Showing posts with label ERIN SHIELDS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ERIN SHIELDS. Show all posts

SUMMERWORKS: The Epic of Gilgamesh (up until the part when Enkidu dies), Review by Katherine Sanders


The Epic of Gilgamesh (up until the part when Enkidu dies)

Written by Erin Shields

Directed by Gideon Arthurs

Presented by Groundwater Productions


Featuring Frank Cox-O'Connell, Carlos Gonzalez-Vio, Ieva Lucs, Richard Lee, Lindsey Clark, and Lisa Karen Cox


Presented at Theatre Passe Muraille Mainspace


Playing:

Thursday August 13 6:30pm
Saturday August 15 12:30pm
Sunday August 16 8:30pm

I know nothing about the story of Gilgamesh. It’s one of those pieces of literature like Beowulf that I recognize as being important, but have never taken the time to read myself. So I had no idea what to expect from this show, except for being somewhat familiar with the work of Erin Shields, Gideon Arthurs, and Frank Cox-O’Connell. I have to say that I was part of a privileged audience that saw this show under the coolest circumstances possible. Waiting to enter the theatre in a line-up that wrapped around the corner of the Theatre Passe Muraille building, while to the south the last of the days light was filling the sky. To the north, as we rounded the corner and entered the theatre, was the most ominous black cloud I’ve ever seen. We got inside just before the rain came, and then were treated to a performance of this play as it was meant to be seen – with a raging thunderstorm pounding the ceiling above us. Some of Gilgamesh’s lines were underscored by massive thunder-cracks. It was intense.

Thankfully, this is a production that holds its own against a raging storm. The design is simple, effective eye candy. The representation of the demon Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven are two examples where the designers (especially Lindsay Anne Black on costumes and set) did a lot with a little. The sound design, (this night collaborating with the sound of rain and thunder), was effective and unobtrusive. The lighting also made use of some basic but on-target techniques, such as headlamps for the chorus.

It’s appropriate that this show was presented at Theatre Passe Muraille, the birthplace of Toronto’s collective creation movement in the 70’s. The style of this piece very much reminded me of those times, even though I didn’t live through them. Although this is not a collective creation, the script is skillfully crafted by Erin Shields to resemble a play of the people, by the people, for the people. The use of Greek-style chorus and the eclectic updates in vocabulary and cultural references (at one point the characters share a bucket of KFC), combine to make this an earthy post-modern adaptation of an ancient text. A related side note: Paul Thompson, the founder of TPM, was in the audience the night I saw it, and I happened to notice him guffaw heartily at the line, “The Bull of Heaven is not a toy!”

Gideon Arthurs’ attentive direction keeps the action constantly roving around the space, and the pace urging forwards like a heartbeat. The performances are all of the calibre you would expect from such accomplished actors, whose commitment and energy drive the piece forward relentlessly towards its inevitable conclusion. The title spoiler, “(up until the part when Enkidu dies)” provides a framework for the audience to grasp the significance of the unfolding events, so that the play’s ending is timely and satisfying.

A masterfully crafted piece of theatre all around.
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SUMMERWORKS: Interview with Maev Beaty by Chris Dupuis

Chris: Although the show is set in the 1920’s there’s something timeless about the way it addresses the experience of the artist—namely wanting to do something that you’re passionate about but not having enough time to dedicate to it because you’re working so hard to make ends meet. Can you talk a bit about your own experiences of this and how (and if) you manage to balance the two?

Maev: Luck, persevering, a generous and patient family and friends. Waitressing, getting better at writing grants, selling CD's. Diversifying talents, letting the house be messy, courage, discipline, and trying to put aside money when it's feast so that you can survive the famine.

Chris: Have you ever been an artist model before? Why did you decide to do it? or Why have you never done it?

Maev: I have not yet modelled nude, no. I think the honest reason is a combination of never having needed to (it was not a job option I explored) and being too shy/self-conscious. But I would definitely definitely consider it now. In fact, I think it's crucial for us to do at least one session before we do this play again. We have had some wonderful feedback and research from friends/colleagues who have modelled, and have incorporated their insights into the script. I have gone to several life drawing classes, which has proven to be invaluable for playing Amelia - the artist of our protagonists. I was surprised by many things: that I had a visceral, blushing, reaction to the nudity at the beginning but that it disappeared immediately and permanently, that I soon began to see the model as line and shadow and tiny little pieces and then finally I looked at my page and thought "Oh my god! there's a naked lady on my paper!" I had a deep respect for the models and their professionalism, grace and stamina.

Chris: In some of the press material the show is described as “erotic”. What does that mean, exactly? Are you expecting/encouraging people to be turned on by the work?

Maev: Short answer? Yes.

Longer answer? We are looking at the tensions/complexities of this unique profession. At this time in history - Paris was an unbelievably sexually open place. Almost freer than any place we can think of today. There was a restaurant where you could get an omelette cooked to order and then eat it off a naked woman's stomach. Not a seedy, backroom club. A restaurant, like Susur. Orgies, threesomes, trading partners, artist's balls with hundreds of naked revellers out on the streets. It was also a mecca for queer culture. For gay men certainly, but apparently it was a uniquely vibrant milieu for lesbians. A safe place.

