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Space/Time 2017: Re-boot and flourish

From 7 June five artists will embark on a creative retreat we call Space/Time in Dumfries and Galloway. Their mission? To nourish their creativity. Three of the selected artists have written about how they hope Space/Time will allow them to re-boot and flourish:

Ian Spink

TheWorkRoomPortrait02

I’ve been a participant in a couple of Rough Mix workshops in the past, but this is my first time with Space/Time. I’m looking forward to it.  I think the act of getting away from the everyday routines for a while, and being able to have the luxury of focussing on why or how we make things, with a small group who create different kinds of things...leading hopefully to revealing how we might or indeed may have, found ways to nurture and sustain that spirit.

I’ve worked in dance for a large part of my life, but from the moment I extracted myself from the world of ballet (a very long time ago) I’ve been interested in a post-modern mixture of devised forms: happening, theatre, performance, installation, film, live art. Over recent years I’ve derived satisfaction from co-creating events which make use of video, sound, found objects and locations. I like to work with actors, musicians, singers, visual artists, dancers and fearless people. I’m currently interested in exploring the areas where possibly random events coalesce and become a performance. I think maybe this relates to the creative process of putting things together to make some art.

Which piece of work do you feel most proud of?
I think sometimes the most painful pieces (the process of making them) in retrospect, but usually where people are inspired and collaborate . Often I can only fully recognise what I was making when it’s all over.

Who do you most admire in life?
In people: an ability to see positive things and be generous. In general: the fact that the world we inhabit contains so much detail, complexity and magic.

Out of date bits of me or my work can be found in various places: www.airfieldarts.org.uk
 http://theworkroom.org.uk/people/ian_spink

 

 Kirstie Cohen

Northern Sea k.cohen

I have been working from my rural purpose-built studio near Inverness for the last 25 years. I studied Drawing and Painting at the Glasgow School of Art from 1983-87, completing at Post-Graduate level in 1988.

I started to develop landscape in my work, holding my first solo show in London in 1990. I have subsequently had many solo and mixed exhibitions nationwide.

I was partly brought up in East Lothian, where the expansive skies and coastal features were a huge influence, and presently in the varied and diverse landscape of the Highlands.

My work is a fusion between a traditional approach and an integration of abstract elements, both very important aspects for me, contributing to the development of the composition, and the final dynamic of the painting

I came upon the Space/Time opportunity completely by chance. At the time it seemed like a gift. The creative problems I faced were overwhelming, and this was a wonderful opportunity to re-boot, and maybe hear from other artists on how they are able to sustain their practice and overcome their own difficulties and continue to flourish.

 Sophie Bancroft

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A poem first, and then some prose:

 
SPACE AND TIME
Space and time to breathe
And leave the daily distractions held so dear,
That fill my heart
And anchor my bones
Yet constrain a creative soul,
That tugs and jostles at its moorings,
Asking to be cast free
To sail and soar
An unfettered path,
Uncluttered and clear.
 
As the retreat approaches I hope for space and time for reflection and creation. I hope to be inspired,  influenced and expanded through hearing my retreat colleagues journeys, thoughts and creative ways, and watching them use their space and time whilst I use mine. Growth through osmosis.

I wrote songs and poems as a young child. I grew up in a jazz and medical family, and became a professional jazz singer from 17, which I continued throughout my psychology degree at Edinburgh University. On graduating I became a full-time musician. After several years of singing jazz standards I became disillusioned with the lyrics and started writing my own songs for my professional career. Now three decades later I am partially disillusioned with song as the only medium for my creative expression and am bringing poetry and spoken word back in to my life. I have been accepted on a creative writing masters degree starting in September 2017 - exhilirating and terrifying!

The work I am most proud of is not my highest professional achievement but more personal - my series of greeting cards which include my landscape photography from walks that have inspired some of my songs. The back of the card features a song lyric in poem form and a QR code to listen to that song. 

Professionally I most admire three music colleagues and dear friends of mine, Fionna Duncan, Liane Carroll and Sara Colman, personally - my mum Judy Greenwood and my daughter Lisa Bancroft and creatively Joni Mitchell for her voice,  her guitar playing, her lyrics, music and paintings.
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Our Fathers April 2017 development week

We’ve just finished our final development week on Our Fathers before we start rehearsals in mid-September. Our Fathers is a collaboration between me and playwright/performer Rob Drummond, based on Edmund Gosse’s 1907 memoir Father and Son and its connections to our own lives as the sons of clergymen. As I wrote in my last blog on the production’s development (Making ‘Our Fathers’), we’ve also begun to explore the modern connotations of the book to see what it has to tell us today about how people with opposing views might talk to each other more respectfully.

 

We were fortunate to be working in Traverse 1, which is where we’ll open the production in October. This meant we could get a sense of how we might talk to the audience – an important element of the show – and how we might use the space. Ian Cameron (who is co-directing with me) and Jenna Watt (assistant director) were with us all week and we were joined at various points by other members of the creative team: composer Scott Twynholm, designer Karen Tennant, lighting designer Simon Wilkinson and voice director Ros Steen.

