MC A&P Logbook

MC A&P Text 8

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:11:04 +0000

26-10-11

We’ve now been given our pieces for the Text and Performance section of our ‘Live at Lunch’ showcase.

I’ve been given a scene from Two by Jim (I’m Northern, right. And don’t you forget it!) Cartwright to perform with Ashley Craig.

It’s very one sided text-wise towards my character Roy. But it is Ashley’s Lesley that has all the focus on her!

It is a scene of spousal abuse. Set in a pub. Two was intended to be performed by only two actors, in which the whole play has scenes made up of a single male and female, with time for the actors to change into other characters to create different one male, one female based scenes.

In our scene, if I was doing the whole play, I’d of just changed from being the landlord chatting to Lesley, to Roy returning from the bar, to sit and chat to lesley. going from a friendly old bloke to an acidic, sharp wife beating menace.

I, we, don’t have to consider this really, but it is a thought nonetheless.

MC A&P Core 8

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:10:54 +0000

14-10-11

Substitution

Breaking up with Candace using substitution.

Right. Ok.

So Candace, it’s not working.

Done.

If only it was that simple.

MC A&P Movement 7

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:10:42 +0000

14-10-11

Movement from Pictures.

Getting into the frame of mind of devising apiece of movement from a stimulus, this week we had 4 photographs from which, myself, Rowen, Kerry and Melanie had to create a movement of a few minutes.

They were good to work with but I have to say, it was the last day of term and, well, I was less than useful. I really struggled with the emotional hangover and exhaustion of my non-curricular theatre work of this week. And like I said, it was last day of the term.

But I have to say, it’s twice now I’ve worked with Rowen, and twice I feel I’ve let her down with my complete non-enthusiasm. Same can be said for working with Mel, but well, it was twice in the same week, she must know why I’m crap, she came to see the show. Actually, so did Rowen. And in fact Kerry was in it with me!

Hmm, Can I use the ‘I’m old’ card?

‘But Kerry’s old!’

‘No, no. No she’s not!’

MC A&P Theory and Practitioners 7

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:10:24 +0000

13-10-11

Bye Boal, it was brief (thankfully)!

This class was a half and half.

Half a final run for our Reduced Shakespeare pieces and half a final recap of Augusto Boal’s idea of theatre, Forum Theatre.

I’d like to say that Boal’s contribution to theatre and acting is more than the ‘park bench’ in almost every warm up I seem to do, I not too sure what it is.

Yes ‘Games for Actors and Non-Actors’ is a fine book, so much better than the trite nonsense of Constantine running about his flat with chocolate cake on his face, I don’t really know what Boal has given Western theatre. Being South American, I don’t think he cared anyway, but now that his part of the world now has the freedom of democracy, I don’t know what he’s contributed to his homeland- long term.

Maybe I don’t understand the impact forum theatre had. Maybe it’s because it’s used to convey anti-knife, drugs, drink, fun, anti-everything at every primary school across the UK. I mean, I grew up with anti-LSD-tabs forum theatre at my school. Kid you not, it was about how these pretty little picture dots that some naughty adults (those bloody naughty adults!) may have left about the place. And if we see some, never touch them or you might feel very ill, very ill indeed! And tell a non-naughty adult what and where you saw all this. We had to stop one of the actors from getting ‘ill’ in the show. No, don’t touch that ladybird, or that worm or that LSD tab. It was pure panto (the original forum-theatre-art-form). But alas, the actor got ‘ill’ but then again, so did Dr D.R.E. and he’s an actual doctor!

MC A&P Devised Theatre 6

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:10:12 +0000

10-10-11

Work began on the BFG inspired piece of devised theatre.

In this group, I was with Dan, Conner and Melanie.

It was a nice mini refreshment working with Conner and Mel as I think I can say, I don’t think I’ve worked on anything with them.

But in the resulting discussion, it was nice to see Mel primarily then Conner too, leading the way. I enjoyed where the piece was going to go.

It focused as the story of the BFG did, on dreams. And also how themes from the book- royalty, outsiders (the BFG and Sophie) and a lack of normality intertwined within the book.

We can up with a Freud like dream analysing therapy session, where Connor, with a dictaphone, recorded the dreams of Dan (the dominant character dreaming of giants), Mel (the shy, dreaming of royality and money) and me (where I was the straight-down-the-middle, normal, dreaming of being normal).

But there’s a twist!

MC A&P Movement 6

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:09:55 +0000

7-10-11

The video “Strange Fish”

Hmm, it was a mild taken-a-back moment watching this.

But from it we were guided how we can go from ideas and stimuli and arrive at a finished piece of movement (not dance!).