The art model was a women who was neither wife, nor prostitute, nor showgirl, whose job it was to take her clothes off in front of men. Sometimes it was just a job, sometimes it became a romantic relationship, or led to consensual sex, sometimes it was a famous Muse/Artist team, sometimes it led to harassment and rape. One of our profound inspirations is Anais Nin's erotic accounts of art models in Delta of Venus. Have you read them? HOT.

We're playing with/looking at nakedness vs sexiness vs aesthetic artiness vs seduction vs nudity. In one scene of seduction I am fully clothed, another scene about boredom and the frustration of a "Joe-job" I am completely naked.

There have been times in the greatest galleries of the world (Tate, Louvre) where I have stood in a room with many people looking very serious and academically at a whole bunch of naked women and it makes me laugh. Yes, the paintings are gorgeous, important, glorious - but are we all pretending it's fruit-bowls and landscapes? There are naked women everywhere! Bushes! Boobs! It's wonderful. But who are these women? Their names? We, and thousands of others, can call her naked body to mind in a Modigliani or a Picasso, but few know her name.

Chris: As I was reading the script I kept thinking about the poster campaign created by the Guerilla Girls art collective in 1989 that addressed the Metropolitan Museum’s simultaneous over-representation of female nudes and under-representation of female artists. Let’s talk about the experience of being a female artist in the world today. What has improved and what concerns still need to be addressed?

Maev: It's funny you mention that Chris, because someone brought in one of those postcards to show us while we were workshopping at Tarragon. (I think it was Waneta Storms?) It was definitely an inspiration for Amelia's journey. I was at the AGO last week with my mother and had a particular eye to the representation of the woman artist. There is one room in particular on the first floor that is themed around 'women as muse, model and artist'. I really wanted to leave a couple of postcards for our show in there, but my mom wouldn't let me. I would be lying if I said I have done enough research about the contemporary plight of the woman artist. But I have noticed an effort made in my travels to Paris, London and here too. My mother and I had an interesting talk, in fact. There is a room at the AGO dedicated to "feminism in art". It's a small room with some really neat work in it. There are several pieces that are obviously addressing issues to do with being a woman specifically. But there are also a few that, as my mother pointed out, deal with violence and war in a non-gendered context. Why, she asked, are these pieces in a room about feminism? They are political, yes, but universal and perhaps should be in a room where they are seen in a universal context (ha - I just realized I said they are universal but they both use text - in English - to get their point across. So how universal is that? Not very). So - this makes me ask - are female artists still being seen as "female" artists? With their own rooms and subject heading? I don't know. But speaking of female artists - there is an really fabulous exhibition at the AGO right now that everyone should go enjoy:


Sarah Anne Johnson: House on Fire


and

Angelika Hoerle: The Comet of Cologne Dada

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Montparnasse

Written by Maev Beaty and Erin Shields

Director/Dramaturg: Andrea Donaldson
Presented by Sheep No Wool Theatre Company

Featuring: Maev Beaty, Erin Shields

Presented at Theatre Passe Muraille, Mainspace,

Playing:

August 6th 10:30pm
August 8th 6:30pm
August 9th 4:30pm
August 12th 8:30pm
August 14th 6:30pm
August 16th 2:30pm
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FRINGE TORONTO: Red Machine-Part One, Review by Evan Webber

Red Machine

Written by Brendan Gall, Michael Rubenfeld, and Erin Shields
Directed by Chris Hanratty, Geoffrey Pounsett, and Christopher Stanton
Presented by The Room

Featuring James Cade, John Gilbert, Paula Jean-Prudat, and Tova Smith

Presented at the Lower Ossington Theatre, 100 Ossington Avenue

Playing:

Sunday July 12th 7:00pm

Notes of brave intentionality rescue this uneven, first performance by hydra-headed theatre company, The Room. The work’s collaborative origins are pushed to the foreground as the monumentally clichéd story of the-writer-alone-in-his-room gets dynamited as if by flaming-haired, cartoon miners. It's pretty slick, but the slickness sometimes masks a lack of substance, and the mashed-up, David Lynch-y text struggles against the strengths of the performers.

I saw this work with a group of friends who all hated it, and while I often sighed in sympathy with them, I was heartened by the moments of honesty in this attempt. At heart this is a simple story about art and the questions one has creating art, told in a way that's both internally resonant and humourously self-effacing. In itself this is nothing new, but the way that the company’s unmistakable commitment to this story gets blocked and obfuscated by the pressures of the cliché itself certainly says something pointed about the way our brains make sense of the things we see. And the plays succeeds in reanimating a conventional style by playing the drama of the story's own limitations.

Red Machine would benefit from a period of serious reflection and sharpening, but it’s good to see The Fringe used not just as a factory farm for stand-up and musicals; it may also be a place to experiment and it’s exciting to watch early ideas take shape. Hopefully, Part One refers to an incomplete process. Red Machine (and the people who watch it) will be rewarded when the creators apply the energy of their craftsmanship to the clarity of conception. Here’s hoping.
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Jacob Zimmer is Talking to Chris Dupuis

I caught up with Small Wooden Shoe Artist Director Jacob Zimmer to chat about Dedicated to the Revolutions, a show he's been working on for over three years which opens at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre this week.