Our aim for the week was to establish the structure and ‘voice’ of the production. Rob and I are collaborating with each other for the first time and, to make things harder for ourselves, are working in a way that is new to both of us, though it’s a method that incorporates elements of our individual practices. Rather than writing a complete script for rehearsals, we are creating what Rob calls a script-ment, which is somewhere between a treatment and a script. A treatment is a stage of screen writing which describes in some detail what will happen and usually comes at the stage before a full script is written. In our case, the script-ment will combine dialogue for some scenes with outlines of action for others – the dialogue is for scenes adapted from the book, while the outlines are for the semi-improvised scenes of discussion between me and Rob. Ah yes, perhaps I should have mentioned that before: Rob and I are performing in the production. We play Edmund and Philip Gosse and versions of ourselves, exploring our relationships with our fathers – and our own sons – and talking to the audience about their own experiences of faith and disagreement. Rob has frequently performed in his own work, most recently In:Fidelity at the High Tide and Edinburgh festivals last year. I’m a more infrequent performer, but also performed at last year’s Edinburgh fringe – a semi-improvised movement piece with In the Making. What connects us is that we both trained with Anne Bogart.

 

As I’ll be performing and as the subject matter is quite personal, I decided that I wanted to work with a co-director who could be an outside eye and would bring some objectivity to the process. Ian Cameron has worked on many hugely successful shows like White, Black Beauty and The Voice Thief and has a fantastic eye for what happens on stage, partly because of his background in both visual art and clowning. As anyone who has seen him perform knows, he has a wonderfully reassuring presence on stage, and he brings this quality to the rehearsal room as well. 

During the week, we worked on different aspects of the play, finding the different elements that will be threaded together in rehearsals. Scott taught us a hymn – Eternal Father, Strong to Savewhich we tried to sing in harmony; Ros worked on ways to speak Gosse’s sometimes rather purple prose – he has a tendency towards rich description which is sometimes beautiful, sometimes overbearing; Karen and Simon watched closely, scribbling away and every so often chucking in a wonderful observation. Jenna Watt has been working with us throughout the process and combines forensic note-taking with a great ability to remember details that Rob and I have forgotten in our rush onwards.

 

The next time we’ll all meet again is on the first day of rehearsals in four months’ time. Meantime, we’ll all have worked on other projects, but I know from experience that the work we did will be percolating away at the back of our minds ready to be drawn forward again.

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Bridging ideas

If you travel over the river Forth on either the road or rail bridge at the moment, you see an extraordinary sight: the almost complete new Forth road bridge. Watching a bridge being built is an amazing sight, it always makes me appreciate the astonishing feat of engineering that a bridge is. Too often, we travel over them, taking them for granted because they’re just there. But can you imagine the leap of faith that was necessary to build the first bridge? Maybe someone found a fallen tree over a stream and used it to get over. Maybe then, someone thought that they could move that fallen tree to a better place? But how do you get from that, to building stone bridges? And from there to building huge suspension bridges?

The development of bridges from fallen trees across streams to structures two miles long connecting islands is a beautiful example of a long term collaboration.  Over thousands of years, the gradual refinement of the idea continued, sometimes led by improvements in technology: the development of steel wire in the 19th century enabled spans and loads to increase hugely. Sometimes by vision: maybe someone asking the question ‘why shouldn’t we bridge that gap?’  Sometimes by necessity: ‘how much time could we save if we could go straight over there, rather than going round?’  This strikes me as a metaphor for artistry. Some leaps have arisen from technological developments – steel strings rather than gut, for example – others from a creative leap – someone deciding that rather than a narrator and chorus, a character could step forward and speak for his or herself;  or both - perspective required both the imagination to understand it was needed, and the technical understanding to codify it.

Cristo morto

 

I remember being shown a slide of the painting "Christo Morto" by Mantegna at school and being startled by how daring the foreshortening was and how modern it seemed, even though it was 500 years old.  But whatever the root of a development, and no matter how sudden or gradual a development is, it is always a collaboration between the past and the present. So just as we couldn’t have the new Forth bridge without someone putting a felled tree over a stream thousands of years, so we act as creative bridges between what has happened before and the potential for something else to happen in the future. How we interpret that is a matter of choice. Do we want to acknowledge what has gone before us? Or do we want to ignore it? Either is a choice, but we have to be aware of the choice. The worst thing is either to ignore the past without knowing it, or to assume that received assumptions are correct. When Marcel Duchamp did this:

L.H.O.O.Q

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was an apparently simple act of defacement, but there are several layers of meaning within the act – by defacing this particular image, he not only changes perceptions of what constitutes a work of art (Duchamp’s contention being that anything can be a work of art if an artist decrees it one), he defaces an iconic ideal of beauty.  But by using a cheap, poor quality postcard reproduction, he also draws attention to the degradation of the image that has already taken place, he questions whether we have unthinkingly accepted it as a great work of art without ever really looking at it.  He looks back into the past and forward into the future at the same time and knows he is doing it.

