Showing posts with label Justin Cliffe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justin Cliffe. Show all posts

Sunday, 14 December 2014

Day 7 - Bulgaria - Sofia - International Art Forum


I always harbour this romantic idea that I will be the kind of travelling-man who keeps a profound, inspired and insightful journal full of interesting thoughts and feelings about being in a new and wonderful place.

It never works out.

I think that can only be a good thing. It proves I have had such little time to sit with nothing else to do. It's not that I didn't want to write a blog everyday, or most days I was here, I just didn't really get the chance.

Sofia is an incredible place. It's always alive and there is always fun, excitement and parties to be had. Alcohol is cheap, food is amazing, the sights and sounds of it are on one hand big bold and beautiful, and on the other decaying with old buildings like relics of a communist past. The streets are foggy, the weather causes every single breath of air to form ghostly mists that seep out when you breath.

Before I get to poetical and wanky I'll try to explain what we've been doing.

This week theatre makers from all kinds of different places (From Iran to Russia, just to offer some kind of spectrum) gathered in Sofia at Alma Alter's theatre space attached to Sofia University, to present their work. Experimental and Alternative were words thrown around for explaining what "type" this work was.

We presented Bottled, a piece that started life in the hands of Tracy Harris, Matt Ball and Greg Wohead almost two years ago. Performing it in Sofia was an amazing experience.

I could talk about all the amazing work I've seen and been blown away by, Polish dancers who's determination and gusto took everyone away, without undermining the beautiful work they made. I could talk about the Russians, who took Tennessee Williams' the Glass Menagerie and put it in a blender of eccentricity, movement and circus. But it maybe wouldn't mean a lot to anyone reading.

What I would like to talk about is the University, the students, Alma Alter, their theatre and the impact it feels like it has on Sofia. The way Alma Alta work is bold and brave and wonderful. It's inclusive, one of the first things they said was "When making theatre, there is no wrong and no right, there is my way and your way, my theatre and your theatre", and from here on in everyone knew they would not be judged or criticised but that all thoughts and feelings expressed about their work would be constructive and just someones opinion. The students who work with Alma Alter are in the more than capable hands of Nicoli (who knew Jerzy Grotowski personally, any Performing Arts Students should get a kick out of that) and Petia, they work on new, exciting and groundbreaking methods of theatre approach.

Th students live in the moment, they commit to everything and most importantly of all they smile. AAAALL THE TIME! They're incredibly happy. Some of them are studying Law and Geography or other subjects, yet they find themselves participating in performance making as an extra, and even though they're not studying performance art, they are welcomed into the fold and feel as part of the theatre as anyone else, and that's the thing. They feel like they own a piece of it. They care about it. They take risks and are rewarded. It's like no other educational establishment I've ever worked in.

Anyway, I've got to board a flight...

Mucho

Monday, 8 December 2014

Day 1/2 - Bulgaria - Sofia - International Art Forum


 Right now I'm slightly tired, shell shocked and perplexed to find myself sat in a hotel room in Sofia ahead of a week of talks, performances and meetings with international artists for International Art Forum, Sofia.

 It all came out of Bottled, a performance-like-something that Tracy Harris, Matt Ball and myself put together in October for Experimentica at Chapter Arts. Paul (Tracy's significant other) was the link, and when I told people I was coming, no one quite believed I could be lucky enough to have bagged another free international excursion, so much so I'm sure some of my friends don't believe I'm actually here, but I am.

 Having just landed in Sofia after a three hour flight from Luton, we've arrived at our hotel, The Ganesh Hotel. It's strange. Stuck, slightly, in the 80's it has a dark-oak, thick carpet romance to it. The building it's self is situated in some suburb somewhere in Sofia, where exactly I'm completely unsure as it's 1am here and we arrived in darkness. Picked up by an enthusiastic theatre student; Marco (who I'm sure I will be writing about consistently in these blogs), his boundless enthusiasm, excitement and energy seems to have fed of what remaining energy Paul, Tracy and I had left. Although he left us with our enthusiasm and excitement.

 The hotel is still. It's scent is that of "old-man" cologne mixed with thick, stale cigarettes, and it bombards your nostrils and paints an image of burly business men walking around the dim rooms in well worn underpants after a day of selling sponges. The elevator, barely big enough to fit two people inside, has it's own persona and it speaks in hum's and whirs and squeaks, like something out of a Stanley Kubrick film. The door shuts violently before you've had a chance to get fully out, like it's lonely and wants to keep you inside it for company.

 Outside on the street a few cars trickle by and seem to slow down, curious of what might be going on inside this old hotel. I can hear the voices of the people in the room next door, and they sound like they're planning something. Nothing sinister, maybe just planning a trip to get more cigarettes, or ask the stoney old Bulgarian dude on reception where they can pick up booze at this time of night.

