD  investigating the relationship between human experience and human ontology in trying to understand and effectively deconstruct criminal and deviant behaviour. Her focus is on creativity and play and their impact on human behaviour especially with regards to criminality. A.L. has written for numerous publications such as American Journal of Sociology, Journal of Mundane Behavior and Deviant Behavior.

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Disclaimer:  This is a part of the MA Theatre and Performance Independent Practical Project festival Lines of Thought.

A couple of questions with Kindle's Jess Mackinnon

I was able to ask Jess Mackinnon from Kindle Theatre a couple of questions about Eat Your Heart Out as I was writing my Contemporary theatre and performance essay on a phenomenal and semiotic reading of theatrical food. See Mackinnon's response to my inquiry on why they work with food below.



Why Food...

Because we have always been interested in rituals which bring people together... in communion. For us this is the point of theatre, and we do not often have that experience when we go to the theatre ourselves. Religion does it well... though none of us are religious. One of our earlier pieces In My Father's House borrowed directly from the Eucharist.


As friends we have found that food brings us together. We like cooking and eating and drinking too much. Food is a useful and interesting way of bringing people together, and supplies a variety of conventions that we can manipulate to tell a story... for example the toast, the decision not to eat a certain thing, the passing of the salt. In Eat Your Heart Out for example the fact that there is no vegetarian option is extremely important. It is two fingers up to the dinner party convention where all tastes are catered for, and is a provocation for the audience and a source of dinner party discussion... some people were genuinely angry, some understood the narrative significance, some vegetarians thought sod it and ate the meat.

Communion's aim is to bring humans as close together as possible, to challenge our singular, and so ultimately lonely experience. Food is the closest you can get inside another human being other than sex and we can't have sex with our audience. Though we have done another experiment where twenty Athenian youths kissed our audience, feeding them lemon posset- via the lips- in the process.

We are interested in creating peripatetic worlds and wanted to experiment with how we could tell a story through taste and smell.


Why did Kindle put together this event?

This particular event was put together because we were invited to be part of the festival and it is exciting and useful to be part of such festivals if we want to tour, and so survive in an increasingly difficult environment. The show itself has taken a number of forms, from studio show to large scale walk through installation. We put it on because we wanted to tell a story that would be interesting for an audience. We wanted to experiment with direct story-telling and with food and dining. We try to think of every new piece as an opportunity to test something and if it goes horribly wrong then at least we know. As much as possible we want to avoid being formulaic with our work though we have a style because of the consistency of the core team making and performing the work - we have our approach. We wanted to serve food that would challenge the audience. In one version the meat is served directly out of the carcass of the queen. We wanted to ask questions about how people behave at the end of the world. About the luxury of dietry choice (a couple of us are ex-vegetarians so it's not a criticism... only a question). About our capacity to look after number one. When we started making this show two years ago the fear of apocalypse felt extremely relevant... the climate change debate was particularly rampant... less so now. The grotesque campery that we have hopefully reached, means that the politics are an undercurrent rather than a polemic. Perhaps we can be more subversive by creating work which is fundamentally entertaining but sneaks in a definate argument.. or provocation is perhaps a better word.