In My Room at Fringe Arts Bath, June, 2018.

What a lovely time…

This was a pop-up performance in a very fine, fine art exhibition at Fringe Arts Bath.  There was a small audience for both nights in this second floor exhibition room but the response form those that watched it was wonderful – audience members wanted to have conversations with me afterwards: one commented on the ‘immersive’ nature  of my work, one commented that they drew parallels between my narratives, and actions,  and the visual art work that surrounded me, one member was moved to cry.  The audience were kind and Bath is a lovely place, I was honoured to be part of the Doorways exhibition, the work was of a very high standard, varied and very thought-provoking.

In My Room performance:

Excerpt 1: An anecdote about appreciating orange juice / a fitting role borrowed from Harold and Maude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgaoLg4G01I

Excerpt 2: Bringing it all to an end following different presentations (semi-improvised)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVX1X0h0X_Y

In My Room Script:

Excerpt 1

[Change persona]

Speaks directly to the audience. Indicates clearing his ears.

Referring to the song. I’m sorry about that; she did feel compelled to bind her eyes at one point, so that she couldn’t see the audience, because she was weakened by them. This suggests cruelty on the part of the audience, but it gives you a purpose.

However, on the absence of sight, and the absence of an audience – one sense down, the voice is stunted because she has no indication of how to modify herself. She needs the people here in this room.

However, instead, the performer sits in stillness, takes tea (bends to pick up cup and saucer below chair) and begins an anecdote, attempting to deliver it only as was previously accepted by others.

Sits up and coughs in readiness…

Okay so, this man, this friend of mine, this tall and gracious man, who I once heard being referred to as a louse, took tea with me (looks to watch) this time Thursday last. He surprisingly indicated to me that he had at that moment (places cup and saucer down) at 39 years of age, realised he had the freewill to buy a carton of fresh orange juice, to call it his own, and to enjoy it, without any complications or interruptions. Upon hearing this I observed a look of complete contentment at, not just what could be easily achieved – the orange juice – but also contentment for being in the space he was in, when he was talking about this, and then referring to another space, and no complications or interruptions.

I enjoyed my own response, upon which I reflected afterwards, which was one of joy, both to realise that I could do the same thing – with the orange juice – but also that the person I was speaking to went up in my estimations. Pause. I liked him and accepted him for this. I like myself for this, as oppose to pointing out the bleeding obvious that orange juice is readily available and has been affordable to him for the past, mm, twenty years. And usually “isn’t the grass greener on the other side.”

Turns.

[Change persona].

Addressing the empty chair

Isn’t it?

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