With the strangely Spanish feeling film ended, we were given a choice of stimuli from which to choose.

A stimulus, which will direct us to a performance, in a process much like that of devising a theatre piece from another stimulus.

MC A&P Theory and Practitioners 6

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:09:41 +0000

6-10-11

Bye bye Brecht, hello Boal.

MC A&P Text 6

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:09:18 +0000

4-10-11

Godot, where are you?

This class, this day, this group of actors, will:

“Remember this seminal moment when a piece of script was truly taken off the page!”

Yes, months later, maybe I was being overly theatrical about Megan and Conner’s performance of the hanging scene from Godot, but only in the way I said it at the time. As now, just like then, I really mean what I said.

It was a piece of performance that we as a class, can and should look back at. Both with a shared pride for them but also for all ourselves. As Megan and Conner went first, and we as a class, noted the huge step up in performance levels, responded with every pair pushing to match the watermark made by them.

There were arguements at the time that Megan and Conner had not gone with the spirit of Beckett’s intentions, or that they had decided to just plain ignore what Beckett was doing, but in response, I have this to say:

Firstly, if we are going to judge a piece of Theatre of the Absurd, then we must understand that the main drive behind this genre, is to have no rules, no boundaries, no set way of ‘doing theatre’ and ‘performance’. Secondly, If a fellow student, only weeks before turned a Restoration Theatre character from a bragging cad into a bitter and twisted old leach, where Restoration has performance styles and rules to follow, yet still find boastful praise from our tutor, then is it not double standards? I mean, if you can bend the rules with absurdity, when can you? And thirdly, it was with their huge energy (and resulting out-of-breathiness) in which they performed and general comfort with being off script that was where most of the wonder from us watching came from, that made me say what I said.

It was evident too, that they had taken time, outside of the class time allocated, in which to hone this piece. It was also a personal landmark I feel, for Conner, as this was the first time I had seen him act, like actually not be himself, or not stumble over reciting a script. It really was wonderful to see him make that extra effort. Megan too was a brilliant watch, pushing herself and working brilliantly with Conner.

The rest of us did make a marked push up the ladder too, but without their initial grab for the top rung, it could have been just any old class on a Tuesday morning!

MC A&P Devised Theatre 5

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:09:02 +0000

3-10-11

Matilda Performance.

It had been a whole week since Dan, Libby, Megan and I had come up with our ideas for the Matilda piece.

And today was when not only our group performed but so did all the others too.

As mentioned in the previous DT post, our piece focused on the negative side of the story. The negative morals that can be construed from the book. We also focused on the likelihood of Matilda being published had Miss Honey been a male teacher with Matilda been still a girl as well as if both had been males. It is a very fine line.

With all these ideas, it was through the lens of abuse and the abusive cycle of abused becoming abuser of someone else, which in turn, cycles on to another victim, and so on. As we read in the book, it was Trunchball, Miss Honey’s aunt who was the first abuser, which then in turn, made Miss Honey ‘abuse’ Matilda. We quoted directly from the book, abuse not only Miss Honey suffered at the hands of Trunchball as an aunt but the children too, who, first hand suffered, as Trunchball was Head Mistress as well.

MC A&P Core 5

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:08:48 +0000

30-09-11

Childhood memories of you bedroom.

It was tears in 2030 at 4 o’clock.

It was a seminal moment for me. I decided that until the timetable change mid November, I’m not going to commit 100% into these hypnotic rememories. It just isn’t good enough from a students’ point of view, to delve into their past, whether happy or otherwise, trawling up strong emotions, only to be left in tears then packed off for the weekend. With the only form of debrief coming as a random story of baby puking.

It just isn’t good enough that a timetable is devised by arbitrary considerations of room and tutor availability yet hardly any, if any, consideration into the contents of the classes themselves and how they relate to not only the students but also how the classes relate to each other.

For example, Core Acting is only a lunch break after Movement. Movement is a 2 workout most of the time- then the students get a dig by Gregor for being flat and non-enthused. But then, when Core acting involved some very heavy emotional searching and recalling- the students have to live with the emotional fallout for at least the weekend, or if a student waits for class time with Gregor again, it’s 7 whole days. Yes, a student can, can go and find Gregor Monday morning, that is if Gregor’s not teaching. But it’s at least two days away from fellow student contact. It just happens that my class is close and if anyone of us is feeling the aftershock of all this trawling about in their past, then we would make the effort to meet and debrief together. As yet, this hasn’t needed to happen for it’s own sake, but in meeting up socially, we have aired our concerns and feelings from some of this Core classes.