 This morning I woke up in Cardiff, packed a bag and placed all my trust in Trace and Paul. From Cardiff to Luton to Sofia they haven't let me down. Paul may as well be a Bulgarian citizen, he's been here so many times, even lived here a short while, he's taught us some choice phrases and so far we've laughed and talked about all kinds of stuff. Mainly we've asked one another hypothetical questions about the week ahead: "What do you think the other shows will be like?" "What other countries do you think will be here?" "How on earth did this happen?". It's incredible, really.

 Sad to say Matt couldn't join us, and the performance we will be presenting is something like a version of the something we did at Chapter for Experimentica, what that version is we're really unsure, but it's (to quote Marco) "Fucking exciting" all the same.

I'll keep you posed.

Mucho,

Justin


Friday, 20 June 2014

Scratch That Itch at The Sherman - 20/06/14


Last night I attended (and performed at) Scratch That Itch at The Sherman Theatre, Cardiff.

I was just about to turn Scratch That Itch into an acronym to save myself some valuable typing-time, but I've decided against writing a blog regularly features the acronym STI, as I fear it might lead to a really itchy and bitterly disappointed readership…

So anyway...


Scratch That Itch is an awesomely wild-eyed, open platform, scratch night created, curated and hosted by Brent Morgan (@dextartuk) with support from National Theatre Wales Team (@NTWtweets #NTWTeam), and Sherman Cymru (@ShermanCymru), in Cardiff.

Last night acts from all over the world offered up a host of works in progress, from solo performers to writers, poets to acting troupes, MC's to story tellers and more, and it was amazing to see so many people willing to share their underprepared work with an audience.

Walking in you spot this small and unassuming stage and then the bar area buzzing with people and food laid out feast-like all accompanied by some happy-tunes pumping through the stereo. The atmosphere is warm as the audience gathers, glasses clink and conversations about all things live start going on.

Brent
On a table near the bar is a jar of pens and a collection of hand made books with each artists name on; it's the feedback hub. Brent explains that the audience aren't getting to view the work for free, in return they should offer feedback to the people presenting work, either via these tiny books, or a conversation.

Brent is awesome with his audience and his acts, he doesn't patronise, he doesn't pretend and he doesn't claim to know much of anything, he just guides us through the night until everything has been said, done and spoken about.

      
An old lady dies in a caravan.  


Hi-Tech Refuge-Umbrella.
Spoken word from Zimbabwe.
I went on last and performed a snippet from a larger idea for a project I have been working on called TigerFace.

Since I was young and wanting to be involved in theatre I was "trained" primarily, as an actor so my presence on stage would be typically defined by the words in the script.

When I went to university I began to study, learn and love the processes of devising theatre, this lead me into new performance realms where I could play with the physical and verbal, where words still existed but where they could be loose and almost instantly changeable.

TigerFace is an experiment in form really, and when I started it was entirely different to what it is now. Since it's first showing at The Forge at Chapter Arts (you can read my year old blog entry on the Tin Shed Theatre Co blog page HERE) it has really grown and become something that is about risks we can take in a live environment, it's about the audience and the immediacy of what of whats happening and how that can change almost instantly.

TigerFace
To be honest TigerFace has become a bit like meditation. Trailing these underrehearsed, half formed ideas in front of a live audience, accepting that most of the time I'm not fully aware what will happen, allowing the power of it to shift between me and the audience. It's a tiny pocket of chaos that brims and builds and sometimes crashes.

A short video of an early TigerFace outing...

Having Scratched this character/idea three times now, last nights sharing allowed me to explore more ideas and receive some really helpful feed back.

For any artists, theatre makers, writers, poets, wordsworths, dancers and any other live performance doers who have a seed of something, I'd highly recommend you getting in touch with Brent and asking for a slot before they all fill up.

Viva La Scratch

Mucho

Justin

Thursday, 8 May 2014

My Blog - A Blog in Brief


Hello!

Welcome.

Yes.

There you are.

And I'm here to…

Sort of.

Sorry, let's start again.

Hello!

Again.

This is my Blog.

It's here.

Right in front of you.

I hope you weren't expecting much.

It's a pretty newtish blog thus far.

Sorry.

I'm holding you back from the actual reading of this blog, aren't I.

Don't worry, all questions will be rhetorical, otherwise things would get weird.

Because I'm not actually here right now, you know.

(Again, rhetorical)

I just wanted you to know that.

I probably wrote this ages ago.

Even though I'm writing it right now.

But I'm assuming that you're reading it in the future.

And I think it's a safe assumption…

So…

Blog.

Whoo!

Alright!

Bloggy, bloggy, blog, blog, blog.

*Cough.

Sorry.

Just had to clear my throat.

Cool…

Yep….

Dum, dum, dum-dum...

It would be kind of weird if you were reading this in the past though wouldn't it. It wouldn't even be written and you'd be reading it.

Like time travel.

Paradox.

Stuff like that.

Oh, no way…

Shit!

I just remembered, I've got this thing at that place of mine that's going to get all if it's not done soon and that'd be a nightmare...

So, I'm going to have to…

Yeah…

I'm going to have to go.

I'll, see you soon though, yeah?

Don't worry.

That can be rhetorical too.