Dedicated to the Revolutions plays March 31st through April 12, 2009 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre

Produced by Small Wooden Shoe with the assistance of One Yellow Rabbit's High Performance Rodeo and in association with Buddies in Bad Times Theatre.

Box Office 416-975-8555
Tickets PWYC - $25 :: Youth / Student tickets $15
Buddies In Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander Street, Toronto
artsexy.ca
smallwoodenshoe.org

Dedicated to the Revolutions is created by: Frank Cox-O'Connell, Chad Dembski, Ame Henderson, Erika Hennebury, Gillian Lewis, Aimée Dawn Robinson, Trevor Schwellnus, Erin Shields, Evan Webber and Jacob Zimmer


You've been working on this project for over three years now and it's finally coming to fruition. What does this feel like?

Great. Scary.

It’s interesting how things have changed over the three years, both in terms of our taste and interests and the exposure and profile of the work.

But the long development time seems mostly right – there were some gaps that were a bit long and some that were too short – but I think it’s important for me to have a lot of time and a lot of breaks for thinking. Most rehearsal processes don’t have much time for reflection and I think that might be a problem - or at least it would be for me.


There have been a fairly large number of collaborators on this project through its different stages. How do you decide on who to collaborate with and what makes a good collaborator in your mind?

Everyone in this process were people I first saw in other work and then met with and talked. They are all people who make their own work, which is very important for me. And then it’s a matter of creating an interesting and productive rehearsal hall that I believe will lead to an interesting and productive performance.

In terms of what makes a good collaborator - I think generosity and curiosity are vital. It’s a generosity to listen and follow as well as lead and propose - to be able to understand what’s happening and how to contribute to that. Patience and understanding are also very important.

I’ve been absolutely blessed on this project to work with many of my favorite artists in the city who have brought so much to the work.


I'm curious to know in particular about your relationship with your collaborator Trevor Schwellnus; specifically because designers are often the ones who have the least collaborative relationship to a traditional process. Can you talk about how you work together and what your particular process of design is?

The shows take a huge jump once we’re in the world that Trevor creates. They a beautiful and idiosyncratic and perfect for the work.

I trust Trev so much, and he makes proposals for the work in such a great way that we’ve ended up with a pretty unique process. It’s one I’m having a hard time describing. He’s in the room pretty early and has been involved in every show so we can get to the heart of things pretty quickly. We talk about big ideas and overall aesthetic values early and then once we’re in the theatre things just come to life under his eye.

He also brings a lot of thought and contribution to what we do on stage and is often our go to for a “bullshit meter” in terms of science and tech.

And he does amazing things with rope. Other people like tape, he goes with rope.


Some critics (who shall remain nameless) have described your work as "Post Modern". Do you see what you do as part of the Post Modern Period? Why or why not?

I get it, even if I disagree a bit and quibble about the typesetting (“postmodern” v. “post-modern” v. “post modern”.)

The postmodern turn in artistic and intellectual pursuits was vital. Deconstruction, poststructuralism, Critical Theory, and relational theories have been very important to me (and I think the to world.) So I am certainly a child of it.

That being said, I think this work in particular is an attempt to get past some of my issues with the hard lines and to generate proposals and engagement instead of only critique and pulling apart.

Aesthetically I get it too - though again, I think we want to move past some of the trappings (traps.) We avoid irony (we mean what we say, we also mean other things) and think about clarity, humour and pleasure for the audience a bit more then comes to mind with “postmodern theatre.” But again, I have a history with and deep influence from that tradition.


While were on the subject of critics, I've read some writings about your work that, while positive make me feel like the critic "just doesn't get it". What guidelines would you give people writing about your work to understand and talk about it?

I don’t think I can give guidelines. Part of what is nice about Dedicated to the Revolutions is that there are many levels to take the show, different ways to “get it”.

It’s true that some reviews (which are often so short and written so quickly after the show) focus on the humour and songs, and I’m ok with that - or at least I’d rather that then the “you won’t enjoy it, but it’s good for you” reviews. Reviews in this day and age are pointers rather than deep commentary. I’m happy if people show up and have to make up their own minds.

And I think there certainly is a role and a desire for deep commentary - but that requires space and reflection that I don’t feel the print reviewers have - and may mean that that kind of work happens after the show closes.

Maybe the only guideline is to think “What if they meant all of that?”


Song are a very important part of your performances, which is also a commonality in other artists working in a similar style like STO Union. What do you think song brings to the work?

They hold some of the emotional content and some of the humour. They are a different way of thinking through and talking about the issues of the show. And we like singing them and people respond to them – music is nice.


What do you think the 8th Revolution will be? Any sense when it's on the horizon? Is it already happening?

Maybe? Quantum and Nano and Bio tech all seem like “next things” - but I think it’s really hard to predict what will effect our lives and when. These revolutions often took decades to be noticed on a everyday scale.
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