But for me, as a couple of others in my class, 100% commitment to emotional trawling, well that will have to wait until the class is moved to an emotionally more satisfactory time in the week.

I mean, the worst emotional hangover from a class was from a Friday to a Wednesday morning. Having been involved in the Wind in the Willows production outside of college, the Saturday and Sunday after a trawl, was packed with full run throughs and line learning. And if I wasn’t rehearsing, I was at college all day Monday followed in the evening with more rehearsals. Then Tuesday was performance day- which took up all of the day and evening and was emotional enough in itself. Followed by the mournful aftershow which celebrated the passing of a fantastic one off show. Then waking up on Wednesday, boom, I was wrecked. Drained. Not only from the commitment and time taken in putting on the show, as well as the show itself, but from never dealing with the fallout from Friday afternoon’s class. It is only in decussion with my wife, a professional clinical hypnotherapist, did we realise some of the reasons why my emotions where completely frayed from Wednesday onwards, with peace of mind only returning a fortnight later.

In hindsight, I was lucky on two counts, one, being emotionally more stable than an average teenager, two, having a therapist for a wife.

But these two factors are only apply to me. My classmates, bar three of them, are teenagers. With teenage life flying around them. And who else has a therapist living with them? Non of my classmates. If they had a lot of work on, with emotions running high from the last class of the week, then it’s down to luck that we see them Monday morning. And sometimes we don’t!

MC A&P Movement 5

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:08:15 +0000

30-09-11

Exam Paper Day!

Yep, got 100%.

Not that I’m bragging.

Well, a little bit, yeah.

MC A&P Theory and Practitioners 5

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:08:10 +0000

29-09-11

Brecht again!

MC A&P Text 5

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:07:59 +0000

27-09-11

Welcome to my theatre. Of the Absurd.

(say above line in the voice of Vincent Price)

Well, VP may have absolutely f all to do with TotA, TotA in theory, should be ok with VP and his vocal deliveries, as TotA has no rules, anything goes, there are no walls, no bounderies, no exclusions!

MC A&P Theory and Practitioners 4

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:07:30 +0000

22-09-11

This class time was turned over to the students. We used it to work on the Matilda Devised piece as well as honing the Reduced Shakespeare piece- as we were performing that to the sister class some time soon!

MC A&P Text 4

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:07:03 +0000

20-09-11

Performing a monologue from memory for the first time….

Nerves are contagious!

MC A&P Devised Theatre 4

oliverdawson — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 13:06:45 +0000

19 9 11

It was a return to the reduced versions of the various Shakespeare plays that we’d working on for a few weeks now.

The aim was to refine and according to Fran, reenergise our pieces.

This refining was to have been done in our own time between last Monday and the start of this class.

It was difficult for my group of four as one of us is away for 2 weeks.

So, as the other groups added last minute viv, the three of us discussed the next project- Roald Dahl and the book we had to read this week- Matilda.

In our brief chat, we observed a number of negative morals and

MC A&P Diary of a Hot Drink 3

oliverdawson — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 23:26:29 +0100

Right, final concluding piece, the third installment of a three part saga.

Who did shoot JR.

Was it all a dream.

Where did all the money go?

I am struck, actually, by a number of different thoughts. Some to do with Dallas, some to do with this tea drinking exercise. But mainly thoughts on the past week and the week ahead. Yet this isn’t ‘the diary of Oliver’s mind in the evening’, it’s about the tea. So thoughts not relating to tea and this cup of tea have to be set aside. For now.

Right, yes, same cup, same drink. Similar time of day with similar surroundings.

So, the tea is accompanied by a mullerrice, Vanilla custard flavour. I initially thought this was a stupid idea- rice pudding and custard. What, is that after I had mash potatoes served in a jacket potato? But it really works. Anyway, Milly Moo is licking the lid of it on the floor next to my desk, the sound of cat tongue on textured foil resting on carpet has an aural nicety about it. But vanilla custard? Isn’t that like saying, yellow custard- isn’t it a presumed fact, a given?

Oh, the tea. Yes, well think about it for a second. Leaves from plants in India. Milk from a cow- another species- from somewhere over there, elsewhere in Scotland. Sugar, refined in the UK but cane grow somewhere far away. Yes it’s a cliche to think of these things, but it really is an oddity. The strangest one I can think of is lemon juice on battered fish.

Do you think at any point in a cod’s mind, that the concept of a squeeze fruit from a tree goes so well with it’s own cooked flesh? While it’s swimming, while it’s doing what ever a cod does from day to day? Even if cod were the type of fish to jump out of the water now and then, do you think waving a whole lemon at it from a boat would really make a difference?