But are we just our own bridges, connecting past and future, or are we part of a whole system of bridges, rivers and streams?  Should we see ourselves as part of a network of connections and links – linking audiences to our work, to other people’s work, linking us to other artists and other artforms.  Are we part of a great tradition that progresses inexorably from one thing to another, or are we part of a net that stretches all around us? Is our job as artists to look for the tiny capillaries of connection as well as the thundering road bridges we can see from miles away?    

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Making 'Our Fathers'

When I was growing up, there was one thing that just about everyone I came into contact with already knew about me: that my dad was the local vicar. There is always a frisson of recognition whenever one clergy child meets another. This is because there are some things that are particular to being a clergy child: your weekends are always focused around your dad’s (or mum’s nowadays) work, people often assume you actually live in the church, people think you’re deeply religious as well, everyone knows who you are, and you exist in a strange world of genteel poverty because the clergy don’t get paid very much (I suppose on the basis that people don’t really go into it for the money).

A few years my dad asked me if I’d ever read a book called Father and Son by Edmund Gosse. When I said that I hadn’t, he replied - slightly cryptically, I felt – that I might find it ‘interesting’. I discovered that the book was about the relationship between Gosse and his preacher father and how Gosse junior gradually lost his faith in God. As my own lack of religious faith was a topic about which my dad and I never seemed to quite have a conversation, I assumed that he thought I might find some illumination in the book about our own relationship. After he’d gone home – my parents lived 400 miles away so we only saw each other a few times a year - I bought a copy and read it, waiting for the moment when I would think “Ah, that’s what he wanted me to see!”  I thoroughly enjoyed the book, but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was he’d wanted me to learn.

When he was next visiting, I told him that I’d read the book and he said, “Oh yes, I read that years ago – I can’t really remember anything about it.”

Which was a bit of an anti-climax.

But it planted a seed in my mind about adapting the book at some point, though I felt I needed someone else to work with me on it and didn’t know who that person was. A while later I saw Rob Drummond performing The Bullet Catch and, when he mentioned in the show that his father was a Church of Scotland minister, a light went on in my head. We talked about it and agreed to collaborate on it.

That was 4 years ago, and now we’re in the midst of creating Our Fathers, which will premiere this autumn. From the starting point of adapting the book, we’ve found ourselves making something that is as much about us and the strange political events of the last year or so as it is about Edmund Gosse and his father. The Gosses’ story is still at the heart of the play, but one of the central themes that has emerged is about how people talk to each other when they disagree strongly. Are there better ways than those currently modelled by ISIS or Donald Trump, for example?  Is it possible to do it respectfully, whilst still agreeing to disagree?

Also floating about in all this is the conversation I never properly had with my dad, and now can’t have because he died two years ago. What I did do, though, was record an interview with him about his relationship with his own father (who was a born-again evangelical Christian preacher), and this has been the setting off point for conversations that Rob and I are having with people who do and don’t believe in God. We’ve had some fascinating conversations, including with two Mormons who gamely agreed to be recorded talking to us about their beliefs after they stopped Rob in the street on his way to work with me on the project.

We’re now having a pause in the development process, because Rob and his wife are about to become parents for the first time. I know from personal experience how life-changing this is, so will be fascinated to see what difference this event will have on Rob’s approach to the show. Especially if he has a son.

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Our Fathers

“It is not usual, perhaps, that the narrative of a spiritual struggle should mingle merriment and humour with a discussion of the most solemn subjects.”   Edmund Gosse, preface to Father and SonFSsq

Our Fathers is a new play by award-winning playwright Rob Drummond and Nicholas Bone, artistic director of Magnetic North. It combines historical biography, autobiography, verbatim reporting and audience conversations in an exploration of the continuing effect of faith and belief on the way we live in the 21st century.

Rob and Nick are spending this week at Summerhall working on Our Fathers, joined by Jenna Watt.  Jenna is assistant director on the project, supported by a Federation of Scottish Theatre bursary.

Our Fathers is partly inspired by Father and Son, the poet and critic Edmund Gosse’s 1907 memoir of his upbringing as a member of a fundamentalist Christian sect in Victorian Britain. The book relates Gosse’s memories of his childhood and his relationship with his father - a renowned scientist with an absolute belief in Creationism who fiercely opposed Darwin. 

Rob and Nicholas are both atheist sons of clergymen and have relatives who believe in the literal truth of the bible.  The project will use this connection and the book as a setting off point for an exploration of faith in the 21st century, focusing particularly on inter-generational differences. 

As part of the development process, we will interview people who have experienced inter-generational conflict over faith – both those with no faith and those with profound feelings of faith.  Do get in touch if you’d like to talk to us.

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J. Sharp Taking A Walk
07 September 2014
Very much enjoyed your show at the Brunton Theatre last night and the silent walk to start was an excellent addition, creating the perfect atmosphere....