Then why do we, as humans, constantly wonder what is life? What is it all about?

Hmm, I think that was a hangover from the Theatre of the Absurd debate we had in Text Class a couple of days ago.

Anyway, my tea is of the drinkable temperate now. The lines of steam have dissipated. Under spotlight-like brightness, as a child, I first saw the small ‘dots’ that collectively made steam. I had recently been told of atoms and thus thought my eyesight was good enough to see atomic particles of gaseous di-hydrogen-monoxide (I’m presuming that’s what you’d call water- two hydrogen atoms to one oxygen?). I’ll google it in a sec. Oh, there was a dihydrogen-monoxide chemical bio-hazard hoax in the mid 90’s. http://www.dhmo.org

Anyway. The smell is the same. There is a lack of spider eyes today. The road is busy outside- I think Celtic where playing UEFA League Cup football tonight and Alexandra Parade clogs to the noise of supports cars in idle. No cheering. Maybe not such a good night for the bhoys then.

Spot light is on today, Gregor. The hum of the wifi signal moves my eardrums! The coolness of a September night is a relief from yesterday’s heat.

Anyway, sip, yep, tea. Gulp. gone.

Got to go to sleep, exam tomorrow plus I’ve got to print this!

MC A&P Diary of a Hot Drink 2

oliverdawson — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 13:56:41 +0100

It is a couple of hours earlier than the original time of day of the first DoaHD.

It’s a nice warm evening in quiet Dennistoun.

The spotlight on my desk is off as I’m finding bright light a bit much today. Ive just taken off my granddad cardi as the heat sink in the office is actually noticeable. I’m wearing a white t-shirt and blue-black pyjama trousers. I’ve only just come back from tesco Shettleson after getting cereal, milk and about 30 litres of regular unleaded for the Ka tomorrow. I thought it odd to frequent a superstore in nightwear but, fuck it, it’s the eastend, and as I presumed, I was far from the only one.

Right, yes, so task in hand, the DoaHD. So, I’m concentrating over the hum of the tumble-dryer, which is separated from me by a stud-partition wall, the whole of the kitchen and the tiny space of the ‘utility room’. Yet it might as well be directly behind my eyes. The drone. The click, drone, click of a zipped garment inside. The whir of the electric metre logging the cost of it all. And finally, the traffic outside- made up of the odd few cars on the parade and a few cars on the square moving off with no doubt slightly intoxicated drivers leaving the pub on the corner of the two mentioned roads. Oh, the dryer has changed the rotational direction of it’s drum. Click, click, fucking click. The zipper must be freer this way round to hit the metallic cylinder of the machine.

Right, the tea.

God, this is a chore. I really didn’t fancy a tea. Or even any other hot drink. It’s just too hot.

Milly has come it sit on my lap to see how this diary is getting on. Hmm she judges, it’s not exactly Dr Who is it.

Sarah, back from Iceland the day before is bidding me goodnight just now, with my tablets in hand.

Right, the quicker this gets done, the quicker I can join her in bed. We’ve got to both leave the house early tomorrow and I shattered already. And hot.

And grumpy.

Anyway. Same mug as last time. Well as far as I know, as I mentioned before, we have three identical union flagged mugs. All without flaw or uniqueness. Why I didn’t choose my Arsenal mug I’ll never know.

Shit, missed the game.

Oh well, I was at rehearsals anyway. Check the score after this.

So, yes, tea. Decaff tea. Decaffeinated PG Tips tea. With a touch of sugar. And a dabble of milk. Skimmed milk. Just bought in tescos, just half an hour ago.

The tea looks darker without the spotlight from above. Also the reflections and light arcs of the celling lights are more apparent too. A row of nine bubbles, two a couple of mil in diametre and the rest just over a mil cling to the line between mug wall and liquid tea. They look back at me like eyes of a wolf spider. I remove a few with a direct jet of air from my mouth. Four survive as the line waves up and down after my intervention of air.

I really can’t smell anything beyond the whiff of unleaded on my fuel pump holding hand. Even the sweetness of warm sugar struggles for attention, let alone the tea and the milk. Maybe I splashed it on my PJs too? There is a distant note of Millypeed, which accompanies the scraping of Moo’s hands on her litter. Moo does have hands, not four feet. The ability for the smell of cat pee to travel across a flat is second only to a cat’s number two’s ability. Moo returns to the sitting room to eat a couple of biscuits before bed. She’ll get there before me at this rate. In fact, she returns to my lap to give me the hurry up. And off to bed she goes.

The tea is cool enough for me to drink without sweating more than I am already. I’m telling you, with the office doors (not yet installed) closed, This would make a brilliant shelter when we all run out of gas for heating.

Any, so smell aside, I gulp a gulp into my mouth and hold. With my eyes closed, I swear there’s a hint of dishwasher tab to the lukewarm liquid. I add my tablets to the next gulp and as I swallow, the metallic taste of my eye drops lines the back of my throat and rear of my tongue. I get that a lot still using these higher viscositied drops since the eye surgery. The tea is positively wolfed down. An almost non experience after all.

In fairness to PG Tips, I’m more than distracted by internal thoughts of the events of the last week and thoughts of tomorrow.

Right, bed. Click to save.

MC A&P Diary of a Hot Drink 1

oliverdawson — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 00:38:22 +0100

It’s twenty to midnight on a mild Monday night.

I’m in my office. I have just taken a photo of the scene.

There is a quite hum from my desk’s spotlight and an almost inaudible whir from the mac. Although the computer’s speakers are not on, there is an added noise of static-like quality. Beyond the office space, there is the sound of the Moo helping herself to her box of biscuits near the bay window. On the otherside of the glass, I can hear the faint tyre noise of the seldom car on the main parade. Kennyhill Square itself is completely silent.

I have the bright spotlight illuminating my desk, which is covered in paper cuttings, a netbook and my headphones. Because the desk is sloped, I cannot rest my cup there. The rest of the office is lit by two celling lights and beyond the sitting room is dimly lit by a floor lamp and a small lamp on a cabinet. Both rooms are still as Moo settles down in a corner of one of the sofas.

It is a peaceful moment.

My cup is one of three union flagged mugs we have. I blue of the flag is made up of a flowery pattern, I think it’s meant to resemble a cloth-like pattern. The red is made up of a dotted effect- almost a pixelled quality. Both red and blue are raised off the white of the mug itself. The mug is tesco bought and was 2 for £2.50. I think we’ve had it for at least six months. And the pattern has not faded in the dishwasher. There are on unique features to differentiate this mug from it’s two other brothers. Although, at this moment, this mug is very warm to hold, where as the others, I imagine, are in the cupboard, cold.

Inside this union flagged mug is a decaffeinated PG Tips made tea. I added half a teaspoon of white granulated sugar- Tate and Lyle. And there is skimmed milk to complete the drink- making the liquid the shade of my forearms after our holiday to Malta.

The smell of my tea is almost nonexistent. In fact, when I concentrate, I start to smell my own Eau de Toilette from my wrist, faded since a few hours ago, when I put it on. It is 212 by Carolina Ferrera. I would like to say I could smell more, but in truth, my sense of smell weak and on a daily basis, hardly pay it any attention in describing the world around me.

The mug is still very warm as it meets my lips. With my eyes closed, I take my first sip. As the liquid passes over my tongue, I realise how much of the taste is both milk and sugar, with the tea itself a distant third. I take a large mouthful, holding it around my tongue. Swallowing the tea, I notice a drying affect on the back of my teeth. There is a strange aftertaste- the milk seems to linger beyond the sweetness of the sugar and the herbiness of the tea. For a skimmed milk, I notice it is creamier than normal. I noticed this with my cereal this morning (cough) afternoon. The decaffeinated tea likes the force of normal tea, which in itself is not the most brutally strong favour. But, the decaffeinated version has not cut in comparison. It is, as mentioned before, overpower by the milk and sugar, with were used sparingly in the drinks preparation. In all honestly, I do not really like decaffeinated tea but due to the lateness of the hour, it is necessary. The drink has cooled, both the time of typing and the first few slurps have taken the energy out of it. It now has become a sugary milk drink of tepid temperature as the element of tea although is exists in colour, does not in both aroma or taste. I inhale the remains of it in one. The milkiness is now creating a film like layer all over all the surfaces in my mouth. Yet even that passes before I finish the sentence describing it.

With the task over, I take another moment to survey my environment.

A car goes passed, the lights from behind blinds and curtains of the tenement windows on the opposite side of the square can be seen. As too the reflection of my floor lamp. A clicking of a clock adds to the hum of the mac- with the odd electric noise of the hard drive filing, sorting. Another car, it slows for the traffic lights I presume. The road surface sounds wet now.

To do list

oliverdawson — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 11:35:56 +0100

•Spell check all posts and iron out typos (of which there are many)

••List ‘moments of truth’ from the various classes we’ve had so far

•••Learn lines for tomorrow! And document the feeling of disappointment

••••Sort out physical folder/ringbinder, maybe replace